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The Ramada Plaza Beach Resort in Fort Walton Beach, Florida and I go back a long ways. 


Somewhere around 1999 I think. 


For some reason I’d ended up in my ’86 Ford Ranger on a road trip to Shreveport, Louisiana. Because when you’re 19 years old and haven’t ever really driven any long distance by yourself, Shreveport Louisiana sounds like a far off distant and magical place. 


Until you get there. And then you’re all like ERMAHGERD DO NOT WANT.


I then realized I could drive a measly seven more hours and find myself in Florida. I’d never been to Florida. I’d heard there were beaches there. And an ocean. I figured I should probably go see that. And thanks to my parent’s credit card, I did just that. (Sorry, mom and dad.) It was a few days of walking on the beach and playing my Nintendo 64 that’d I’d brought with me in the hotel room, and thus began my torrid love affair with my adopted home state of Florida. 


So when my dear friend Amber Campbell with Beachside Ceremonies sent me Anne and Channing, I jumped at the chance to go again. And I’m stupidly glad I did. I adore this couple, and I loved their wedding. 


Anne and Channing, thanks for being sweet and wonderful people. I loved getting to spend the day with you guys. 





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I have a weird allergy. 



I’m allergic to jerks. 



I’m especially allergic to jerks that are overall assholes to other people. If, in fact, you are a venue, photographer, human being, etc, and it’s discovered that your secret identity is in fact a hellacious douchebag of an individual, word will spread rapidly, I’ll probably mock you mercilessly on social media, and if you’re a SUPER big fat jerkface, I’ll even write a blog about you. 


Once upon a time there was a really sweet couple that hired a photographer to take their photos. Their session was bland at best, and then, in one of those moments of extreme assholery, their photographer switched his prices and things got stupid expensive once their shoot was finished. And they couldn’t afford it, nor should they have to. 


But then, turns out they were friends of one of my bestest photographer friends ever. And that photographer friend told me what had happened. And so I then drove to Missouri and shot their session myself for a couple of beers and a tank of gas. 


Because you just ought not to be a jerkface to folks. 


Quote that. 


Elie and Jordan, you guys are amazing and wonderful and I’m glad we got to hang out. Thanks for the laughs. And the beers. 






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Where do I even start with this wedding?


First, I love the Silo Event Center. It’s a gorgeous place to shoot. 


Second, I love this couple. And the entire wedding party. I’m not going to go into graphic detail here, but we all bonded that day over a rather crazy series of events that resulted in the accidental discovery and subsequent violent death of a creature that would’ve eaten all of us if given the chance. The best part of that story is someone, somewhere, caught the entire encounter on video. If you’re one of my new clients, ask me about this story in person.


I’m totally saving the details for the tell all book, though. 


Third, my friend Bryan Bartlett came to hang out with me for this wedding. Aside from his fantastical photography, watching him dance is worth the price of admission. Add to that my favorite manly stud of a salsa-dancing DJ, Hugo with Lion’s Road, and getting to hang out with the fabulous Ashlee Bivins doing the makeup earlier in the day, and the near death experience was totally worth it. 


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I think I’m going to start implementing a rule that each engagement session starts off with drinks at McNellie’s. 


Not to imply that people need booze to handle hanging out with me for a couple of hours (probably, yes), but sitting and hanging out is a great chance to hear a couple’s love story. In this case, one that started in 6th grade. 


I know, right? Awwwwww. 


I’m fairly certain we all laughed through this session more than we were serious, and that’s ok. Turns out happy people look cool on camera. 





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