I met Rick Santorum in the summer of 2006 in Pennsylvania at the Republican Clam Bake. There was so much rare pork and every kind of rare beef and fried food you could imagine in your wildest dreams for a glutton. I was partially wasted on all the beer they had it in cups all over the place, even though a minor they didn't know or care. For all they knew I was drinking punch, all the cups looked the same. It was also 100 degrees outside. After eating so much of the delicious undercooked pig I had to take a huge shit so I went into an outhouse. When I got out there was Santorum ten feet away drinking something (not beer we can be sure he doesn't smoke/drink) so I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, senator?" And he replied, "Um, yes?" I shook his hand. He attempted to inconspicuously wave his hand over his nose because I just had shit and smelled something awful. But I knew what he was doing. I'll bet he was wondering "Who's this smelly fat kid?". So I posed next to him for a picture that my brother took. He looked like a stick figure next to me. But not w/o that nervous, uncomfortable looking smile on his face.