The Making of
The Oulies…

Sarah Rose Butler and John Michael Draper met in San Francisco,
Long, Long Ago - in the Before Time.
At that point they were just Sarah Rose and John Michael, and yet to achieve the state of Oulies.

  • In a city where fortunes rise and fall with the tides of the Bay, where transplants seek to claim a home among its winding streets, there exists a rare and most precious breed—the true Local. And among them, none bore the title more naturally than Miss Sarah Rose Butler.

    Her lineage, steeped in the fog-drenched origins of San Francisco itself, stretched far beyond the memory of mere mortals. Born to the ever-charming and most esteemed Ken and Sherry Butler, Miss Butler did not spend her youth in the parlors of Nob Hill nor among the ballrooms of Pacific Heights. No, hers was an upbringing of far greater intrigue: Bayview Hunter’s Point.

    Raised beneath the whispering cypresses of Golden Gate Park she was shaped by the shadowed figures of the park’s most nocturnal dwellers—the Goths, who wove poetry into the fog and danced jerkily beneath the moon’s indifferent gaze. And once graduated from the clearing of cobwebs and stomping of spiders, let it be known that her master class was bestowed both by clowning academy, and the most revered of San Francisco’s ungovernable minds—the “Dee-Gens.”

    Thus Miss Butler did not simply live in San Francisco—she was the warp and weft of its very soul.

  • Not all who find themselves in San Francisco are born beneath its shrouded skies. Some must journey forth, driven by fate, folly, or the insatiable call of reinvention. Such was the case of one Mr. John Draper.

    Born to the formidable Robert and Isabella Draper in the rugged heart of Taos, New Mexico, young John emerged from a land of sunbaked mesas and whispered legends. But the call of the City by the Bay was strong, and so he embarked upon the great migration—borne across the vast and treacherous Southwestern desert upon the backs of coyote-driven sleds, as was the custom of his time,

    At last, he arrived at the gleaming gates of San Francisco, a city of impossible promise and even more impossible rents. Like so many before him, became a Nanny as he ventured into the shifting vaporous clouds known as “start ups.”

    With restless knees and an untamed spirit, he clawed at the microchip-encrusted battlements of the City, seeking entry, seeking adventure, seeking something. But as we well know San Francisco is a beast that does not surrender easily.

    Would it embrace him? Or would it spit him back into the desert from whence he came?

The Meeting

About one hour into meeting each other (no exaggeration) …


  • In San Francisco, there are those who merely perform—and then there are those who devour the stage. The latter distinction, of course, belonged to Miss Mean Girl Sarah Rose, a San Franciscan gutter snipe of the highest order.

    With a keen eye and sharper fangs, she prowled the city’s acting, theater, and modeling scene, a creature of talent and tenacity, ever poised for her next conquest. It was in this pursuit that she crossed paths with none other than Adam Lampert—John’s most trusted compatriot.

    She was not merely cast—she was chosen, and so became the star of a white rapper’s surgical exploration into the undead body of American culture and music.

    And so, with wings of darkness unfurled and fangs bared she plunged headlong into the sanguine depths of the project, a harbinger of chaos and revelation.

  • There are those who, armed with reckless ambition and an unshakable belief in their own genius, hurl themselves headlong into artistic pursuit. Mr. John Draper, as one might suspect, was guilty of such internal romance.

    With a camera in one hand and an expansive if not boundless sense of creative entitlement in the other, he clasped the sweaty, fate-sealed palm of his dearest childhood companion, Adam Lampert. Together, they set forth upon the grandest undertaking of all: that most exalted convergence of art, science, and divinity itself—the Rap Music Video.

    Little did John know that such an endeavor would not merely shape his artistic sensibilities but alter the very course of his existence. For in the throes of creative ecstasy, amidst flickering lights and dramatic angles, he found himself quite literally struck—concussed, in truth—by the chaotic wake of a most feral and ravenous sprite, a lovely fairy possessed of singular devotion to the pursuit of snacks.

San Francisco

  • Sarah Rose was warned, time and again, of Johns reckless nature, his base madness, his undeniable penchant for trouble. Surely, you see it, they implored. Surely, you must know.

    Undeterred by caution and deaf to reason, Miss Sarah Rose cast aside all warnings and did what only the boldest of souls dare—she chose him. With unwavering devotion, she flung wide the doors of her life, welcoming him into her world, into her family, into the very marrow of her existence.

    And together, hand in hand, they vanished into the night—not as aimless lovers, but as something far more fearsome. For theirs was no quiet romance, no fleeting dalliance of whispered affections.

  • It is a most curious thing, the manner in which love takes root. At times, it arrives as a gentle bloom, tended with care and restraint. But in the case of John, love was no delicate garden—it was a wild and creeping vine, unstoppable in its ascent, entangling all in its path.

    Besotted beyond reason, he did not merely court Miss Sarah Rose—he pursued her world with equal fervor. With honeyed words and an uncanny ease, he wooed Ken, charmed Sherry, and endeared himself to dear Kenny. One by one, her cherished friends became his own, drawn into his orbit with little hope of escape.

    Like an invasive species, he slithered into the quiet corners of their lives, embedding himself so deeply that, in time, no one could quite recall a life before him. His devotion to Miss Sarah Rose ran unchecked, unbridled by caution or common sense. With reckless abandon, he hurled himself into love, a man possessed—heedless of where such boundless passion might lead.

  • Their hearts and minds, once separate entities, melded into a singular, unstoppable force—a fearsome coupling that defied all social restraint. They finished each other’s sentences with unnerving precision, engaged in public displays of affection so brazen one wondered if shame had ever been imparted by society, and, most offensively of all, hoarded inside jokes in such great quantities that no outsider could hope to decipher their coded language.

    The sheer psychic weight of their union grew monstrous, pressing upon the fabric of reality itself. It reached a critical mass, collapsing in upon itself with the inevitability of a dying star.
    And from the wreckage of their unchecked devotion, a singularity was born - “The Oulies”

Los Angeles

  • Having entwined their fates in passion and peril, they set their sights upon a most reasonable and grounded domain—Los Angeles, that most sensible jewel of California. With unwavering resolve, first they braved the untamed wilds of Koreatown, a land of neon glow and midnight feasts, before finding solace in the gentle embrace of Mar Vista, where at last they could rest, roost, and call a place their own.

    There they reside in the company of their feline children, impossibly and undeniably, born from their own human bodies, a miracle that exceeds that of immaculate conception.

    And now, at long last, they stand upon the threshold of yet another grand adventure. With hearts full and spirits alight, they bid you welcome—to bear witness to their love, to revel in their joy, and to join them in a celebration most splendid, most sacred, and most worthy of the legends they have become.