Dammit

To: You
From: Guess
Date: Duh
Subject: [Insert 30 seconds of thinking up a vapid subject line.]

Ah, yes. Or no, I mean. I guess I tried to cop-out of my blog entry today. Lindsey caught me (in the comment box). Maybe I'm the only one that thinks a story about irrepressible bowel movements equals hilarity. I'm sorry. I digress.

I just ran into a person from high school in the UCA parking lot. When people I knew fairly well see me, it's not just like, "Hey ... er ... dude!" I got out of my Jeep, and all I hear is, "SPENCER CAMPBELL!" When I hear that, it's either one of two things: 1) A long-lost fried; or 2) Someone that's been waiting to catch me by myself to kick my ass. Luckily, it was a girl's voice I heard today. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw who it was.

I'd known this girl since junior high. I wasn't attracted to her at all then because, frankly, I thought she tried too hard to be popular — a total turn-off. She was just one of those girls that I thought was meant to be cool, but not extremely popular. She's beautiful, with smarts to match, and she hung out with cool people who didn't give a fuck. Yet, she acted like she did, and sometimes alienated herself from some of her own best friends.

Anyway, I was genuinely pleased that I saw her today. I wanted to tell her that I didn't have a girlfriend. She doesn't have a boyfriend. I wanted to get her number. I'm pretty sure she'd have given it to me. But I pussed out, and, anyway, my girlfriend and I are getting along — right now, at least.

For every one of those awkward moments when you see someone you really didn't care for that much, there's that one person you are extremely glad to have run into. Maybe it's just me.

God, I sound like a fuckin' pussy. I'm gonna kick myself in the balls real quick until I throw up, then call a random person and cuss them out. Yeah, that'll get that testosterone running again.

Bitch.