If You Build It, They Will Come.

Saturday, March 02, 2002

I really don't mean to sound insensitive, and I feel like a real jerk right now. See, I got home and there was a message on my machine. It was Michelle. She just said hey really quick. In fact it was a short message. "Hey Joe, it's Michelle. Gimme a call when you get home. Bye." I played this message over and over. She sounded almost a little sad. I wondered what was bugging her. I hope it wasn't something I did. She sounded kind of sad that I wasn't here or something. It's not my fault though, I had to help a friend move out of his apartment and into another one. She could've called my cell, I had it on me. She did say to call her when I got home, but it was almost midnight by then, and I was concerned that it might be too late. So I looked for her number, and I couldn't find it. I looked on my little database of phone numbers, and her number wasn't on it. And that's when the thought came to me.... who the hell is Michelle? I don't know anyone named Michelle. I mean I know a Michelle that dumped me in Jr High, but we haven't talked for about nine years, and I don't have her number. I seriously doubt she has mine. I know a Michelle from Ohio, but that really didn't sound like her. And she called me Joe, not Freak or whatever. She hasn't called me in years either. So, mystery Michelle, I'm sorry I didn't call you back, but for some reason or another I cannot recall who you are. That's terrible. I bet I'm just tired and tomorrow morning I'll remember, because you seem to know me, and you seem to know me well enough that I'd have your phone number. But boy, do I suck I guess. *69 ain't helping. Crap. Sorry Michelle.


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