To me, you look more like number two, if you know what I mean.

I was relating this story earlier today, and I share it with you, gentle reader, so that you might derive some amusement from it as well.

There was a girl I knew in the dorms in college, named Katie.  (Note: this is not to be confused with kick-ass Katy whom I also knew in the dorms.  Different person.)  This story is about Katie with an “-ie”.  I don’t remember her last name.

I knew Katie my second year in college. 1991-1992. I lost track of her after that year but I remember her very well because she is in a few pictures I have of a dorm Xmas party where I am wearing– I will admit this to you because I like you– purple muscle pants.

Anyway, that year, my dad gave me a book at Xmas called “How to Shit in the Woods”.  He found that amusing.

Sometime a few months later, I was walking around the University Union and ran into Katie. She was sitting in one of the marginally comfy maroon couch/chair situations that are undoubtedly still there (and undoubtedly not since cleaned). She happened to be reading that exact book– “How to Shit in the Woods.” It turned out that she was actually reading it for a class of some sort.  Being that it was a rather obscure book, I was surprised and said “hey, I have that book too!”

The point here is this:

Sixteen years later, I still think of this girl every single time I take a crap.

And I wonder how she’d feel if she knew.


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