The Intertubes are for Happy Wishes!

Matthew Campbell turns 30 today. It's a good day.



I met Matt in the late summer of 1996, when I was a mess and he was the reigning drum major in a major metropolitan high school. You should see the pictures - plumes and shoulder pads and everything. We were both in band camp at the University of Nebraska at Kearney, he a trombone, me a sousaphone. I saw him reading either Clive Barker or Stephen King (I can't remember which) during lunch and we started talking about The Green Mile, King's serial that he was still releasing, piece by piece, at the time.



We struck up a friendship that's continued longer than any I think I've ever had. He's seen me through bad hook ups, ignorance of female physiology, 40 + on my loft in my first dorm room, bisexual women, black hair, fundamentalists (he's got a great story about marking his calendar by the fights I had with my girlfriend), moving, living in a church, Grant in general, the happy dance, the wall of beautiful women, my lies, choosing a song from a Michael Bay movie for my wedding and more late nights, miles and confessions than one friend deserves from another.



Looking back, as blogging can often force you to do, Matt has proven himself over and over as nothing more than a decent guy - a gentleman, pop scholar, writer and kicker of much ass in Halo. He's the kind of friend every guy should have, one you can unload on or do nothing but watch "Mythbusters" for hours on end. He's the guy who knows enough to embarrass me in any situation (and who's brother nearly cost me a long-term relationship, though I think he's pretty cool) and a guy who I could embarrass at any point. And I have and only regretted it once or twice.



Cheers, brother. Here's to 30 more years of the Brain Bug Boogie you call an existence. And, here's that picture you made me take last year at B-Fest of the cute reporters ass.



OK, that was my idea, too.



Can't wait for Saturday.