Most, if not all of you, are wondering where the hell I've been this past few months. I used to write with regularity for PIC, blogging about every two or three days chronicling my drunken escapades as an underage alcoholic making his way in the college world. Well, last April hit, and the dire straights my grades were in (due to my unsafe consumption of bourbon and ice) bid me pay attention to cramming for the all-important and dreaded finals that we all, at some, time must face.

After finals, I moved to the beach.

Now, at the beach, I didn't have internet access. Since I didn't have Wikipedia to distract me, I had to hit the bars with full force (I had just turned 21 and went to Vegas, which will deserve it's own entry later) and drink myself into interesting situations. Throughout the three months I spent down at North Carolina's Crystal Coast, I won a couple hundred dollars playing pool, spent all of it on hooch, worked at a surf shop, got laid, threw parties, and smoked more pot than I ever have in my life. This last point, I assure you, is saying something.

Well, now I'm back. I've moved out of the dorms that kicked me out freshman year and welcomed me back as a sophomore with open arms, and I've decided to forcibly re-integrate myself into the PIC community. The Case has gone through a lot of changes since I've been gone. The new 2.0 site is up, we're now holding contests for whatever reason, we've got a slew of new writers, and Nick Gaudio is finally dead.

I've been a writer for long enough that I feel like I'm an accomplished PIC'er, but my paper-thin body of work pales in comparison to the more devoted writers like DeGraaf and Nelson (when he decides to grace us with his presence), but I'm making a promise to our readers and to myself that I'm gonna be back in full force from here on out.

That's really all I wanted to say. Sure, it was short, and sure, it wasn't funny, but as usual, I don't care.

Also, go Pack tomorrow against DeGraaf's Bulls. They're probably gonna get beaten worse than a white Crips applicant, but I've gotta keep up a false sense of optimism fueled by tailgate beer and slutty Southern girls in the sweet, sticky heat of a North Carolina afternoon.

Hey, I'm back.