Summer is always preceeded by anticipation, those godawful finals are over, and you have three good months to relax, work, or get your party on. In other words, its exactly like being at school, except without any papers to write.

Those three wonderful summer months are guaranteed to fly by like a Concord being flown by a drunken French pilot. There is of course, no good reason for them to do so, but there is also no good reason why Melanie Griffith was cast in a broadway show.

"So Brian, where are you going with this train of thought?"

Well, thank you for asking. What I was getting to was the fact that I'll be moving all of my shit back into the dorms this weekend. Thats right, summer is over. Not nearly over, or half-way over, its as done as Steve Guttenberg's acting career.

"Wow, thats pretty damned early to be moving back in..."

Well no shit. Actually, classes won't start for another week, but I had to be all responsible and apply for a job last year. That'll teach me to try and earn my money. It seems that I am being summoned back to school for "training." Largely this "training" will consist of such advice as, "don't sexually harass the women-folk" and what-not.

Hopefully there will be enough people already on campus to guarantee a decent sized party. This will allow me to maintain a level of drunkeness throughout the "training" that will ensure I remember none of it. The good consequence of this is that I won't be bothered by the tedium of the exercise, the bad consequence is that I will surely not remember the advice, "don't sexually harass the women-folk" and will subsequently be charged with that offence and be forced to settle out of court for an obscene sum of money.

Oh well. Its a price I'm willing to pay.


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