Well here we go again for another year at Brandeis! More parties where I am too afraid to talk to girls and more of the whole "meeting new people thing," which for us socially awkward people is pretty, well, awkward. But the most annoying part of coming back to school is everyone asking each other, "How was your summer?"In a high-pitched, cheerful, "Yay! We're back at school!" voice, everyone asks, "How was your summer? What did you dooooo? Ooooh really, well, that's interesting!"

And then, of course, it if isn't bad enough, every single time we have a break of any sort, the same questions pop up, "How was your breaaaak? Did you have fun?"

I am going to tell everyone who asks me this repetitive question the same answer: "My summer sucked! You never thought that I would say that, would you, jerk? And you know what? I could care less what you did during your summer. That's why I didn't ask you. Why don't you come up with a more creative question or find a new 'friend' to bother? Go away and never talk to me again!"

Surprised and startled, they will proceed to gossip about moody old Herschel and everyone will hate me, even the new freshmen girls.
Oh well. It's nothing new for me. I just tell it how it is. How do you gangsters call it? Oh yes, I don't front.

DEAD GRANDFATHER?

Over the summer, I missed Brandeis so much that I went to camp. And no ordinary camp, my friends. Nope, I went to Jewish camp. Something Jewish is nothing new for us Brandeis students. And I know some of you are saying, "Wait! There are Jews at Brandeis?!"

But over the summer, many funny experiences occurred and here are some of them:

Herschel: The counselors are my children, and you campers are my grandchildren.
(A Camper Raises His Hand)
Herschel: Yes?
Random Camper: My grandfather's dead.

I teach my campers good morals...
Herschel: This place is a _______?
Campers: HELLHOLE!
Herschel: Your counselor is a piece of _____?
Campers: CRAP!
Herschel: The director is a _____?
Campers: JERKFACE, who should pay Herschel more money.

KATIE, PLEASE LOVE ME

Right when my summer vacation began, I discovered that Katie Holmes, the young girl whom I saw turn into a woman before my very own eyes, had succumbed to the wiles of scientology.

The only television show that I ever watched with any regularity was "Dawson's Creek," as I watched Dawson and the gang duel it out in a real-life dramatization of America's high school days. It is so realistic! You can't imagine how many times that I too found myself with the hot girl in the back seat of my Corvette at the football game after I threw the winning touchdown pass.

But Katie Holmes, the woman who was supposed to complete me, had fallen for Tom Cruise.

Let's not kid ourselves ladies. Tom Cruise is not that much better looking than me. After all, I have beautiful blue eyes.

Katie, let me send you a quick message. I accept your apology for not answering any of my forty-two phone calls and for notifying the police about my behavior. But you need to come home, where you belong, with me, my dog Waldo, my mother Lauri, and a new religion called Judaism.

IT WORKED FOR OEDIPUS

"Hoishal! Every time I read one of your Justice articles, all you do is make me look like a crazy nut. Who do you think I am, your University President? I love you to death and this is what you do to me. Is this going to happen this year too?" You betcha.