We're breaking up, dear reader. And no, that doesn't mean we can still go out.
In the real world, I could fake a pregnancy to keep you around, to force you into commitment. Sadly, in the cutthroat, dog-eat-dog business of journalism, a gurgling tot does not lengthen the shelf lives of columnists.
But I'm a tough cookie. Sure I'll spend some time whoring my columns out to other newspapers. That's phase one. Then I'll just spend the time lying in a pool of snot and tears, living in denial, still trying to send in columns to the summer editor on Sunday nights. But lastly will come acceptance, when I will hold my head up high, start jogging and pick up a hobby.
I'll be fine.
It's y'all I'm worried about.
You lost your collective cherry on me, the first University columnist. You'll no longer have my Monday morning musings to guide you, to give you strength, to right the wrongs that plague your conscience and torture your soul.
But fear not. The well has not yet run dry.
The following is a primer of sorts, chock full of dos and don'ts and helpful tidbits to get you through the dark hours of my absence.
It is the result of several years of education at this top-notch institution. It is the culmination of five years immersed in University nonsense. It is what I have learned in the throes of my trials and tribulations. Here goes:
