Summer is almost over. Every time I say that aloud someone gets mad at me. Blame the Earth’s movement, I’m just a messenger. Like everyone else I am looking back at the season trying to figure out what the hell I spent my time doing because I definitely didn’t do half the things I planned to.

I met and hung out with a bunch of different people who will never become my friends. Sorry John, that party where we got handcuffed together was a one-off thing. I probably won’t be calling you after class. I know I said I would, but that’s because we were handcuffed to each other. And because you told me you’re afraid to be alone because the voices tell you to hurt yourself. Then you started to cry. You probably don’t remember this though; you were pretty wasted at the time.

I did the Main Street bar crawl until I was too drunk to remember that the BG bar scene is exactly the same whether you’re in Beckett’s or Brewster’s. Either way you still end up sitting next to a rabid ex-con alcoholic townie who wants to pour liquor down your throat. I thought I escaped to another bar when I realized I was still at Nate ‘ Wally’s, they just have a new porch up.

I listened to many wannabe singer/songwriters play bad guitar and talk about how they’re going to change an over-commercialized industry. And by “listened” I mean smiled and nodded in all the right places while wishing I had a Bentley for every no-talent hick who thought he was going to revolutionize the industry. I was being harsh though, it’s not like they were any worse than the crap that they are playing (over and over and over and over) on the radio. I listened to the country music station for four hours at work and my ears started bleeding.

I went to the quarry and out on a boat, surrounded myself with water in order to get properly dehydrated.

I swapped sweat with a cross-section of American humanity at Cedar Point.

I thought it would be fun to do a shot every time a starlet like Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan got arrested and ended up with liver cirrhosis.

I complained about how bored I was.

I sat around with other people and complained about how bored we were.

I did not write a fantastic novel, stop global warming or get the Israelis and Palestinians to get along.

I was going to go see the new Simpsons movie the other week, but instead figured I’d use the money towards a Wii and then I found out that the new Harry Potter book was going to be available and I thought maybe I should use that money towards a sleeping bag so I could spend the night at the store waiting in line to be one of the first to buy the book, and speed read it in 24 hours in order to talk about it with other nerds on the Internet. Then I realized that if I hurried home I could catch “America’s Got Talent” and that’s not even mentioning the tivo’d episodes of “Idol” that I still wish to watch and the research I wanted to do on the iPhone and then I totally punched myself in the face and did none of those things because that’s how I roll.

What was this column about again?