"Sit and enjoy your chew toy, Katharine."

As I'm sure you are all inescapably aware, I am the author of N to the Y to the C: Internship News Like Whoa, a Hampshire admissions summer blog that detailed, basically, how cool I am and what exactly it is Hampshire students do when released into the unsuspecting outside world. I say that you are all highly aware of this fact because, of course, my blog not only won the Pulitzer Prize for this, and, retroactively, every year dating back to 1917, but recently replaced the holy books of all major religions except Scientology, which is not so much a religion as the stuff you find between your toes, if it were animate and also crazy.

This is a new blog and a new era of awesomeness. With these writings, I shall induct you into the arcane and mystifying world that is Hampshire College, land of farm animals and people who smell like farm animals. I mean--um--bathe regularly. In perfume. And...myrhh. Which I actually think might be poisonous. Anyway, I'm currently a second-year studying mysterious and dangerous things somehow related to writing, performance art, and graphic novels, which means I will either go down in history as a creative genius or live in a box in your backyard.

With this blog, I hope to delve into the larger, more pressing questions of the universe facing our nation and our youth today. For instance, I've been deeply bothered by this particular cosmic query ever since I accidently flipped to Howard Stern the other night: you ever notice how, like, people who appear in porns regularly are always described as porn "stars?" Does that make sense to you? Like, you can be in a movie and not necessarily be a movie "star," but if you're in a porn, you're automatically a porn star. They need to come up with another term for the people who are in porns but aren't necessarily super-good at it, like "porn guy" or "porn person" or..."pornist."

Yes, good people of the internets, this sort of challenging intellectualism is what you can expect for millions of posts to come. I'll also give you regular updates on how much more exciting my life is than yours, like that time yesterday I ordered a sandwich. That was awesome. Speaking of awesome, I'm currently sitting in Hampshire's Bridge Cafe, which, because my cooking usually ends in fire and the screams of children, has become my new favorite place for food consumption. They have paninis, pizza, various pastries, and beef jerky, so you're pretty much covered as far as your major food groups. It's cheap and open until 11 pm, plus it looks out over the gym so you can make fun of the people being athletic while you ear Rice Kripsie treats. I'm waiting for them to open for dinner because all I've had to eat today is Cap'n Crunch and the guy is not easy on one's digestive system. Which, for the record, I mean in a cannibalistic and not dirty way, because this is a G-rated blog. Well, if "G" means "wildly inappropriate for anyone with a sense of decency," which I'm pretty sure it does. Anyway, as much as I love you, anonymous reader/possible stalker/Mom, I love melted cheese on sourdough more. Stay tuned, though, because I'm sure to report back on that grilled cheese, and it is certain to BLOW. YOUR. MIND. ROCK.