What’s up, bitches? Have I missed anything? Bet you hoped thought I wasn’t ever coming back, didn’t ya? Ever get tired of being WRONG?

Actually, I’m ashamed to admit how close you were to being right. My own personal Summer Of George has been quite the wild ride, and I’m almost as sad that it’s come to an end as I am stoked about the return of Saints football.

I’m not gonna lie though, it was touch and go there for a while. Once you’ve breathed the crisp air of Pete Finney’s world, it’s hard to come back. You don’t even have to wear a watch! It’s all just "whatever, whenever." It just doesn’t get much more bitchin’ than that. It’s paradise, I tells ya. (un)Fortunately for you though, I just can’t get over how damn sexy I look with the blogging top hat and monocle on. And while I’ve got to tip the aforementioned top hat in the general direction of the guys over at the T-P for continuing to churn out the good stuff all offseason as never before, unfortunately their coverage continues to be woefully lacking in gratuitous profanity and gradeschool humor. Glad to know I still have a niche. 

So what have I been up to for the last several months? Do you really give a shit? Of course you don’t. Fortunately for me, I don’t care. Let’s see… well…

• Got totally fucked out of my life’s savings by a certain dumbass long snapper named Chad.
• Went with my boy Poochie to this INSANE pool party at a Vegas club, got totally wasted dehydrated and ended up in the hospital.
• Was thiiiiis close to signing with the Vikings, but golly gee shucks, I tell ya this ole country boy just didn’t quite feel quite right about it I tell ya what. By golly I tell ya, I just don’t get into all the media circus and constant attention and all that rigamarole. Don’t like it one bit, no sir. Bought myself some brand new Wranglers instead, gonna go hang out on the front porch with my ole hound dog.
• Gave Kim herpes, then told her to fuck right off. High five!
• Took a kickass tour of Gitmo. Pretty sure they weren’t lying when they told me it was all-access. Saw a bunch of enemy combatants playing Madden 09 and feasting on this HUGE spread of chips, salsa and human rights. It was awesome, I didn’t want to leave. And people think the Hanoi Hilton was luxurious. Pfft. We totally waterboarded this one dude though who kept pitching it to Reggie instead of giving it to Pierre. Owned.
• Dived headlong into the Twitter craze. Cleared out my schedule for a whole day and added like 50 people to my little list there of people who I’m totally interested in. Somewhere around noon, I found myself saying "Fuck this!" and deleted them all.
• Penned a MMQB piece while Peter King was on vacation. Assholes never published it. I can’t imagine why.
• Apparently killed Bea Arthur and Dom Deluise.
• Made damn sure that Barry Freed knew in no uncertain terms that he better stay underground for good this time.

Quite the rewarding summer, if I do say so myself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ben Dogra has been waiting for me to fax over Malcolm’s contract for like WEEKS. Oops. My fault. Hey, what can I tell you? I got back and there were 20+ episodes of Good Eats and a whole season of True Blood on my DVR. You telling me you’d prioritize differently? That’s what I thought.

Actual Saints-themed content coming soon. I promise. For real this time.

Meantime, how you doin’?