Hi folks, your friendly nightlife blogger here. You may remember me (not likely) from my witty news commentary in the aptly named "It's News to Me" copy desk blog. Well, I'm moving on and lowering my IQ points by writing about my crazy, legal exploits in this weird fantasy land known as State College.

I thought it would be an ironic twist to make this inaugural blog post, the first time it has been written by a 21-year-old since 2006, about me acting unabashedly like a freshman.

I don't know what it is, but the first weekend back from a long break makes me want nothing more than to reconnect with all my friends and get schwasty at yet another unremarkable apartment party. Perhaps it's me unconsciously trying to disconnect myself from the trappings of the real world by regressing into the most stereotypical of college experiences. Who knows.

It all started, like so many of my poor decisions do, at my friend's pad. His place is one of those residences that is never occupied solely by the people paying the rent -- there are always extra guests. So naturally that's where I went after a string of meetings yesterday and a short love affair with my couch.

Thing is, it went quite well for a while. I brought along a few of the only things left in my fridge, which included two Lion's Heads and a Yuengling. I'm known for toting along my own stash, so of course I couldn't disappoint. It started out innocently enough. I downed the Yuengling and ignored the "beer before liquor" rule by moving on to an all-time favorite of mine, the rum and diet. This, too, was relatively innocent, as I'm not really a lightweight.

However, it did lead me to talk louder, faster and more passionately about my former stint as copy chief. That's the problem with partying with your work friends -- you end up never really leaving the office.

Anyway, I believe a few ill-fated card games lead me down the treacherous path to becoming a "wasterson," as my roommate puts it. The clincher, though, (and I really should have known better) was playing mixed-drink pong. The last time I attempted this I ended up drinking until 8 a.m., rescuing a friend who accidentally walked to Nittany Beverage, tagging along to watch a trial and staying up for 36 hours straight. So the precedent was hard to beat.

Anyway, this game ended with a bit less insanity, as I somehow ended up back at my apartment and inviting my equally tipsy friend to sleep on my couch.

The best part of this experience was waking up to find my oven on at 500 degrees and the entirety of my food products strewn across my kitchen. My friend didn't do it and neither did I, adding further support to my maniacal-elves-live-in-my-building theory.

With a nagging headache to remind me of my foolishness, I write this blog after my first stressful day on the job. I'd like to point out that I don't necessarily make a habit of getting crunk, but I am quite the authority on the local bar scene and various insights into our tipsy little world of nightlife.

After all, you don't need alcohol to have fun, but it sure does make everything funnier.