So long, winter quarter. And bring your abysmal weather and shitty class schedule with you. Hello, spring quarter, home of copious booze consumption, no worries, no cry, and intramural softball playing.

Friday’s forecast: The only worry the ‘human has, is whether or not Storke Field will be cleared of enough tractors for the ‘human to hit eight drunken home-runs a game. I plead the fifth!