Give Me Slippers And A Pipe, And I'm Your Grandpa.

What’s the best way to come back after a four month absence? Pretend that you were never gone and hope that nobody noticed.

Though I’m pretty sure I just blew that plan with the opening line, alone.

But anyway, here’s the thing: I’m back, and it’s summer, which means that in-between eating Fla-Vor-Ices, watching movie threequels, and [insert joke about global warming here], I’m holed up in my room, [insert joke about Paris Hilton’s house arrest here], and kicking myself for not using these vacant months to write a short story a day (and a three-volume novel each weekend). Because my entire goal for the summer was to prove myself more productive than the Industrial Revolution, but so far I’ve been about as productive as The Wrens.

I guess it’s just hard to break the summer habit of using all of my free time to put off doing anything that matters. Which is just my lofty way of saying: I’ve started playing video games, again. But before you start assuming that I’ve completely reverted back to my 14 year-old self (minus the braces and Will Smith CDs), I’ll have you know that the game I can’t put down isn’t Zelda: Twilight Princess or Guitar Hero II. No, I’ve spent the past few weeks hooked on the Nintendo DS’s New York Times Crosswords.

As is the case with most addictions, I’m not even sure I’m enjoying myself. Sure, it starts out fun, as I identify “50 across: Loaded” as “RICH,” interpret “1 down: Have some pull” as “ATTRACT,” and impress myself as “52 across: Possibly” becomes “I’LL THINK ABOUT IT.” But the timer on this particular puzzle has just ticked past the three hour mark, and now all I do hate myself for not being able to identify 35 down’s “Italian violinist Giuseppe” or 2 down’s “1960’s-90’s Indonesian president.” If the first thirty clues are the high, than the remaining puzzle is the period when I wake up in an alley and realize that I’ve spent all my money on eight-balls, while the rest of the band has not only started a side-project without me, but left me with the band dog, even though we all agreed we’d take care of him together.

Which brings us to the part where you come in and save me. While I don’t expect you to know 35 or 2 down (which, uh, is how highly I estimate my friends?), I’m praying that you can help me get there. So it's time to prove you're smarter than me, kids! Here goes:

22 across: Some computer messages.

_ L E _ T S

29 across: Large-minded.

T _ L _ _ _ N K

34 across: The right stuff.

_ _ H _ _ _

48 across: Dries, as hay.

_ _ D _

For real, leave it in the comments (you don't have to sign up or anything) or reach me any other way if you've got anything. There’s really only one rule: no looking it up on the internet, because, I mean, I could do that if I wanted to. On the other hand, if you, say, own a book about how hay dries then, by all means, go to town and take me with you.

And, with that, I’m officially back. Stay tuned tomorrow for more goings-on.

Background noise: The Beatles “With A Little Help From My Friends.” Make me proud, guys!