Monday Morning Commute: Ororo’s Forecast
Hulloh there, fellow crewmates of Spaceship OL! There seem to be more of you than ever, which is goddamn spectacular! C’mon out from behind those crates of surplus Atari 2600 games, there’s no need to hide! We’ve got plenty of Bantha fodder for everyone, and we’re just about to dive into the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!
What’s that, you ask?
Simply put, the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE is OL‘s attempt to vaccinate its patrons against the vile disease that is the workweek. So before you plunge headfirst into five days of 9-5 misery, check out the bits of entertainment I’ll be using to safeguard myself against ennui and spiritual ruin. Then, if you’re daring, you can hit up the comments and show off your own set of curative salves and topical creams.
It’s Internet show-and-tell at its very best.
Quit delayin’, let’s dance!
Proselytizin’ With/The Number of the Beast
One of my coworkers has just recently stumbled upon the realization that heavy metal is the one true religion. As a lifelong devotee to the cacophonies of Lucifer, I’m doing my best to usher this proselyte into the valley of darkness without scaring him off. The trick, I’ve found, is to present tunes that’re equally subversive and catchy.
Needless to say, The Number of the Beast was an obvious choice for unholy communion.
It was no longer than an hour after I put Iron Maiden’s masterpiece on his desk that my coworker came running to me. “Dude,” he exclaimed, “that might be the best album I’ve ever heard.” There was a winsome-yet-mischievous tone to his voice, reminding me of a child who’s just played with illegal fireworks for the first time. At that moment, I don’t think I could have been more proud.
And then he started reciting the opening of The Prisoner.
I have the day off from work tomorrow.
I’m going to try to make the most of this opportunity. For example, instead of waking up at 5:45AM, you’d better believe that my alarm isn’t even going to consider disturbing me until 9AM. Naturally, it also stands to reason that I can stay up a bit later tonite and actually enjoy myself, as opposed to most nites when staying up past bedtime just means I’ll be a bitter bastard the following day.
To fully revel in the fact that I’m not clockin’ in tomorrow, I’ve just poured myself a glass of bourbon. Yes, I might have established myself as an admirer of fine-ass beers, but I also have quite an affinity for America’s oak-aged corn-whiskeys. Tonite I happen to be sippin’ on Knob Creek, but I’m also a fan of Jim Beam and Maker’s Mark.
Any bourbon drinkers out there? If so, can you suggest any particular brands?
Valentine’s Day is a conspiracy between the chocolatiers, florists, and greeting card companies to create an annual shakedown of saps and romantics for every penny they have. Really, isn’t it silly to set aside a single day to express love, when we can do that every day? It’s hard to argue against the fact that February 14th has been exploited by our culture of consumerism.
But I’ll be goddamned if I don’t celebrate it.
I consider myself lucky as hell to have a fine woman who’s willing to put up with my insanity. Not only has she endured years of movie-based diatribes, emphatic rants about the evils of reality television, and countless ramblings about comics, but she’s actually done it all with a smile. Hell, she even entertains my comparison of our relationship to that of Han and Leia (which is hardly accurate, as I’m far from a roguish charmer and she’s most certainly doper than Carrie Fisher).
So that’s my week – heavy metal, liquor, and love.
What’re you doing this week?