Weekend Open Bar: The Fetish is the Fashion is the Fetish

the fetish is the fashion

Yesterday, I finished the last day of the summer class that I teach at UMass Boston. I am celebrating as only I, CaffDouche, can. Which is to say I’m currently eating Chez-Its, sipping directly from a 2 Liter of Pepsi Max, and playing Rise of the Tomb Raider after a long, under-caffeinated day. It’s a gratifying sensation to know that I’m done lesson planning (but not done working, this prole sallies forth like most others) for the summer. Six-weeks of being able to just beat that meat and game that game and read that comic without having to withdraw into pedagogical tomfoolery. But it’s also a bit melancholic, as six-weeks starts off sounding wonderful and slowly metamorphosizes into feeling interminable. These days, it feels culturally anathema to say you like your job. I do, though. Guilty. It’s rewarding, challenging, stimulating, and as dynamic as it gets.

I must not cop to that, though.

I’ll be ousted.

From my Millennial Generation, where self-loathing memes, anxiety, and a general pall seem to engulf the various news-feeds anyone internet-addicted and my age frequent.

Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair. The Earth is melting, when it’s not busy devolving into a rotting garbage heap. The United States’ election is being decided between a Crook and a Despot. We’re still not on Mars, we’re still fighting over oil and Sky People. So. Yeah. Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair.

But it’s exhausting man! And I won’t stand for it. Not today! Today, being the first day of my six-week break from wearing pants (I’ll be wearing shorts, but fuck pants until September 6). Not today! Being Saturday, the first day of my glorious weekend. Not today! Why, instead of leaning into the perpetual pall of misery and malaise, we could all embrace the glory of Weekend Open Bar!

Oh, you know.

Weekend Open Bar!

The weekly wank-fest everyone is invited to! The weekly want-fest where everyone comes and hangs out across the temporary two-day truce between Flesh-Bag and Overlords. The weekly want-fest where we share general thoughts, general ideas of what we’re going to be eating, general desires surrounding what we want to play, general lusts we have for a particular micro-niche fetish site fixated on balloons, babyoil, forty-five year old Community College washouts, and yards and yards of watering hose. Anything and everything goes here, baby! So long as it’s dedicated to the general aim of this column, this website, this idea that is Omega-Level: death to the pall, if but for a moment.

What are you up to this weekend?