#Weekend Open Bar

Weekend Open Bar: Live From The Post-Apocalyparadise!

I initially had a really dour headline and gif to kick off this weekend’s Open Bar. The title was “It’s Better If You Don’t”, which really was a phrase which didn’t mean anything to me. The gif was of an insomnia-riddled Jack from Fight Club blinking at the endless stuffing of the info-tube into his mind-gullet.

My wife’s been away for like fifteen days. My job is stressful and tenuous. The skies are gray and bleeding moisture. Just not feeling It today, you know?

But, hey, man. What the fuck, right? Why wallow?

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Weekend Open Bar: Make A Wish (God Isn’t Listening)

weekend open bar

Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.

Can minimize the amount of time I’m stuffed into these ever-tightening pants, and maximize the amount of time I’m working towards further corpulence. It’s a merry sequence, a happied romance. I hope, oh I hope to do it with you folks. Here at the Weekend Open Bar. The weekly weekend invitation, nay, the weekly weekend invocation of the citizens of Space-Ship Omega. To gather around the digi-hearth and spend their weekend together. Sharing what we’re eating, sharing what we’re drinking, sharing what we’re reading. Sharing anything and everything! Drunken tales of anal gapes around Slurpee dispensers. Sober tales of contemplating. Anything and everything.

Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.

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Weekend Open Bar: The Last Weekend In America

the last weekend in america

Last Friday evening my family and I gathered for a bit of delicious ass (and if you’re confused, ass is delicious) Mexican food to celebrate my birthday. As my brother left, he told us all to “enjoy the last two weekends in America” — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement. That leaves us, friends, on the precipice of the Last Weekend In America — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement.

In a country that seems to be unspooling (on both sides of the political spectrum, mind you, I choose no side in this fusillade of suck), what is there to do?

Why, spend some time with you folks at the Weekend Open Bar.

Gather round, folks. The Vampires at the Throat at here, have been here. But as they drink from us, let us drink together. There is Nowhere to go, so let’s go to Nowhere together.

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Weekend Open Bar: Rocket Fuel & Rockin’ Fools

snowden

It’s the Weekend! Open Bar! Fuck, I know I’m late. Last night was a birthday dinner with family, rolled immediately into five hours of wrestling with Bateman. Oh! Lucha Underground. Oh! Wrestle Kingdom 11. Truthfully? I squeezed in a couple hours of Final Fantasy XV between the former ending and the latter beginning. Oh! No matter, no matter.

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Weekend Open Bar: It’s Always Sunny On Space-Ship Omega

ayo-bitches

It’s the Weekend Open Bar.

Here on the Space-Ship Omega.

Round and round and round the Sun we go. Harboring ill memories, favorable moments, abject disproofs of karma, and transformative moments of kindness. In the grand scheme of things, we, the Sun, these burps and blips don’t matter one lick. In the grand scheme of things, these random scatterings of electrical impulses, of poor choices, of wise decisions, of moments of passion and anger, they’re all we fucking got.

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Weekend Open Bar: Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal(s)

Weekend Open bar: Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal(s)

Hey! Oh. Oh, hey! It’s Weekend Open Bar! Pray tell, are you being a dedicated consumer? Buying those you love their trinkets, both asked for and unasked? Are you wearied from long lines, or did you abstain from corporeal-shopping in lieu of the gilded pipes of the Amazonian forms of commerce? Hey — man. If the Titanic is going down (and oh, are sinking), we might as well raid the gift shop. Hey man — if the Titanic is going down, we might as well all congregate at the (open) bar!

That’s bleak, that’s burnt, that’s bluster. I’m actually quite content right now! It’s warm here in my cabin on the Space-Ship Omega. I don’t want nothing other than to spend the weekend with friends and loved ones. You folks, included!

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Weekend Open Bar: Cold Out There In Cosmoblivion (Warm In Here)

freefloating

It’s the Weekend Open Bar, man. Come, come join me. But for Space’s Sake, slam that hatch closed tight. It’s cold out there, in Cosmoblivion. Yes, yes indeed. Cold out there, but warm in here. At the Open Bar. Familiar fellows who frequent these grounds know the drill. They’re already perched atop their favorite stool, ready to rock.

For those not familiar, for those just embarking on the Space-Ship Omega, I’ll help you out. Throw you a Martian Ale, or prep-up the mind-gun with the finest of Jovian dust. Introduce you to the rest of the gang. Introduce you to what this here Open Bar is all about.

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Watch: Atari 2600 Emulator Running Inside ‘Minecraft’

I can’t even begin to understand how someone can get an Atari 2600 emulator running inside of Minecraft. But I fuck with it.

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Weekend Open Bar: You Can Still Find The Sun

amid-the-wreckage

It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby! This is the freakin’ Weekend Open Bar, baby! After a particularly strenuous week, I’m happy to report I’m currently supine. Type-type-typing away. Next to Mrs. Omega. Got a weekend of gaming, reading, watching, and sleeping on the docket. Can’t complain, can’t complain.

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Weekend Open Bar: It Was An Illusion. Even A Pleasant One For Some

weekend open bar - an illusion

The bar is open early, friends. It’s Thanksgiving Eve here on the eastern arm of the Empire. I’m blessed enough to have the rest of the week off. So why not let the Asgardian ale flow already? So why not let the Martian space spice be smoked already? I have no good reasons for why not to, I have no good explanations. All I know is that life is too short, too vicious for even the most blessed, to not seize upon moments of revelry with you and yours.

Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.

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