Oh come all ye faithful. How are your colons? How are your livers? Are your guts sated? Is your wallet mutilated? Did your loved one feel that you established your love for them adequately? I hope all of you are doing wonderful. I had a splendid weekend. I got a crap load of gifts, spent the entirety of Christmas evening on the toilet with gut-clenching diarrhea and then saw Sherlock Holmes on Saturday evening. Let’s do the math! Material possessions that make me warm + warm goop coming out of my ass + Robert Downey Jr. with his shirt off? Yeah dude, I had a fucking great weekend.
Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.
Watching / Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock Holmes had me at Robert Downey Jr. To say that I was unsure of whether or not I’d derive at least some modicum of enjoyment out of the movie would be a complete lie. Mr. Downey Jr. is witty and charming and apparently, according to this movie, absolutely fucking ripped and bad ass. It was a glossy, fun movie. I can’t really comment on how I felt about its allegiance or lack thereof to the source material, since I never read much of the Holmeslice. I’ll pretend I did, and nod my head.
Playing / Assassin’s Creed II
Aside from buying me a ticket to Opeth’s 20th anniversary show in New York City and vouching to pay for transportation and lodging, the illustrious Blonde Thunder snagged me Assassin’s Creed II. I haven’t played much of it, probably thirty minutes. This, compounded with the fact that I never played the first one, has me not really sure what to think of the game. I’ve dug running around the city and leaping from ledge to ledge. I’ve been aching to give it more of a shot, since you know, I haven’t even gotten assassin status and shit yet. But I’ve been busy masturbating to Robert Downey, and pooping. Excessively.
Reading / Pygmy, Chuck Palahniuk
Oh lord it has been eons since I read a new Chuck Palahniuk book. Snuff came out, what, two years ago? And I still haven’t read that. The last time Chuck and I danced was to the prosodic melody of Rant. A buttfucking hyper-reality, time smashing mindfuck. I actually think that when Pepsibones officially loses his mind, he’ll have scrawlings from Rant all over his cabin wall. I snagged Pygmy for Christmas from Mother Bones. The premise alone has me frothing to tackle the shiznit. A cell of terrorist adolescents come into the country posing as foreign exchange students? A bunch of masturbations about American xenophobia, and hilarious prose splintered in shattered in American English. I’m ready to rock.
What did you assholes do for Christmas, get for Christmas, and what do you plan on doing this week?