#January2019

Weekend Open Bar: Goodbye & Goodnight To Thirty-Five!

weekend open bar goodbye and goodnight

How’s it going, friends? Me? I’m about to put a cap on the wonderful age of thirty-five. How was the year? Some good. Some bad. Another year of sucking wind, and another year of having my health. Thus, it’s hard not to feel grateful as I hurdle into the back-end of my thirties tomorrow.

I’m in the best shape of my life. Mentally, physically, and as a teacher. Yet, oh does Entropy ever whisper in my ear. Quietly passing along the irrefutable axiom, “all of this is borrowed.”  Eh, what can you do, you know? Spend the time with friends and family, purpose and appreciation.

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Weekend Open Bar: We’re Birds of War

weekend open bar were birds of war

Hey! Jesus Fuck, did we make it? To the weekend? By god, we did! And, if you’re lucky enough to have it the weekend off like me, it’s time to fucking celebrate. Let’s celebrate together, right here! At the Weekend Open Bar! It’s the weekly way station here on the Space-Station Omega! Where we all gather, sharing what we’re up to on a given weekend!

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Weekend Open Bar: they’re not broken, they’re just flickering

weekend open bar not broken just flickering

And a pleasant Weekend Open Bar to you all, as well! How’s it going, anyways? Hope you’re as lucky as me, to have the next couple of days to convalesce. And if you don’t? May you find the strength to punch the fucking weekend work day squarely in the throat! Indeed, indeed! Maybe you find the strength to axe-kick its compromised organs, and drink from its futility! Fuck, fuck. I was trying to come in here floaty, relaxed from yoga. That’s a thing I’m doing now, I guess.

Yoga.

Going to my wife’s class on Friday evenings.

I’m as basic and as privileged as they come, but, what do you want from me? I hope some sort of meta, tactic acknowledgement of this can salve my weeping wound which has burst open from leaning into Generica.

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Weekend Open Bar: If This Isn’t Nice, What Is?

when you wish upon a collapsing star

Hello, friends! It’s The Weekend Open Bar! Come hang out!

I’m feeling good over here. The weather has finally turned here on the Eastern seaboard of the Empire. My semester has finally ended. And, I’ve gotten consecutive nights of good sleep. All of this is to say is that I’m actually sticking my head out of the Depressive Cocoon I build around myself ever so often, and smiling!

By god, smiling.

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Weekend Open Bar: Go Ahead and Smile

weekend open bar go ahead and smile

It’s the weekend, friends. The fucking weekend, friends! Man, I don’t know how a shortened week felt so fucking long, but here I am. Basking in the freedom of two days of adolescent debauchery with a grown-up bank account. And if you’re reading this, you’re here too! By chance or by intention, you’re fucking here too! At the Weekend Open Bar! So now that I got you, so now that you’re here, let’s hang out!

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Weekend Open Bar: Long Live The King

weekend open bar long live the king

Welcome to the Open Bar, you fucks. The wank-off where we, the gilded turds of the Space-Ship Omega, share what we’re up to during the weekend. I must level with you, seeing Black Panther is at the core of my entire existence the next couple of days. Seeing it tonight, Friday, with comrades. Seeing it Sunday night with my male progenitor. And in the middle? I imagine gushing and flushing all my savory glands discussing it. Here, on OL. Saturday night, on Twitch.

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Weekend Open Bar: I Eat Stickers All The Time, Dude!

weekend open bar i eat stickers all the time

Friends! Friends. I’m at a level of fatigue that I do not usually reach. Oh, the ethers from beyond beckon me towards slumber. Like not eternal slumber, don’t get me wrong. More like, oh, I don’t know. Eating six Pop Tarts, drowning my esophagus in ice cream, and drifting off. Drifting off where? Ideally to the Astral Plane for a good twelve or so hours. Just ripping ass, snoring, and healing my weakened mind-shafts.

The good news?

The good news is that I am of that privileged sort that has the weekends off.

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Monday Morning Commute: a canopy of lights and leeches

a canopy of lights and leeches

It seems that Monday Morning Commute dropping on Tuesdays is going to be status quo for this semester’s installments. For that, I apologize. For that, I fall upon a rusty sword forged from old Diet Dew cans and crunchy socks filled with old spillings of my proto-children.  If you’re wondering how that’s any different than when I fall upon my futon to do some nightly reading, I can only say this. Touché.

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Weekend Open Bar: Informal Gluttony

weekend open bar informal gluttony

It’s the fucking weekend, baby!

Not a minute too soon, not a moment too early. Caught myself some Blade Runner 2049 last night (it’s fucking amazing), and it was worth it! But goddamn, did I ever mentally and physically pay the Iron Price for it. No sleep, very little sleep, what sleep was had was shoddily attained that.

But!

It’s the fucking weekend, baby!

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Weekend Open Bar: Electric Paradise

weekend open bar electric paradise

Clap your hands, say Weekend Open Bar!

Clap with me, rhythmically at first! Ignore, ignore your eyes rolling into the back of your head!

Clap your hands, say Weekend Open Bar!

Clap with me, now with a bit of horror, a pinch of fear! Ignore, ignore your mind being severed from your body!

For! My friends! To the Omniverse!

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