It’s the Weekend Open Bar and goddamn am I happy to be spending it with you.

Long weeks seem to be relative, you know? Like cock size, intelligence, and the amount of pseudo-beef in our CancerBurgers™. So, despite the fact that I had Tuesday off (America, baby!) and today off (teaching schedule, baby!), I’m still heartened it’s the Weekend. I think most of my brain-gut-tumult this week was the result of Sam starting her new job. She was segueing from the former one, and acclimating herself to the new one.

A pervasive talent of anxiety is the ability to just straight fuckin’ OpticBlast that shit all over myriad elements of one’s own life. Money stressors? OpticBlast! Papers to grade? OpticBlast! Wife starting a new job? OpticBlast!

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Every Sunday night we die, and every Friday evening we are born again. Those of us lucky enough to be afforded weekends. Those of us lucky enough to have a job. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it can be a drag. Being a cog in Immortan Joe’s Extraction Machine. But sometimes it’s right to be like, “fuck, yo. I’m really glad to have a job that keeps the Aqua Cola running and the GasTown diesel powering the lights.” So with that quickly eroding gratitude, let’s open up the Weekend Open Bar.

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