I don’t understand Oscar season.

As an anxiety-riddled, hyperventilating-mess, the glands in my brain-pipes often don’t work well enough for me to understand much. But I’m sure, even after a fresh dump, a jettisoned load, and my favorite strain of THC, I still wouldn’t understand Awards season.

I get watching a bunch of people sucking one another off. Covering each other in fluids and fantasy, moaning and churning against one another, hoping for the big finish to end up in their hands.

But, I still don’t understand Oscar season.

Or, maybe it’s that I understand Oscar season. And I hate it.

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…and a fucking hearty salutation to everyone! As I predicted last week, it seems that Tuesday Evenings are the new Monday Morning this semester. I’m going to level with you folks, I’m fucking tired these days. My malignant malaise is equal parts Being In The Teeth of the Semester, Chemical Imbalance, and an Ever Increasing Lack of Sunlight.

Why, just mustering up this column begs a good amount out of me.

You know, after a ten hour work day.

You know, after going to the gym.

You know, after unpacking my bags.

You know, after walking the dog.

So on, and so forth.

But, I’m here. Hopefully, you are too. This is Monday Morning Commute. On a Tuesday Evening. Within these walls, I’m going to tell you what’s getting me through the week.

What I’m watching.

What I’m playing.

Et cetera.

I hope you’ll join me in the comments section with your own happenings.

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