Monday Morning Commute: It’s Not A Tumor It’s A Sad Erection

What’s up, you slime. Where’s Rendar Frankenstein, you ask? Dead! Well. Dead set on having a good time on the left coast of the Empire. That’s right. You’re left with me, Caff-Pow. Play it cool and I’ll buy you pizza. Just don’t tell Rendar, okay? He hits me. I’m going to let you in on a secret. Frankenstein is Palpatine to my Vader. While I may seem to rule the roost here, it’s only at his blessing. He works the curtains and trots me out every once in a while. So yeah. Keep your hands off the inside, eat your fucking pizza, and we will all get through this edition of Monday Morning Commute ┬átogether. Or it’ll end in tears and blood and I’ll have to tell Rendar you slipped on the stairs on the way out of the car.

Anyways, this is the aforementioned MMC: the column where we list the things we’re enjoying and anticipating in order to get through this slog-fest-shit-hole that is our empty lives.

Watching: Cowboy Bebop
I couldn’t sleep last Saturday night. On top of that, the local hockey team lost. This meant I had to stay the fuck away from the Athletic-Based Mind Control stations, they were harshing my mellow. Browsing through the infinity, I came across Cowboy Bebop on Adult Swim. Holy fuck! Pow! My adolescent came raging out of my ass and pooled up at my feet. Stretched its limbs, gained something resembling a humanoid form, and slapped me across the face. It gave me the finger and went for some Wendy’s, leaving me feeling nostalgic. I haven’t caught the series in years, but I have the DVDs. Somehow they’ve survived a decade and moving twice.

God bless this shit, god bless my childhood.

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Playing: Rayman: Origins
You’ll notice I’m not playing Fez. I can explain myself! Leave me alone. You see, I am the sort of chap that embodies the phrase “short fuse”, as my patience is thin. Not only is it thin, but it erodes quickly under anything resembling duress. Red faces and shaking fists. That’s how I deal with situations. I’m not sure the puzzles of Fez will do anything but condemn me to self-loathing. Fuck! I can’t figure this out. Fuck! Why am I getting so angry. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Maybe I’m wrong, I don’t know. In the meantime, before I crack and invariably buy Fez just to hate myself, I’ve been playing Rayman: Origins. Some old school platforming right here. I miss platformers. A lot. I wouldn’t say the game is shining definition of excellence, but in the desert you’ll sate yourself with anything. Ain’t too many platformers round these parts, and I’ll enjoy what I can.

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Doing: Final Project Proposal
In a perfect world, I’ll be getting my Master’s Degree this December. I know, right? Totally devaluing the concept for any worthy people who come along after me. The moment I receive it will be a nadir in the degree’s life. Suns will set on dying systems, imploding at the injustice of it all. Before I can pull that shit off, I need to blast through a summer course, and more importantly get my final project proposal accepted. What is it going to be on? Oh, simple!

I propose to do *high-falutin, high-falutin* which shows that despite *previously thought wankery* in actuality its more appropriately *blah blah blah*.

Watching [2]: Cabin In The Woods
Holy tits! I caught this movie over the weekend and my friends it is the jam. Enjoyed the fuck out of it, and like everyone else has already told you, I can’t go into even the first five minutes of the flick without ruining it for you. So I ain’t going to do that. Go see it.

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Eating: Wheat Thins
Gosh dangit, I’m on a hard Wheat Thins stretch lately. They can be filed under “delicious thingies responsible for Caff-Pow’s poor body image”, along with jelly beans, and pizza. I only need seven or eight handfuls an evening. The problem is that I have bear paws. As I crush them into my gullets my Yum Yum Meter fills up, but so does my Excessive Calories Meter. What can you do? I’m in a rotting meat sac, a slave to the temptations of the flesh. I jerk off compulsively and eat too much. I will still hold the door for ladies and save kittens from burning buildings. Yeah, that’s right. Heroic shit. Chivalrous shit.

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What are you doing this week? Let’s swap war stories about the objects we’ve used to penetrate time, space, and orifices with.