Monday Morning Commute: Spring Sprang Sprung

Hello friends! Bad news. I lied, last week. I lied to your face, while sipping Diet Dew through a Twizzler. That’s how much I didn’t respect you. I said that Rendar would be back today, to guide us through Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the savory and scintillating things that are helping us get through the work week. Arts, farts, foods, and fascinations. But Rendar ain’t  back. Not yet. You’re stuck with me, Caff-Pow. Not even a healthy one, neither. I got phlegm-lungs like you wouldn’t believe. Whatever! We’re all just going to have to make due!

This is what’s on my mind this week.

Sex Criminals fucking rocks. Rat Queens fucking rocks. Zero fucking rocks. The Auteur fucking rocks.

Playoff hockey continues to be fucking insane. Watching it all.

Spring is here. It’s really nice. Blue skies and shit.

Listening to really shitty pop music and hating myself for it.

Beat Saints Row: The Third. This series has stolen my brain.

Orphan Black is the fucking berries. Watch this shit! It’s sci-fi pimp-hood pinnacle-time.

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So that’s me, friends! What are you up to?