I met Kevin Feige once.
It was at a Red Robin, y’know the restaurant with the greasy burgers and tight-lipped waitstaff who don’t care if y’bring a little bourbon to sneak into your milkshake as long as y’don’t tell the manager when y’catch `em bumpin’ lines in the bathroom?
Yeah, that’s right, my favorite restaurant.
Anyways, I was drooling onto my Cajun-fries and preparing to send my boyfriend a breakup text for the fifth time that month — yeah, we were havin’ some serious problems — when I looked up to see the baseball-hat-wearin’-Marvel-Man himself. He was in a booth, a big booth, y’know, with a woman too sexy to be his wife but too classy to be an escort.
I saw this as my chance, so I bolted from my booth, jus’ a little tiny one, y’know, and I practically hopped over the bottle-blonde and sat nearly on Kevin’s lap. I asked if he’d like to hear my pitch for an MCU movie and when he said “No,” well, I knew he was playin’ hard to get. So anyways I launched into my pitch which saw Ben Grimm and Reed Richards livin’ in a post-apocalyptic vision of the Future Foundation’s ruins and they just go about their day doin’ normal apocalypse stuff like foraging for canned goods and stayin’ out of the sun, but without doin’ any superheroic shit. Sue’s dead and Johnny’s dead and eventually we find out that Franklin’s hooked on smack, so some of the movie, maybe even a half-hour, is just Reed cradling his dopesick son while Ben weeps in the corner.
“Real art house shit! Cannes! Sundance! TIFF” I kept shoutin’!
Anyways, I got to meet Kevin Feige and I thought I heard him say that he’d visit me in jail but the officer dragging me away was real rude, y’know, and wouldn’t let me go back into the Red Robin to double-check.
So, I don’t know, maybe’s it’s gonna be launched with Phase 5, but I’m really excited for Doom’s Day.
I’d apologize for that, but something tells me you either aren’t offended by my nonsense or you never even check it out.
So what’re we doing now, you ask? Well, we’re diving into the Monday Morning Commute, even though it’s the afternoon!
I’ll show off some of the stuff I’m diggin’ into this week, and you hit up the comments section to do the same! It’s pop culture cross-pollination at its finest!
Nature simply does not give a fuck about us, my dudes. And if you can come to accept that, and work within it, it’s sort of freeing. What’s the Grand Plan for us? Nothing. And what does that mean? Fuck if I know. But, is it all hopeless? Fuck nah! At least not for me, an Absurdist Optimist. I’ll forge ahead. What does that mean?
Some days? It means eating an entire pizza, burping my dick into my underwear, and blogging for a couple hours.
Other days? It means mowing the lawn, patting my dog, and attempting to function like a normal human.
On this edition of OL Plays? We’re talking cuckold Coconut Water! (Pun?) We’re beating Katana Zero! We’re working our yoga breath! We’re celebrating a decade of OL We’re imploring friends to take their tarps off. A usual Saturday night.
Eat gator! Jerk off in the woods! Sweat too much, smell too awfully. Enjoy nature! Curse how it makes your balls smell. Am I talking about my trip to Denver last month? Or am I talking about Red Dead Redemption 2? Why not both, you son of a bitch! Yadda yadda, blah blah. How the fuck are you folks doing? Me? I’m doing a-okay. Sleep late, masturbate. Two of the pillars of my current summer vacation. Life ain’t bad.
I mean, if you can ignore the Arctic melting, and the rise of fascism. But, I have faith you can. Us rot-mouth flesh-bellies have tremendous power to deny forthcoming doom. I imagine that prowess stems from our incessant need to deny our own mortality, and works its way into shuttering our eyes at the very-not-good situation on this planet.
Anyways! Holy fuck, what’s up? Glaze your tits, gaze your eyes, and join me here at Monday Morning Commute.
The impending mortality? The horrors of modern culture?
Why, gloss them over with some distractions. And, share your particular distractions this week!
I’ll go first, fellow meat-bags.
I’m off until September, but am I really up to something these days? I don’t know the answer, but I also don’t know if it matters. You know? Been padding my time with some sleeping. Some gaming. Watching movies. Doing work! Oh yard work. Cutting down shrubs, mowing the lawn, weeding. And, if I’m being honest? I enjoy it. A mixture of zen-like moments, and tangible progress. Anyways, this here is a tardy edition of Monday Morning Commute. The wank-off session where we all share what we’re up to across a given week.
The wank-off? Figurative. But, go ahead and be literal with it if you want.
I ain’t judging.
Anyhoo! Anyways! I’ll go first.
Greetings, fellow travelers upon the Space-Ship Omega! It’s I, your depraved and debauched captain. Walking around, wearing only boxer briefs and a compromised smile! How are you? Me? I’m doing decent enough. Pausing for a moment, taking a good goddamn breath. It’s hard to believe July is almost over. But, it’s also not that hard. My word, what a fucking busy month. Went to a funeral, taught two classes, went to Denver, ate too much. However, I’m done! Done teaching, at least until September.
Thus, I’m stoked to spend this time reconnecting with you all. Here on the blog! Hopefully this weekend, on Twitch!
What are you up to this week? Playing anything? Watching anything? What measures are you taking to stay cool, as the Earth melts and hope evaporates? I wanna know!
I’ll go first.
What’s up, fuckers? It’s the Captain of the Space-Ship Omega. And word, I’m actually daring to interact with ya’ll folks. (I had a student tell me to yell “ya’ll folks” when the class acts up, I’m trying it out.)
First things first — no stream again this weekend. I know. I know! But, Bateman is currently in Madrid. Living that glorious life. So, yeah. Fuck us, right?
Second things second — I figured we could hang out here, instead? At Weekend Open Bar!
Man, I’ve been so fucking busy lately. I absolutely adore teaching two summer classes for the first time ever. That said? Monday through Thursday, I ain’t got any extra juice. Apologies! Apologies. The whole waking up early thing ain’t so bad, but I’m fucking tapped by the time I get to a computer in the evening.
You can fucking chart the exact moment when my week ends, as the Engines of Textual Diarrhea snap to life and I begin posting again.
Anyways, how the fuck are you folks this weekend? Anyways, what the fuck are you folks up to this weekend? Anyone seeing Crawl? I wanna. Anyone playing a particular game? I think I’m gonna finally begin my final assault on Red Dead Redemption 2.
Join me around the hearth. Pants down, smiles up.
I know that I haven’t written a Monday Morning Commute in a hot minute, and if truth be told, I don’t want to be writing one now! Hey, how’s that for a hello! But, I gotta admit. It’s just tough to get the juice needed to spin one. However what I know is this: for every week a skip, it becomes more difficult. So here I am, friends. Every once in a while I wax nostalgic here, a bit lachrymal. Despite closing in on a solid fucking decade of OL this August (I say goddamn!), there’s always a bit of me that misses the old days.
What can ya do, nothing gold can stuff. And, if gold can’t stay, imagine the lasting power of this shambling space-ship in the middle of Oblivion.
So even though these posts feel more like Captain’s Logs chronicling the end-run of blog entropy rather than a communal experience these days, I’m here! And this is what I’m digging and anticipating this week.
By God! We finally finish Dead Cells on stream! Talk some fucking zombie movies! Shit on Godzilla for a bit. Overall, full-on dickhead good time!