#Weekend Open Bar
By god, we fucking made it! 2021, motherfuckers! The new year has arrived not a moment too soon, and I’m glad to karate chop the neck of the previous 365 days. I know there’s the fair critique that time is arbitrary, a new calendar don’t mean shit, and nothing magically changes. That said, it still counts for something. Our little human meat-computers process reality through the experiencing of touchstone moments. Holidays, birthdays, and word, the new year. Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger. Science shows that shit.
Which means while the calendar flipping may not change anything, the start of the new year is a solid-as-fuck totem we can cling onto as we eye happier days in the upcoming months. So, fuck yeah, arbitrary or not, I’m stoked to finally be rid of the previous shit-ass year.
Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!
To each and every one of you motherfuckers. Man, what a fucking year it’s been. I mean, unconventional to say the least. No? Unconventional! To say the fucking least. In a year of unconventional existence, why would the holidays be any different? They wouldn’t! Which is why this Christmas Eve has been a quiet, muted affair for me. Christmas will follow too in a similar manner, obviously.
Oh holy fucking moly, it’s the end of a deeply exhausting week! Glad that Sam’s surgery is behind us, compelled to pray that her results back clean, and refreshed from my first decent night’s sleep last night. So man, I’m fucking stoked. To being able to relax for the next couple of days, prior to tackling the last week of the semester.
But, enough about my stinking, rotting ass!
How the fuck are you all dong, my friends? This is Weekend Open Bar, and I implore you to hang out with me! Keep me company during this first weekend of December, an odd December no doubt.
You know, it’s been a goddamn crazy week! To the point where I actually started a MMC with the same headline, and, whelp. That shit was flushed down the existentially quickness when the week hit warp speed. That said, I’m here now! How the fuck is everyone doing? Before we get going, a reminder. Check your pants for your genitals, check your wallet for a lucky dollar bill, and check your psyche for the few firing neurons left.
You back? You good? Your biological pump-and-chasm working? Lucky dollar in place? Brain tethered together with Insistence and Folly? Fucking good. Good! So, let’s hang the fuck out now! Given that we’re all in one place, secured, and seizing.
The Cold War is heating up again, motherfuckers! Meanwhile the heat is colding up again, motherfuckers! Man, that was awkward-as-fuck. What I’m trying to say, and failing mind you, is that it’s getting a bit frigid here on the Northeastern Arm of the Empire. But, that ain’t all bad news! With the temperature dropping, and the sun setting, it’s the perfect excuse to stay inside this weekend. Boot-up the PlayStation 5, load-up the new Call of Duty (and Miles Morales) and just be a sack of comfy, cozy shit!
In-between gluttonous play sessions, I hope to spend some time with you fucks here at the Open Bar! I got the hearth going, the suds on tap, and the high-fives primed to be dispensed! Let’s hang the fuck out! Tell me, what are you dudes up to this weekend?
Watching The Mandalorian? Rocking some pre-expansion World of Warcraft? Eating an exorbitant amount of food, happily ensconced in sweatpants and a blanket?
Let’s hang the fuck out.
Yeah, sure, why not stick Jason’s ass to space?! I mean, they sent the motherfucker to “Manhattan” already. What exactly is dude going to do in space? Is it even a proper installment if Jason doesn’t smoke people while they’re fucking? Is there going to be space fucking in this movie? That’s some shit I’m going to find out this weekend, as Bags and I polish off the Friday the 13th series. So obviously, I got big fucking plans this weekend.
Motherfuckers, clap your heads and shout to the skies. It’s the first long weekend of the semester! Let me tell you good friends, it ain’t a moment too soon. Nope! Not at all. Though I have to admit, this week has found me getting more into the swing of this whole virtual existence. It’s all relative, of course. I mean, I’m emotionally exhausted. Wearied about another nine weeks. But at the same time? I really enjoyed my classes this week, and I’ve appreciated some of the smaller virtues of working from home.
Be it watching the leaves fall outside my window, or being able to take a walk before class starts in the morning. This plague has afforded us more time, those of us fortunate to be employed, and healthy.
Mamma mia! Take a depressed dude (hi!) and mix-in some insane work schedule, and what do you get? Just an absolute fucking absence from the digital universe. Specifically, his own Space-Ship. For that, I’m sorry. Apologies, my friends! Apologies. I’m trying. And I suppose that’s really all any of us can be doing in the Year of Misery, 2020.
Shit’s just hard right now! Damn hard. Which means I’m retreating into a cocoon of silence, watching my favorite comedies such as Always Sunny for momentary amusement, and trying and failing to sleep.
It’s a Stephen King quote, friends! But it’s applicable both existentially, and to OL proper! Ya’ll are old friends that I have missed as of late. Lately, I’ve been eating an absolute speed bagging to my proverbial balls. Not even in a bad way, if you can believe it. Rather, just extremely long days sitting in a chair and staring into the void of a webcam while teaching. Immediately followed by a hollowed-out feeling of exhaustion when the daily gauntlet is completed.
Fall semesters are always draining, but they’re doubly draining in this new (and perhaps temporary?) digital world. Everything just flat-out takes more fucking time than it used to. Want to do group work? You can’t just print shit! Gotta assemble individual files for each group’s section, upload said files to Google Drive, check that they’re in the right folder, confirm that they’re shareable. Blah, blah, blah.
Hey, friends! It’s September, and I hope you’re all settling into the transitioning of seasons. As well, apologies for not penning columns as of late. Or, rather, typing. You know. Whatever the case, transmuting thoughts into symbols which make sense to you all. I’m just in a fucking funk, man. And when that shit happens, my expression-based faculties wither. Don’t wanna do anything other than fall inwards! That said, I’m hoping to blast out the comic books column this weekend, and high-five you fuckers in here.
The source of the malaise? Asides from Dead Cells? I think it’s emanating from a general sense of anxiety about teaching online, and the sadness that comes with it. Just not stoked, man. At all!