This is Weekend Open Bar, and I have a confession to make: I am Brett Favre. Last week I firmly, firmly thought to myself, “I’m fucking done with Omega-Level.” Was seriously bumming. My brother doesn’t write any more, my favorite commenters don’t comment any more. Fuck you, Omega-Level. Fuck you. Any of the three people who come across the site may have thought the same thing. There were no new postings. Since I had, in fact, quit. But just like Brett Favre retiring/unretiring/retiring/unretiring, here I am. I just can’t quit.

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Welcome to the Weekend Open Bar! Where the BROS of any self-identified gender come together to hang out! Over the course of two days we share what we’re up to this weekend. You know. Typical shit. What show we’re binge watching on Netflix. What we’re eating. Funny GIFs. Terrible alcohol-fueled revelations we have while hugging the porcelain throne at 3 am after a night of mistakes.

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LIGHT YOUR HAIR ON FIRE AND SCARE YOUR LOVED ONES WITH POLEMICAL MUTTERINGS DENOUNCING THE ELDER GODS! It’s the only way to truly appreciate this column. With your heresy and their tears upon your soul! This is Weekend Open Bar! The weekly weekend column for us weakened weary existential wobblers. We gather around the bar, haphazardly hobbling up to stools. We share what we’re going to be doing across the next two days. Be it food we’re going to eat. Be it mind-enhancing chemicals we’re going to be ingesting. Be it loved ones we’re going to be spending time with. Whatever you’re up to! Share it! Whatever you’re thinking about! Spill it!

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OH FUCK SHIT. The bar is open! It’s late! Supposed to open last night, but here we are. A day late. Namely because I spent last night eating too much, consuming too many mind-altering substances, and then woke up around noon today. But here we are! Let’s shoot the shit about what we’re doing this Weekend. To enjoy our Lives. It’s BLUE SKIES and ABOVE FREEZING TEMPERATURES in my neck of the woods. So we’re already off to a good start. Pull up a chair. Tell me a tale.

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It’s the fucking weekend! It’s the fucking weekend! That means I don’t have to drive into the Frozen Hellscape that is Boston for two fucking days! It also means the Wife is returning from eight days of conferencing in San Francisco! Glory be to the highest, I’m so fucking ready for this weekend. And you should be too! Let’s celebrate together at the Open Bar! Drag a chair up next to me, consume your favorite chemicals, and share what you’re up to the next two days!

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How is it that I only had three days of work this week, and I’m fucking staggered? Could it be the Omni-Pall that has encapsulated Massachusetts? Perhaps, perchance, probably. All I know is that it’s Friday and I’m ready to hit the Open Bar. Shove aside Rendar who is bartending, reach behind the counter, find the biggest, filthiest bottle of Mind Alteration, and take a rip.

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It’s time, friends. Hit the bar. Grab your chemical alteration of choice. Be it Cosmic Dust. Be it Titan Hops. Be it Europa Greenery, grown on our latest terraformed installment of the Empire. And then saunter up to the roundtable at intersection of The End of Good Taste and Unbridled Geek Revelry. This is the Open Bar.

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Oh dip! Living the Hoth Life here on the Eastern Seaboard of the Empire. I can’t grouse too much, though. It’s been a mild winter thus far. But whether or not you’re hunkering down away from the snow or surfing gnarly rays of light, come hither! Gather up to one of my Post-Apocalyptic Trash Fires burning in the Space-Ship Omega. Grab your favorite beverage from the Open Bar. And then share what you’re doing this weekend!

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Welcome to Weekend Open Bar. The column at the end of the Internet, and Work Week, and Conceivable Limits of Good Taste. Within these Wide Walls we saunter up to a round table at the heart of the Space-Ship. And there we unwind with musings about the weekend: what we’re eating, what we’re thinking, what we’re watching-reading-playing. Gifs and giggles and gregarious behavior.

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Or, in other words, the fucking work week looms. The Christmas/New Year’s Siesta is ending, and we are all shuffling back to the Glue Factory. To pay our dues. Until we become the glue. So whether you’ve already started back (I have) or you’re marching back Monday, let’s drink to the fleeting Weekend. This is the Open Bar.

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