We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be, friends. But let me tell you, I’m not futzing pretending to be excited for this Weekend. I am bonafide stoked it’s Friday. What a goddamn week. Coming back to campus and attempting to teach classes after Thanksgiving Break is like attempting to stand in the fifth round of a fight against in-his-prime Anderson Silva.
For the students, and myself.
Eyes glazed. Lethargic. The world spinning. Not really sure how we’ve gotten this far and not sure how we’re going to make it to the final bell.
After today, I got one more week of classes to go. However, the idea of that one last week stresses me the futz out. But I’ve got the weekend. And so we have the Weekend Open Bar. Pull up a stool, friends. Let us hang out for the next two days. Share what we’re going to do be doing during this liminal state – both after and before grinding away our existence.
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!
As you may or may not know, it’s the fucking Snowpocalypse here on the Northeastern Seaboard of the Empire. We ain’t fucking Commuting Anywhere! It’s the End Times! That’s what the media says! No worries. No sweat. I have serious provisions: four twelve-packs of Diet Dews. Five pounds of Laffy Taffy. A family-sized box of Chez-Its. And I have serious amounts of time on my hands, too. Multiple feet of snow coming in. Multiple miles-per-hour of serious wind. Probably ain’t going to teach again until Friday. So this is what I’m filling my week with. Both during the Snowpocalypse and after we dig out.