More Moxxi! All the time! Where the fuck is Borderlands 3?! I miss it! Been too long. (And I ain’t counting TPS.)
First weekend of my post-semester existence! Which, really, doesn’t mean much to me. Still papers to grade. Still college essays to read for placements. Still a conference presentation to cobble together. Still a looming summer semester to plan for. Still a wedding. Fuck, fuck, fuck! But honestly? I’m sort of addicted to the chaos. Whenever I truly have nothing to do, I sort of fart about. Eat too much. Lament my mortal coil’s sloughing. But when I’m busy? Miserable. Ah! To be bipolar. Ah! To be human. Enough about me, though. This is Weekend Open Bar!
It’s getting nice out, folks. The sunshine is popping here on the Northeastern seaboard of the Empire. Temperatures are in the 80s today. The sky is blue. It’s almost enough to get you through the workday alone. If you’re one of those people who can appreciate leaving to Sol smiling upon your face, and not lament the fact that you’re indoors for eight-hours of its beauty. I am one of those people. So I’m feeling pretty fucking content, today. But that doesn’t mean I ain’t sweating a bunch of stuff this week. So Monday Morning Commute shall, of course, run its course. It just means that I’m going to be moderately less depressed as I toil through the week towards enjoying these arts, farts, and sundries.
It’s the fucking weekend! Gather ye rosebuds while ye may! And fucking smoke them! Get lifted, ascend to a new level of Enlightenment! And then waste that Enlightenment on video games, comic books, hikes in the woods, eating too much! Whatever the fuck you want to do this weekend! But so long as you’re smoking them rose buds, crushing them Adult Sodas, and enjoying a break from the work week, hang out here! At the Weekend Open Bar! Anything goes as long as it is in the spirit of celebration. Unless it’s lighting your pubes on fire in the bathroom. We’ve had a spat of that lately (sorry), and we still can’t get the smell out of the pineapple wallpaper.
Boo! Hiss! Gnashing of teeth! A collective of rather talented developers behind some appreciable sequels to classics is closing their doors.
You’re alive, yo. Day after day you’re telling Death “No” and sauntering on in the Oblivion that is a Godless, Apathetic Existence. There’s something to appreciate in that effort alone. You’re Conquering the Drive to give into Entropy. Someday you’ll stagger, fall, maybe even tap. Don’t take it personally, don’t take it as a slight against your character. Even the Universe is mortal. But for now, while we persist, let’s body slam existence together. Celebrate the Weekend with this Open Bar.
Goddamn! I say GODDAMN! Paste me with Peanut Butter and send me into a crowded elevator. I’m fucking FEELING this Moxxi cosplay. For REASONS. The only mentionable one being that it reminds me that Real Shoot and Loot: Fuck Destiny is dropping next week. HUZZAH. PRAISE THE LIZARD-LORDS. *Begins speaking in tongues.*
Hello friends. Humanoids. Martians. Sentient cups of coffee. Pythons with overdeveloped cerebral systems courtesy of Nazi experiments still being conducted on the Far Side of the Dark Side of the Forgotten Moon of Jupiter, Rapture. If you’re reading this, I implore you to join in this wonderful column-based activity. Monday Morning Commute. The place where us Conscious Piles of Organic, Inorganic, and Unidentifiable Matter gather and share what we’re digging on during a given week.
I’ll go first, then you share your weekly beloveds.
Ah, Borderlands. Don’t ever fucking change. The franchise is already absurd. The title for the forthcoming game is doubly absurd. And now having Handsome Jack recite a narcissistically-altered rendition of that poem Walter White wrote (heh) for Breaking Bad, “Ozymandias?” Absurdity+++