Goddamn, if I don’t feel like MacReady these days. Like, my body may very well lay in bed for eight hours every night. Maybe more! But, fuck me sideways. Whatever I’m engaging in certainly isn’t restful sleep. Probably getting in some good core workouts though, whilst I slumber. Motherfucking tossing! Motherfucking turning! Just fucking tired, man. And while I can wear my faithful baseball cap to cover my bedhead, I can’t hide these bags under my eyes from coworkers and students.
Eh, fuck it! It’s a pandemic. If bags under my eyes are the greatest of my physical concerns, I’ll jot myself down as blessed.
Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute! You know the motherfucking drill! I’ll share what I’m partaking in, to distract and titillate myself. Then, you’ll join me in the comments. Sharing your own distractions, distinctions, and diatribes.
We’re all living within Dr. Fauci’s houseparty, baby! I got to say, fucking kudos to the absolute force of a man. Being able to persuade the Rotten Orange into issuing decrees (albiet tardily) that he clearly didn’t want to is impressive. Will he win the push for a federal lockdown? Who knows! But, dude has clearly persuaded most states into chilling at home. If I’m even half as cogent as dude is at the age of 79, I’ll consider if a flat-out, nipple-stiffening victory. As an aside, man, can you really contemplate what your nipples and genitals are going will like at that age? Fauci, though? I bet dude has huge balls, though. Cannonballs.
Hey, friends! Welcome to another edition of Monday Morning Commute, within the current pandemically painful climate! I must confess, these posts are a bit difficult to write as of late. Not that I don’t want to hang with you all — in fact, I think that may be the primary reason I churn them out at all. Rather, it’s just deeply, deeply difficult for me to concentrate on anything days. One minute I’ll be cruising along the highway of Vibe City, and the next I’m contemplating society, the health of my friends, and the health of my wife’s employment and my own. But, what the fuck can you do? Cave? No way! Instead, we must make like Rambo.
That’s right. Strip off our shirts, oil up our bodies, and launch explosive-tipped arrows at our malaise. Let our hair be as beautiful as him, and let our aim be as true.
I’ll go first! Join me in the comments.
By god! It’s the Weekend! But, what the fuck is the weekend during The Plague? A valid question, honestly. Maybe a lazy question, too. ‘Cause despite working from home, I’ve been goddamn busy. So this weekend is going to be a nice respite from the hectic work schedule.
Get in a little gaming.
Smoke a little weed.
Hang with you fuckers on the stream.
Great glorious fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be working. But, today I returned to teaching from Spring Break. And granted, I’m pretty fucking depressed that it’s virtual. At the same time, though, I feel as though I had purpose for the first time in weeks.
You know, like healthy purpose.
Not the sort of purpose that just has you existentially laying in the fetal position (last week). Or, eating two pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, because fuck it (last night).
We’re at Doom’s Gate, motherfuckers! But, we’re in it together. I know it seems like small potatoes, but this week has at least felt like a communal panic. It sounds absurd, but it’s nice to feel closer to the communities I’m belong to, and my friends. If we’re on the Titanic, at least we’re all waltzing together, no?
So, let’s waltz here! At the Weekend Open Bar! It’s usually the weekly siesta where we gather, and share what we’re up to during a specific Weekend. And, that’s still the point of this son of a bitch! But, let’s also just hang out, stare at the sky together, and metaphorically scream.
Let’s spend time, friends!
What’s up, travelers aboard the Space-Ship OMEGA? It’s finally, finally the Weekend Open Bar.
Boy. Weird week, no? COVID-19 has finally struck America’s consciousness, and such a strike has felled any sort of normalcy. Ain’t no sports! Ain’t no toilet paper! Movie premieres being delayed. Schools being closed. What the fuck! What the fuck does this all mean?
Honestly, I don’t know!
Feels great, baby! Being back to school. Like, no, really. For the moment, it does. The break was needed, but a little forward momentum is nice. At a certain point, relaxing just sort of feels normal. There ain’t the pang of appreciation anymore when you sit down to watch a movie. Or hang out with a friend. So, fuck yeah! I’m back in motion, for fifteen weeks. Dusted off the brain-piece, and have officially begun rambling, swearing, and sweating in front of students.
However, as I said, this means I actually have things to look forward to enjoying.
What are said things? I’m glad you asked! I’ll tell you down below, as well as what I’ve been digging on since we last spoke.
Let’s spend time, fellow sentient beings.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
What’s good, friends? It’s a cold as fuck day here along the Northeastern seaboard of the Empire proper! I’m bundled up, hunkered down, and penning this love letter to the distractions that fill my life! To distract me from mortality, working on my syllabus, and other more pressing, but much less enjoyable opportunities.
That is, of course, the modus operandi of Monday Morning Commute.
I go “blah blah blah I’m enjoying these things” in this here post.
Then you go “blah blah blah I’m enjoying these things” in the comments.
What a great time!