Hey friends! It’s time for the Open Bar! The chance to hang out with the denizens of Space-Ship Omega throughout the weekend! In fact, it’s the only place and chance to hang out with (Bateman and) me this weekend! I know, I know. Will we ever stream again?

We will next weekend!

And the following week, we got a special stream on Thanksgiving! Seriously!

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Nature simply does not give a fuck about us, my dudes. And if you can come to accept that, and work within it, it’s sort of freeing. What’s the Grand Plan for us? Nothing. And what does that mean? Fuck if I know. But, is it all hopeless? Fuck nah! At least not for me, an Absurdist Optimist. I’ll forge ahead. What does that mean?

Some days? It means eating an entire pizza, burping my dick into my underwear, and blogging for a couple hours.

Other days? It means mowing the lawn, patting my dog, and attempting to function like a normal human.

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It’s the fucking Weekend, dude. It’s fucking Weekend, dude, and not a moment too soon.

This hermetic, extroverted-introvert has been stumbling through this week. Somewhat, nay, totally viewing Friday afternoon as a refuge seemingly never arriving. Last weekend’s Weddings Doubleheader just left me goddamn mentally depleted. Look at all the fucking italics! Look at all the emphasis! Delirious! Drunk off emotional expenditure!

It’s the fucking Weekend, dude. It’s fucking Weekend, dude, and not a moment too soon.

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This is Monday Morning Commute! The column where we share, oh do we share, the various arts and miscellanies that are looking forward to in a given week. Speaking of this week?

Ohhh, we got ourselves a week, friends.

Ohhh, we got ourselves a panoply of tasty pop culture treats dropping this week, friends.

Well, okay. Not like, that many. But like, the ones that are arriving?

They’re certainly considerable for yours truly. Two follow-ups to a couple of personal favorites. The two of them? They’re enough to grease the rock this week, aid in my pushing of it up the hill.

So let’s get into it. Let us dive in.

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It’s been four weeks, but goddamn, I’m back. Computer, uh, healed. Its technological malfunctions sated by the astralGeniuses and of course the corporealCurrencies paid forth to said astralGeniuses. I, I can’t complain about the corporealCurrencies spent or the fact that the astralGeniuses really didn’t live up to their name. ‘Cause finally I have a fucking computer again. The Engines of Depravity that power the Space-Ship Omega and this Garbage Lord are whirring up to full strength, and we’re just going to fucking resume operations.

I’ve missed you fucks.

This is Monday Morning Commute. The weekly wank-off over the arts&farts that are serving to propel us through a given week. You know, the shit we’re looking forward to, enjoying, anticipating, worshipping, that serve as a balm on the existential burns of existence.

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Hello, salutations, and greetings, fellow Trash Lords. Scions of the Elder Garbage. It’s I, your fearless dumpster pile, Caffeine Powered. Coming to you from a shitty, broken down computer at the public university at which I theoretically work. I say theoretically since due to bureaucracy and the lack of an actual budget for the Fall Semester (seriously), I haven’t gotten paid since August. Eh, whatever, whatever.

I come to you here, because as I’ve commented upon in other posts, my goddamn personal computing machine is about to enter its own fourth week of in-action.

But, hey. I got time before class, so I figured I would throw some sort of line of communication into the EchoChamber.

For perhaps the first and only time, it’s Thursday Whatever The Fuck! My angered, frantic Thursday edition of Monday Morning Commute.

I miss ya’ll, I miss blogging for ya’ll (all three of you), so here’s what I’m up to this week. You know, when I’m not embracing a desiccated bank account and a general malaise.

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God does not care if I jerk off, eat pizza, jerk off while eating pizza. I’ve explicitly asked it for permission while I did both activities. Paws filled with pizza sauce, and people sauce, and a ragged smile. God, I said. Do I have permission for this? No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack. God, I said. Are you busy? I have trouble with the fact that I’m tortured by the past and terrified of the future. No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack. God, I said. Are you busy? I have trouble with the fact that I’m in a rotting meat-case on a rotting planet, and frankly I think it’s a race to the finish line between the two of us. No word. No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack.

Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? It’s the weekend and I want to hang out with all of you. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard. Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? It’s the weekend and I want you to share everything you’re reading, eating, playing, seeing, experiencing with me. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard.

God, I said. Are you busy? Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? Jack, jack, eat, jack. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard.

God, Citizens, let’s spend some time together.

This is Weekend Open Bar.

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School kicks off tomorrow. My anxiety kicked off today. Worrying about my clothes being ironed. Worrying about tomorrow actually being the day school starts. Anxiety is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug for Anxiety. The two of them hanging out in the dank halls of my bathroom-brain, jacking off one another. Caffeine telling Anxiety to make me sweat, make me fart, hand on Anxiety’s slick shaft. Anxiety telling Caffeine to tell me to just have a couple more cans of Pepsi Max, make me jitter, make me palpitate, hand on Caffeine’s slick shaft.

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Welcome to Tuesday Morning Commute! I’m busier than a mofuckah’ here the last week of the semester. Students coming out of the woodwork, not wanting to fail. Tutees wanting me to salvage papers last moment. And grading! Oh, the fucking grading. But I’m almost at the end. I can see six weeks of gluttony, literature, and gaming right around the corner. Here’s what I’m looking forward to this week though. The materials that are dragging me through this sad limp to the finish.

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Can I get a fuck yeah?! It’s Friday! Which means it’s time for many, many things. Provided you are one of us proles blessed (and it is more and more becoming a genuine blessing) with having the weekend off. Drinking! TV binging. Maybe some sexy-sex? Reading, gaming. All sorts of shit! And this is Weekend Open Bar! Where we come together. Pop a soda-beer-bottle-of-wine-whiskey, whatever. Share in the revelry of the next two days.

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