Eat gator! Jerk off in the woods! Sweat too much, smell too awfully. Enjoy nature! Curse how it makes your balls smell. Am I talking about my trip to Denver last month? Or am I talking about Red Dead Redemption 2? Why not both, you son of a bitch! Yadda yadda, blah blah. How the fuck are you folks doing? Me? I’m doing a-okay. Sleep late, masturbate. Two of the pillars of my current summer vacation. Life ain’t bad.
I mean, if you can ignore the Arctic melting, and the rise of fascism. But, I have faith you can. Us rot-mouth flesh-bellies have tremendous power to deny forthcoming doom. I imagine that prowess stems from our incessant need to deny our own mortality, and works its way into shuttering our eyes at the very-not-good situation on this planet.
Anyways! Holy fuck, what’s up? Glaze your tits, gaze your eyes, and join me here at Monday Morning Commute.
The impending mortality? The horrors of modern culture?
Why, gloss them over with some distractions. And, share your particular distractions this week!
I’ll go first, fellow meat-bags.
I am very excited for GLOW‘s third season. You should be too.
We finally, finally got a release date for the third season of GLOW. Shit’s elbow dropping on August 9, and I’m eager to get back into the ring with the show. Okay, I’m done now.
Here’s the first trailer for the second season of GLOW, folks. The shit is both a fitting homage to the time period in which the show takes place, and an ample hype-piece.
GLOW may be my damn favorite piece of 2017 pop culture. It had everything, my friends. Took place in the 1980s, centered on wrestling, starred Alison Brie, and was packed with insight and pathos. Now the gang seems to be back together, on that filming the second season grind.
GLOW is my favorite installment of pop culture this summer, so I’m stoked-torqued-jacked that the show will be getting a second season. I had sort of assumed it was going to be renewed. However my scrotum tightened with fear with each week that passed with no announcement. Relax, scrotum! Flop free, flop in celebration!
I don’t know, what the fuck do you want from me? Just kind of in a funk, lately. Not pervasive, rather it sort of floats in and out of my day. Tired. Burnt out. Expressed the idea to my wife yesterday and her response was immediate, logical, and undeniable: I haven’t had a proper vacation in who the fuck knows how long, and I work myself to death. Always busy. Always tired. Always distracted.
Case in point, I write the above paragraph at 2pm during my lunch break. But, here I am, now! It’s 7pm. I have surfed time, space, commuter traffic, a half-assed workout, and a dog walk to rejoin this act of writing. I’m just, you know. Tired.
But! Hey! It’s Monday Morning Commute! By way of Tuesday. Despite being slathered in a melange of malaise, I’m actually looking forward to some shit this week, I’m actually consuming some pop culture I’m enjoying this week.
Join me in the comments with your own pop culture proclivities, thoughts on existence, gifs of furries farting on cakes. I don’t give a shit.
It’s the Weekend Open Bar and goddamn am I happy to be spending it with you.
Long weeks seem to be relative, you know? Like cock size, intelligence, and the amount of pseudo-beef in our CancerBurgers™. So, despite the fact that I had Tuesday off (America, baby!) and today off (teaching schedule, baby!), I’m still heartened it’s the Weekend. I think most of my brain-gut-tumult this week was the result of Sam starting her new job. She was segueing from the former one, and acclimating herself to the new one.
A pervasive talent of anxiety is the ability to just straight fuckin’ OpticBlast that shit all over myriad elements of one’s own life. Money stressors? OpticBlast! Papers to grade? OpticBlast! Wife starting a new job? OpticBlast!
Netflix dropped its first trailer for GLOW, a series centered around a women-only wrestling league formed in the 1980s. Me? I’m in. It’s got Brie, wrestling, humor, and it’s set in the 1980s.