Remember how last week I was all excited for life? This week is the glorious inversion of such a feeling. A viscous ladling of ennui is rattling around my belly, daring me to frown. There isn’t so much a reason for me to be sad, rather I’m just like “oh hey, I exist.” Eh, what can you do. Some weeks are more thrilling than others. So I turn to you, dare readers, in this newest of Monday Morning Commutes. Tell me what you’re enjoying this week. Inspire me. I beseech thee. And thee. And thee.
Hit the jump for my tepid chocies for the next seven days.
…and a good day to you too, folks. For those of you here in the Empire, I hope your long weekend was rather enjoyable. Me? Oh, I had myself a blast. Took one off the chin in the world of sporting events (hint), but what the fuck can you do. This weekend also saw the frozen ice guys back on the prowl, with Rendar and myself enjoying a jaunt to the ice chest today ourselves. Local team won, we ate something like ninety-three hot dogs. By the end of the day I was able to smile again, thanks to a little salve on the nips. This is Monday Morning Commute, a column which a list of coping mechanisms we use to get ourselves through the doldrums. Coping mechanisms (video games) for when coping mechanisms (sports teams) fail. System redundancies.
Hello friends. Nuzzle your bunghole close to the center of your leather seat here aboard the Mothership, and grab a beverage. This here is Monday Morning Commute, the therapy session where we all discuss the various arts, crafts, beverages, and bloat-inducing burgers that are helping us through this thing called Existence. Oh me? I’m just wallowing away here on break from work. My days have slide into nights, vampire weekends into a vampire existence. I’ve broken the noon wake-up call a couple of times, and my self-loathing is spiking. You’re all beautiful.
I know the gang Omega did our Year’s Best articles, and 2013 anticipations were one of the categories. Well I have a busy week, so I’m going to use this High to both expand on that idea, and save time by not having to pick a category to write about. So here are the things I’m early awaiting for the upcoming year.
P.S. I know I said Star Trek was something I’m eagerly awaiting, and I am, but it didn’t even make the list.
This is it kids. This is the final stretch; the season finale of Justified. Our dear friend Raylan has been through a lot these past few weeks.
The pieces are in place. The guns are primed. The powder keg is lit. The shit is going down on Justified. Take off your Stetson, throw your boots on a table, sit back and stay a while.
Shit is getting real. The pieces on the board are inching closer towards checkmate. Soon enough we’ll see who’s still standing … ok, to be fair we’ll see how Raylan and Boyd put everyone else down. So prop up your feet, sit back, and let’s have a look see at this past week’s Justified.
This week we open up Justified with a few deputies trying to plant some drugs inside Shelby’s pick-up. This election business is turning nasty. When one of the deputies threatens to shoot down dear ol’ Shelby, he spins a tale about having liver cancer. I suppose I’d be less willing to draw down on a man with a close expiration date. Shelby sends them packing with a scolding and heads over to Boyd’s for advice and a drink. We’re in the home stretch of season three; let’s see how the final few innings play out.
After a long day of being accused of corruption and murder, Raylan likes to kick back, have a beer, and hide the weapon used to frame him. All in a day’s work for our favorite US Marshal.
This week of Justified starts moments after last week’s episode. Sammy gets a call that is presumably faked to tip off the feds that Raylan may be dirty. We then go to what would be a forced shot of Raylan sitting in a bar listening to music, however it is interleaved with Quarles and Duffy disposing of Gary. Goddamn I love the editing of this show. Quarles shoots and kills Gary and leaves him on the front doorstep of Winona’s house. Looks like tomorrow might not be Raylan’s best day ever.