Woo! It’s motherfucking vacation for me, baby! Well, almost. My summer class has concluded, which means that all I got across the next six weeks is the occasional work at the Writing Center. Woo! Woo! Drink in the musk of my euphoria, which will slowly burn off by early evening. I mean, I had to get up at 6:30 this morning. But, fuck it! Woo! Woo! Woo! It’s all good in this realm, baby! And, I hope you motherfuckers are ready to hang out this weekend!
Let’s pop on our robes, pop off our pants, and get to it, fellas! Stylin’! Profilin’! What are you beautiful fucks up to this weekend? Playing anything dope? Reading anything worthwhile? BBQing? It’s the time of times during the week when we all hang.
My, oh fucking my!
It’s the end of the week, friends! It’s the end of the semester, friends! And, it’s a long weekend friends! Praise JCVD, my friends! The All-Father has delivered me to the end of the weird, wild, awful online semester, and I’m stoked.
As well, I found out that due to budgetary problems — if you don’t know this yet, COVID-19 has lit higher education on fire — I can’t begin summer tutoring until June 1. So, not only is it a long weekend, but I’m fucking off until June 3.
My, oh fucking my!
Okay! Last night, I started The Stand. And I must confess, I put in my longest single-sitting reading session in a long, long time. Of course, that’s not counting school-related bullshit. I’m currently 63 pages in, which translates to only 1/20th of the fucking tome.
That said? I’m fucking enjoying it.
As I’ve intimated here before, I’m always down for a good-plague based Apocalypse.
Buy a ticket, take the ride, motherfuckers! As HST says! Tune in, freak out, get beaten, motherfuckers! As HST says! Dust yourself off, stick your middle fingers to the limitless void, and stride forward defiantly, motherfuckers! As I say!
Additionally, let me note that it’s easier to stride forward as a rabid pack of monsters! And that’s what I’m looking forward to doing this weekend, with all you pricks! Sartre said hell is other people, but frankly, he also found deep, deep goodness in the guts of the human soul. So, if that dude can find such grace after surviving a concentration camp, surely I can find it among my genuine friends here on the Space-Ship Omega.
What’s up, fuckers? It’s the Captain of the Space-Ship Omega. And word, I’m actually daring to interact with ya’ll folks. (I had a student tell me to yell “ya’ll folks” when the class acts up, I’m trying it out.)
First things first — no stream again this weekend. I know. I know! But, Bateman is currently in Madrid. Living that glorious life. So, yeah. Fuck us, right?
Second things second — I figured we could hang out here, instead? At Weekend Open Bar!
Man, I’ve been so fucking busy lately. I absolutely adore teaching two summer classes for the first time ever. That said? Monday through Thursday, I ain’t got any extra juice. Apologies! Apologies. The whole waking up early thing ain’t so bad, but I’m fucking tapped by the time I get to a computer in the evening.
You can fucking chart the exact moment when my week ends, as the Engines of Textual Diarrhea snap to life and I begin posting again.
Anyways, how the fuck are you folks this weekend? Anyways, what the fuck are you folks up to this weekend? Anyone seeing Crawl? I wanna. Anyone playing a particular game? I think I’m gonna finally begin my final assault on Red Dead Redemption 2.
Join me around the hearth. Pants down, smiles up.
How’s it going, friends? Me? I’m about to put a cap on the wonderful age of thirty-five. How was the year? Some good. Some bad. Another year of sucking wind, and another year of having my health. Thus, it’s hard not to feel grateful as I hurdle into the back-end of my thirties tomorrow.
I’m in the best shape of my life. Mentally, physically, and as a teacher. Yet, oh does Entropy ever whisper in my ear. Quietly passing along the irrefutable axiom, “all of this is borrowed.” Eh, what can you do, you know? Spend the time with friends and family, purpose and appreciation.
Hey! Jesus Fuck, did we make it? To the weekend? By god, we did! And, if you’re lucky enough to have it the weekend off like me, it’s time to fucking celebrate. Let’s celebrate together, right here! At the Weekend Open Bar! It’s the weekly way station here on the Space-Station Omega! Where we all gather, sharing what we’re up to on a given weekend!
Salutations, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. It is I, your over-caffeinated, mentally-compromised captain! Why, when I’m not hurtling us into the gaping maw of echo-chamber buffoonery, talking about my own dick (and how it pumped, oh did it pump for the Doom Eternal gameplay), and generally embarrassing myself, I like to open up the Open Bar on the weekend! I know, oh do I know. I’m infrequent these days. Apologies all around. Here, here. Take a moist, poorly-wrapped candy from my pocket. Here, here. Take an I.O.U, redeemable for approximately one brutal high-five and chest-bump.
And a pleasant Weekend Open Bar to you all, as well! How’s it going, anyways? Hope you’re as lucky as me, to have the next couple of days to convalesce. And if you don’t? May you find the strength to punch the fucking weekend work day squarely in the throat! Indeed, indeed! Maybe you find the strength to axe-kick its compromised organs, and drink from its futility! Fuck, fuck. I was trying to come in here floaty, relaxed from yoga. That’s a thing I’m doing now, I guess.
Going to my wife’s class on Friday evenings.
I’m as basic and as privileged as they come, but, what do you want from me? I hope some sort of meta, tactic acknowledgement of this can salve my weeping wound which has burst open from leaning into Generica.