Monday Morning Commute: Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay!

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Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay! I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here! Would you believe, would you somehow believe, that I didn’t get around to this column until today, Tuesday, because my wife and I had to go out to eat with a financial advisor last night? What life am I living? Who am I? Am I child-man in semen-crusted Star Wars shirts that dreams of being a man-child, or a man-child in dress pants who dreams of being a child-man in semen-crusted Star Wars shirts? The answer, of course, is that I am both. And the cognitive dissonance that arises from containing both entities in the Multitudes that Compromises Me (and Us all) sometimes gives me a nosebleed. Well, I’m getting the nosebleed from that, or the hundreds upon hundreds of milligrams of caffeine I ingest every day. One of those. Maybe both of those.

But I’m here now. But it’s Monday Morning Commute now. So here’s the deal now, Comrades. I’m about to fire off everything I’m enjoying this week, anticipating this week, looking forward to this week. Then you’re going to do me a solid!, a fucking solid!, and share your own list in the comments section.

Let’s be man-children posing as children-men posing as man-children together.

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Weekend Open Bar: Kids On Bikes / Stars In Space


Finally, the Bar is back! Finally, the Bar is Open! Where have I been? Where have you been? A blinking cursor staring at an unclicking keyboard, attempting to nudge an illusory mousepad. Right? Right! Right? Right! I think, if the synapses are firing correctly, and oh god are they never firing correctly anymore, that this is my second week off from the (welcomed) grind of summer teaching. I’ve been filling my (non)free hours with posting dumb memes on OL’s Facebook page, tutoring students on campus, eating too little, conversely at times eating far too much, and occasionally playing Rise of the Tomb Raider and Borderlands 2.

Oh. And oh! Oh. And oh!! Oh. And oh!!! I’ve also been obsessing over Stranger Things which really should be called Boner Things or perhaps more accurately An Array of Things In The Guise of a Television Show That Give Me A Boner. Not sure why they didn’t go with that title, but I suppose one’s flaws serve only to point out their perfections. Or, in my case, to keep me from getting laid the first twenty-five years of my life and suffer through wearing an uncomfortable though familiar shawl of self-doubt and insecurities. But we can talk about that more! Later! Oh, where, when, later?

How about here, in the comments section, of Weekend Open Bar!

The weekly column where I encourage those of you kind enough, brave enough, pitying enough, lonely enough, horny enough, strong enough, gassy enough, brash enough to share what you’re up to during a given weekend.

Share what you’re eating. Share what you’re watching. Share what you’re playing. Fuck it, tell me what’s giving you a boner. I don’t care! We’re all friends! We’re all family! You’re all getting a toenail and a used pair of underwear of mine when I die, so fuck, you know you’re close to me.

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