Motherfuckers, clap your heads and shout to the skies. It’s the first long weekend of the semester! Let me tell you good friends, it ain’t a moment too soon. Nope! Not at all. Though I have to admit, this week has found me getting more into the swing of this whole virtual existence. It’s all relative, of course. I mean, I’m emotionally exhausted. Wearied about another nine weeks. But at the same time? I really enjoyed my classes this week, and I’ve appreciated some of the smaller virtues of working from home.
Be it watching the leaves fall outside my window, or being able to take a walk before class starts in the morning. This plague has afforded us more time, those of us fortunate to be employed, and healthy.
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.
Hey friends! Happy fucking Fourth of July Weekend! I wanna open up the Bar, so we can spend some time together the next couple of days. But, I’m pressed as fuck for time! Which means I gotta do it quicker than a motherfucker. So, I’m going to ask you to come hang out! Tell me! What are you doing to celebrate, if anything? Let me know! Blowing up phalanges with fireworks? Eating seared animal flesh? Watching Jaws? I want to know!
We’re all living within Dr. Fauci’s houseparty, baby! I got to say, fucking kudos to the absolute force of a man. Being able to persuade the Rotten Orange into issuing decrees (albiet tardily) that he clearly didn’t want to is impressive. Will he win the push for a federal lockdown? Who knows! But, dude has clearly persuaded most states into chilling at home. If I’m even half as cogent as dude is at the age of 79, I’ll consider if a flat-out, nipple-stiffening victory. As an aside, man, can you really contemplate what your nipples and genitals are going will like at that age? Fauci, though? I bet dude has huge balls, though. Cannonballs.
Greetings, fellow travelers upon the Space-Ship Omega! It’s I, your depraved and debauched captain. Walking around, wearing only boxer briefs and a compromised smile! How are you? Me? I’m doing decent enough. Pausing for a moment, taking a good goddamn breath. It’s hard to believe July is almost over. But, it’s also not that hard. My word, what a fucking busy month. Went to a funeral, taught two classes, went to Denver, ate too much. However, I’m done! Done teaching, at least until September.
Thus, I’m stoked to spend this time reconnecting with you all. Here on the blog! Hopefully this weekend, on Twitch!
What are you up to this week? Playing anything? Watching anything? What measures are you taking to stay cool, as the Earth melts and hope evaporates? I wanna know!
I’ll go first.
Welcome to Weekend Open Bar, my friends!
I’m not dead, not sad, just busy these days my friend! That said, I apologize! How the fucking fuck have you fucking folks been? Me? I feel eerily content. Not euphoric which is rare, not happy which is fleeting, but generally content. I can’t explain it. Or, rather, I suppose I can. Teaching is fantastic, my diet is good, I’m getting a lot of sleep and exercise, and by god, I swear it, yoga fucking works.
I’m like, really bad at relaxing. Really, really bad. So bad that despite the fact that I’m supposed to have this week off from work, I still went in yesterday. Better yet, I ended up tutoring, too! It’s just, just difficult for me to wind down from teaching a class (or four) and tutoring thirty hours a week, and segue into not burning out glorious upon the Fury Road. I mean, today, my wife had to talk me out of going to the gym before I go to spin class tonight. I’m trying! I’m trying my goddamn best. I mean, I gave up on two trips to the gym today! That’s gotta…that’s gotta be progress, I think?
But, I’m here now! Connecting with you, my fellow trash-blesssed folk aboard the Space-Ship Omega! Inviting you to join me here in Monday Morning Commute! I got, I got a serious fucking caffeine buzz going, and I’m about to enumerate the various bullshit I’m excited about this week. The happenings that are happening that will happen to help me to enjoy this week off from work.
Then! If the Eldritch Ones hear my prayer, you’ll share your own weekly musings in the comments section.
It’s been a moment since I crept out from under the shadows and issued forth a Weekend Open Bar, huh? For that, I apologize. How the fuck are you doing, friends? Apologies for the tardiness, and all that happy horse shit. You know how it goes, or maybe you don’t know how it goes.
But, when the MalaiseVapors got your synapses in their claws, it’s hard to fight back.
But, I’m here now. The MalaiseVapors beat back, another row in the books. They’re gone, but not forgotten. They’re gone, but they’ll return. They always return, to dance the Dance Macabre.
I, I don’t got nothing to say. Been up since around 9 am, peak caffeine hit around six hours ago, and now I’m sort of downshifting my horrid, horrid, chemically-abysmal blood in preparation for a more relaxed evening. So, the invocations bring nothing to the finger tips. Especially since, if I’m being honest, I really want to be supine with a couple of funny books in my grubby paws.
It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby! This is the freakin’ Weekend Open Bar, baby! After a particularly strenuous week, I’m happy to report I’m currently supine. Type-type-typing away. Next to Mrs. Omega. Got a weekend of gaming, reading, watching, and sleeping on the docket. Can’t complain, can’t complain.