Eternal thanks to JCVD, I’ve fucking made it to this mini vacation. Thanksgiving to the Man Himself, you know? I woke up this morning on the start of my Long Weekend, and, fuck. I actually slept well. It’s amazing how glorious emerging from a deep slumber is, especially when there’s no alarm clock awakening you. I hope you’re as fortunate enough as me to be embarking on your own mini-vacation.

And if so, I hope you’ll spend some time during it here at the Open Bar.

Sharing what you’re going to be doing amid this temporary Oasis. Eating so much you gotta pop your top button? Catching-up on Watchmen, or sweating The Mandalorian? Rock fighting the elderly for a PS4 Pro bundle on Black Friday? I want to know!

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Hello, friends! It’s The Weekend Open Bar! Come hang out!

I’m feeling good over here. The weather has finally turned here on the Eastern seaboard of the Empire. My semester has finally ended. And, I’ve gotten consecutive nights of good sleep. All of this is to say is that I’m actually sticking my head out of the Depressive Cocoon I build around myself ever so often, and smiling!

By god, smiling.

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Hell yes, it’s Weekend Open Bar.

What’s up, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega? Me? This guy? I’m celebrating the cessation of the semester! Or, at least, the last full week. Not only that, but it’s the motherfucking weekend! With that in mind, I must cop to you that I’m about to eat too much, sleep too much, play too much, smoke too much, and smile too much.

And, I implore you fellow degenerates to join me in my revelry here in the Open Bar!

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Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.

Can minimize the amount of time I’m stuffed into these ever-tightening pants, and maximize the amount of time I’m working towards further corpulence. It’s a merry sequence, a happied romance. I hope, oh I hope to do it with you folks. Here at the Weekend Open Bar. The weekly weekend invitation, nay, the weekly weekend invocation of the citizens of Space-Ship Omega. To gather around the digi-hearth and spend their weekend together. Sharing what we’re eating, sharing what we’re drinking, sharing what we’re reading. Sharing anything and everything! Drunken tales of anal gapes around Slurpee dispensers. Sober tales of contemplating. Anything and everything.

Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.

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It’s the Weekend Open Bar, man. Come, come join me. But for Space’s Sake, slam that hatch closed tight. It’s cold out there, in Cosmoblivion. Yes, yes indeed. Cold out there, but warm in here. At the Open Bar. Familiar fellows who frequent these grounds know the drill. They’re already perched atop their favorite stool, ready to rock.

For those not familiar, for those just embarking on the Space-Ship Omega, I’ll help you out. Throw you a Martian Ale, or prep-up the mind-gun with the finest of Jovian dust. Introduce you to the rest of the gang. Introduce you to what this here Open Bar is all about.

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Your Flesh Sac will whisper wearingly to you, if you let it. Letting you know that your knees are giving, your rib cage is creaking, and your heart is just sort of fucking tired. Your Flesh Sac will point out the fleeting Liminal Burp that is all your life. Do not listen. Do not believe its lies. It is the only way to sally forth into the resplendent Gloom of Oblivion that awaits us all with your head held high.

(Unless someone decapitates you and raids the Gates of Eternity with your Head on a Pike. There is also that way.)

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