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.
Voltron has been, for my money, one of the most consistent and enjoyable shows going. Period. Full-stop. No qualifiers. Thus, I’m pretty fucking bummed that it’s ending. At the same time though, better to go out on top with a tight story, right?
Sony planning animated ‘Spider-Verse’ spin-offs with ‘Voltron’ showrunners in charge. This is so damn good!
Voltron is the absolute fucking bees knees, and its showrunners Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery rock. Now with the show wrapping-up, it appears the two of them are going to be moving on to very, very cool projects. This is so fucking good, folks.
Oh fuck! I’m a day late! But, is forgiveness offered because it’s a long weekend? Please, forgive me! Seriously though, I’m here! Here now. Here ready to party. Here ready to talk about whatever you wanna talk about. After all, that’s the point of Weekend Open Bar! To shoot the weekend shit with the other denizens of Space-Ship Omega! Let’s talk, fuckers!
Wanna talk prostate orgasms? I’m here.
Wanna talk Sam Esmail’s latest auteur masterpiece Homecoming? I’m here.
Wanna talk Red Dead Redemption 2? I’m here.
Anything and everything goes here within these madness-slickened walls.
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.
Prince Lotor fixing to join the Voltron squad like a bad ass motherfucker. I’m ready for this. Ready.
Man. If you only knew how much time I burned through looking for a header image for this post. If you only knew how much time I burned through trying to come up with a title for this post. But here I am, folks. Opening up the Weekend Open Bar for one and all.
Now. I’m covered in sweat, lowered in the couch, delayed in showering before this evening’s activities.
Later. I’ll be covering myself in crumbs, lowering myself in the couch, consuming media with Bateman.
You. What are you doing tonight? Saturday? This weekend? What are you playing? Eating? Watching? Reading? Contemplating?
Somehow. It’s time for yet another Weekend Open Bar.
Yeah, I know the trailer for the fourth season of Voltron: Legendary Defender dropped last week. But, I didn’t have a computer last, and OL is anything, it’s a compendium of shit I consider dope. Dope shit, if you will. So, I’m posting this fucking trailer, ’cause I’m goddamn pumped for the upcoming season.
Man, I’m like, surprisingly stoked for the third season of Voltron. I mean, I thought I enjoyed the first two, but my anticipation reveals an excitement I wasn’t fully aware of until now. Friday! Fucking Friday!
How are you folks, doing? Me? This human? This flesh-sack, organic-computer, consumption-bot? I’m doing fine.
It’s that weird period of the summer where I’m done teaching, but I still have to go into work.
Just enough of a busy schedule to spend an hour, hour-and-fifteen, or hour-and-a-half in my car, each way, for four days a week.
Just enough of a busy schedule to fight traffic to tutor a couple folks to sit idly waiting to see if anyone else is will need tutoring.
Invariably: they won’t.
Invariably: I’ll sit, eyes-crossed, soul-exhaling-a-continuous-malaise, browsing Tumblr, Facebook, whateverwhatever.
Invariably: then I leave, fighting traffic back to my domicile.
How are you folks, doing? Me? This human? This animated-rot, permanent-horndog, masturbation-factory? I’m doing fine.
This is Monday Morning Commute.