If I’m being honest, I’ve been staring at this fucking blank text box for about a half-an-hour. Intermittently, I’ll hop on tumblr, stare at some asses, and pop back. Waiting, you see, for something to say. But, I don’t have anything! Not today. No friends, no way. I suppose I could prattle on about how I’m happy it’s the Weekend. So fucking happy, too.
So fucking happy, too, despite the fact that it was a short workweek. However, I think this happiness stems from the fact that I genuinely despise my job these days. Not the teaching part. That’s fucking fantastic. Rather, the other miscellany I must put myself through to pay the bills, because the life of an adjunct is tenuous at best. I don’t know! I don’t, seriously. I exist in a weird liminal state these days. I’m between teaching in the Spring, and teaching my summer class. As well, I’m between the Spring semester I just taught, and figuring out what I’m going to do next Spring.
It’s the weekend, friends. The fucking weekend, friends! Man, I don’t know how a shortened week felt so fucking long, but here I am. Basking in the freedom of two days of adolescent debauchery with a grown-up bank account. And if you’re reading this, you’re here too! By chance or by intention, you’re fucking here too! At the Weekend Open Bar! So now that I got you, so now that you’re here, let’s hang out!
Welcome to the Open Bar, you fucks. The wank-off where we, the gilded turds of the Space-Ship Omega, share what we’re up to during the weekend. I must level with you, seeing Black Panther is at the core of my entire existence the next couple of days. Seeing it tonight, Friday, with comrades. Seeing it Sunday night with my male progenitor. And in the middle? I imagine gushing and flushing all my savory glands discussing it. Here, on OL. Saturday night, on Twitch.
How is it that I only had three days of work this week, and I’m fucking staggered? Could it be the Omni-Pall that has encapsulated Massachusetts? Perhaps, perchance, probably. All I know is that it’s Friday and I’m ready to hit the Open Bar. Shove aside Rendar who is bartending, reach behind the counter, find the biggest, filthiest bottle of Mind Alteration, and take a rip.
Another Monday. Another snow day. The Frost God gives no fuck about the Northeast Corridor of the Empire. Week after week The Frostbitten-Fuck Deity has pummeled us, twisting our psychic-nipples and daring us to concede. There sure ain’t no fucking commuting going on for this guy. There sure ain’t no fucking classes being taught. But at least if the heat goes out, I can use all the syllabi I’ve printed out as fucking kindling. ‘Cause they sure aren’t representative of our semester progression any longer. Alas! Alack! And while there isn’t any shuffling to work today, there is the Abyss that is yet another day or two of Cabin Fever.
Here’s what I’m looking forward to and digging this week. Should I be able to leave the house. Should the power remain on.
What are you sweating over the next seven?