Monday Morning Commute: Bootyin’ Poppin’ Goodness
And the seven thunders uttered! How the fuck is it going? Are you happily ensconced in your cubicle? Are you like me, with a pile of short stories to read, and a paper to write? Are you a single mother at home, on your ninth bag of Doritos and early awaiting today’s episode of Oprah? Are you stoked? Pumped? Ready to feel the burn? What are you looking forward to this week? This month! Tell me. I yearn to know. And for your underpants. Just saying.
Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.
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Playing / Super Mario Galaxy 2
Super Mario Galaxy 2 is the fucking shit, yo. I spent the better part of the weekend either playing it by myself, or rocking out as P2 while my Significantly Superior Other burned through it on her own save file. Seriously, it was a moment to remember. My lady isn’t a gamer, but she is a sympathizer. So looking over at her, tweaking out on Diet Mountain Dew (now she understands its power) and fucking lusting for yet another star was a moment of complete gamer geek ecstasy. I’d like to thank the god I don’t believe in since it seems to have given some sort of karmic high-five in the form of a beautiful intelligent blond girl who was a total geek for a weekend.
Huzzah!
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Watching / True Blood Season 3
True Blood starts this Sunday! Why am I so excited?!?!? I don’t fucking know! If you have been unlucky to have followed this blog since its inception, you know that I spent a lot of my initial days on it bemoaning Alan Ball and the second half of Season Two with a fury usually reserved for hated sports teams. (Fuck you Canadiens, burn Quebec.)
But now? All of the bile and apoplectic rage has subsided. Instead of focusing on the fact that True Blood’s second season was able to make me tired of Anna Paquin’s tits and orgies somehow, I’m going to remember that I really dug the first season, half of the second, and every new season brings a chance at redemption.
Plus, I find half of the cast ineffably gorgeous.
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Being a permanent college resident and man-child who is both unemployed and near the poverty line, I spend a lot of time at home. And doing so, I’ve noticed that I am a stellar, stellar house wife. It isn’t that I am particularly good at chores. I mean, I am. I love doing laundry, the dishes, vacuuming. But it’s also that I enjoy them. There’s something zen about repetitious motions. I generally find myself getting lost in the routine, and it allows me to relax a bit, and think about stupid shit and meditate on stuff like Superman, sociocultural norms, the glories of caffeine, gender construction, and the fucking beauty that is Kristen Bell. My thoughts run a wide range, carefully straddling the line between academia and adolescence.
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Reading / Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne
What do you get when you combine Grant Morrison’s hallucengenic oddities with a gorgeous cast of artists? You get the Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne mini-series. At first I wasn’t stoked on the concept. Captain America had just spent a glorious amount of time moseying through the space-time continuum in his return, so I wasn’t jazzed on doing it again with Mr. Wayne. But two issues into the event and I am sold man, sold.
Why?
‘Cause its righteous. Morrison’s taken the Bat-Man not only to the past, but also to the edge of the death of the universe far in the future. Using the time epochs in history to examine their approach to superstition and symbolism as power meshes nicely with a man who has predicated persona on the fear that a Bat-Symbol brings with it. I found the second issue particularly righteous, as it delved into the witch trials, and how they turned a blind eye towards reason in the pursuit of that which they couldn’t explain and a desire to draw everything back to biblical phenomenon and the such.
If you’re a comics fan, read it.
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The worst part about reading all day is that I generally don’t want to do any reading after it. As such, the backlog of not only comic books but also fiction has been steadily piling up in my room. It sucks, but sorry Fantastic Four, even though you’re dope as fuck and one of my favorite funny books, when I look at you, I just feel like I can’t give you the attention you deserve. Some day child, when things slow down, I’ll do right by you. I promise.
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What are you foolish mortals up to this week, and digging on?
Hollaback.