Monday Morning Commute: NEURAL STEW for the SYNAPSE BURN

…hello there, friends. Caffeine Powered at your service. I do not say leisure, for I am a busy’d man these days. It is a Sunday Evening whilst I type this, it will be a Monday Morning on the Eastern Seaboard of the Theoretically United States when this is published. As I tippy-type, I race the literal clock. How can I share with you what I am going to be enjoying in this next week (as per the nature of Monday Morning Commute), while still finishing before Breaking Bad begins? Easy. By doing what I always do. By typing with stunning alacrity, nauseating disregard for grammatical form, and an utter disregard for proof-reading.

Let’s do this, you turkeys.

Agents of SHIELD premieres this week and I have no fucking idea if the show is going to be any good. In its corner: it’s Joss fucking Whedon. In the opposite corner: I don’t know the trailers really haven’t done much for me. Looks a bit hokey. But maybe all Whedon looks a little hokey, out of context? Early reviews are hot.

Imma stay positive.

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Have you seen Hyper Light Drifter? It’s a little fucking darling of an indie game that just crushed its Kickstarter goals. Seriously. Check it out. Gorgeous.

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Pretty much this time next week Breaking Bad will airing its final episode. That shatters my fucking heart almost as much as the show does on the reg. As I contemplate a post-BB world, I see nothing but ruins and diversions. Some will walk up to me and say “The Wire” or “Boardwalk Empire.” I will know in my heart of hearts they mean me well. They do not dare to gouge at my oozing udders with barbs intentionally, but still they hurt. For when you lose someone you love, the last thing you want to hear is about how utterly replaceable they are.

Bitch.

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Yeah I’m totally going to be gooing in my pants this Friday while seeing Don Jon. If I’m even wearing pants. I mean. C’mon. ScarJo. That red dress. JGL looking like GTL. Too much for my balls. Don’t worry, though. I already checked with Mrs. Caffeine Powered and she’s assured me that it’s okay if I attend the viewing sans pantaloons. She’ll run interference for me while I gaze into the abyss of flesh-based satisfaction. How? She’s got a mean right hook and can shriek like the Banshee that assuredly birthed her.

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I supposethatisaboutitforme, how about you folks? I’m busy. Please entertain me in my sparse moments of relaxation. Namely while I read your responses on my iPhone, while taking a dump at work.