Oh, Lords of Kobol. Bless this rotten husk of a human. My week is over. After a stressful week of prepping to present at a conference, teaching, weeping, teaching, tutoring, prepping, driving to the conference, masturbating into a vial of tears in the lonely hotel room, presenting at the conference, and driving home. And to top that sweet, delicious-ass rump of a factoid off, it’s also SPRANG BREAK!!! So let’s gather around, folks. Pull a chair up to the Weekend Open Bar. The column at the end of the Universe where the degenerates aboard Space-Ship Omega (and you!) share what they’re up to over the course of the next two days.

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It was a very special commute this Monday. The last Monday commute before I rock Spring Break next week! A commute suffused with the knowledge that a Siesta is approaching. A Siesta filled with much gaming, much reading, much much sleeping, and a little comic book convention (more on that next week), too. This is what I’m up to on this week before the Breaking of Spring, and I hope you share your travels, trials, tribulations, and titillations, as well.

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LIGHT YOUR HAIR ON FIRE AND SCARE YOUR LOVED ONES WITH POLEMICAL MUTTERINGS DENOUNCING THE ELDER GODS! It’s the only way to truly appreciate this column. With your heresy and their tears upon your soul! This is Weekend Open Bar! The weekly weekend column for us weakened weary existential wobblers. We gather around the bar, haphazardly hobbling up to stools. We share what we’re going to be doing across the next two days. Be it food we’re going to eat. Be it mind-enhancing chemicals we’re going to be ingesting. Be it loved ones we’re going to be spending time with. Whatever you’re up to! Share it! Whatever you’re thinking about! Spill it!

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It’s Monday. And the work week is beginning for the majority of this. The work weeks will begin for the majority of us, forever, until death or retirement. Which given the state of the Rotting Empire may or may not be available for all of us. In front of us: a wasteland. Or an oasis. Depending on how you approach the rolling of your rock. Do you embrace it? Modify it with personal creation, acts of enjoyment, and a collage of distractions? Or do you pound your fists futilely, condemning the Gods That Don’t Care for y/our fate?

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OH FUCK SHIT. The bar is open! It’s late! Supposed to open last night, but here we are. A day late. Namely because I spent last night eating too much, consuming too many mind-altering substances, and then woke up around noon today. But here we are! Let’s shoot the shit about what we’re doing this Weekend. To enjoy our Lives. It’s BLUE SKIES and ABOVE FREEZING TEMPERATURES in my neck of the woods. So we’re already off to a good start. Pull up a chair. Tell me a tale.

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Greetings, friends. Nihilism is exhausting. But so is commuting an hour-and-a-half every day, both ways. Just sitting in my goddamn car, staring at the brake lights of the Fellow Fools in front of me. I dream of many things, during those hours upon hours of weekly gridlock. Of video games I am looking forward to playing, of movies I am looking forward to seeing. Comics, books, and other distractions.

The yank my corporeal form through the thresher, these distractions. They shove my reluctant soul through the Monday Morning Commute. One week at a time.

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It’s the fucking weekend! It’s the fucking weekend! That means I don’t have to drive into the Frozen Hellscape that is Boston for two fucking days! It also means the Wife is returning from eight days of conferencing in San Francisco! Glory be to the highest, I’m so fucking ready for this weekend. And you should be too! Let’s celebrate together at the Open Bar! Drag a chair up next to me, consume your favorite chemicals, and share what you’re up to the next two days!

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Okay! And we are live, again! Buy These Flippin’ Comics!!! coming to you from the rotting guts of my Mind Palace. It’s a lot like that dweeb Sherlock’s Mind Palace, but the walls are covered in scrawling made from indiscernible fluids that are swearing fealty to the Gods of Diet Dew, Beards, and Buttocks. The room is constantly blaring the bass line to RTJ’s Blockbuster Night Part 1, and everything is generally terrible. But that’s where we’re coming to you from! The fuck do you want me to do? Lie (cheatstealkillwin)? Ain’t going to do it! This week sees a wonderful little collection of comic books hitting me upside the pocket, iPad, tangible bookshelf, booty, brain, and spirit. From the Marvelous Kamala Khan to Them Fucking Aliens out in the Asteroid Belt. From one final (She)-Hulking out to the glorious non-compliant members of Bitch Planet.

These are the comics I’m reading this week. Suggestions, much like free Dew and Nachos, are not just welcomed. They’re fucking encouraged. (Because I’m a fatty caffeine addict, who is oblivious to all the good comics out there.)

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I fucking hate February. I hate its ashen skies. I hate its frigid air. I particularly hate this February. Record setting amounts of snow. Unfathomable cold. And I guess I’m just not coping with it well. The Better Half is away and instead of being a productive, healthy member of It All, I’m ordering Domino’s Pizza and wondering if I can hack elastic bands into my overpriced Name Brand, Fancy Pants leg-warmers.

The February Funk must be conquered, though. Rode out to its logical conclusion, the hopefully more endurable Ides of March. And this is a list of the stuff I’m begging to help carry me through this week. The Monday Morning Commute, as they say.

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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.

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