#Weekend Open Bar
Weekend Open Bar: Upon the gilded plains of mortality
My wife turns thirty this weekend, Saturday to be specific. It’s a weird sensation, knowing that she has shacked up with me for life, and been with me since she was literally twenty. Spent her golden years with a guaranteed Garbage Lord. It’s nice though, to chart our progress together, to check off life events together, and even more specifically to get high, eat cookies, and watch Workaholics together.
It’s nice, it’s quaint, it’s quiet.
I like spending time with her, and I like spending time with you folks, you denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. So let’s hang out at the Weekend Open Bar. Pass some marginal time within our comfortably marginal existences together, as we are lucky enough (or not lucky enough, the grape press of industry is whittling away our off-time) to have the next couple of days off.
So comrades, what are you doing this weekend? What are you watching? Eating? Reading? Thinking about? Anything and everything goes, so long as you adhere to the sign above the Tavern entrance: Thou Shalt Not Be A Douche.
No Comments
Weekend Open Bar: Draxx Them Sklounst!
I come to you, friends, from the Precipice of Doom. That’s right, I’m awaiting Bateman to pick me up in his charlatan chariot, and whisk me away to Montreal with the majority of OL for a Bachelor Weekend for a mutual friend. I come to, you, one Bateman-on-his-phone away-driving-100mph from the obliteration of Space-Ship Omega. I’m being dramatic, but I do anticipate witnessing some *shit* this weekend, the eye of a mellifluous maelstrom.
Weekend Open Bar: sit down. be humble.
I am of the opinion that posting a Weekend Open Bar belatedly is a losing gesture, if a gesture at all. If it don’t hit Friday evening, it might as well not hit. But hey, what can you do. Last night I was besieged by PLAYAWF HAWKEY, and blessed with the opportunity to spend time with Rendar and Bateman.
So like, you know.
When the stars align and the three founders of OL hangout all at the same time (an occurrence one can hope happens more often, but an occurrence complicated by busy lives and us upon our own journeys in the omni-multi-verses), you better take goddamn advantage of it.
Weekend Open Bar: as tasty as you let it be
It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby!
That can only mean, well, an assortment of things for yours truly. Overeating. Watching wrestling. Sleeping late. Continuing to overeat. Playing video games. Watching playoff hockey. All sorts, oh, oh, all sorts of glorious, hedonistic, self-indulgent, wildly self-masturbatory excessivism.
But! It’s the Weekend! Some come, fellow garbage lurkers. Come and spend time here in the Weekend Open Bar.
Weekend Open Bar: The Groove Salve on the Brain Boil
My desired Existential-Aesthetic is mid-to-late-1980s Jean-Claude Van Damme movies.
There is such a manic, loosely-tethered lunacy to his movies that more or less perfectly captures the reciprocal nature of It, itself. The meaning in his films are kind of missing, maybe there, sort of apparent, but always haunting you as you dare to ascertain It. Yet, despite the non-sensical, godless, utterly conflicting messages of his movies, that still manage to have fun and revel in doing so.
And yeah, I guess, that’s sort of how I want to approach life, to approach It. It’s a godless, non-sensical world, with no apparent plot or overriding structure. But, despite that, I’m going to cobble together my own absurdist meaning, and have fun doing so.
And I hope you’ll join me, this weekend, at the Open Bar, in celebrating our own non-sensical, absurd existences together. Come, come, come into the bar. Share what you’re up to. The movies you’re watching, the liquid you’re imbibing, the books you’re reading. Anything and Everything always, so long as it adheres to this place’s sole rule: goddamn it, you’ve got to be kind.
Weekend Open Bar: Passionfruit
Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend. Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend Open Bar! Oh, fuck! My wife told me I only have ten minutes to Open the Bar. And, and, and, you know. Between fiddling with the volume control on my speakers, messaging a couple of friends, and, you know. Do you know? ‘Cause I don’t. Where the fuck is the time going? Oh, fuck! Time, it bleeds, life it bleeds, the universe it slowly, slowly bleeds out. Us, it, none of us truly conscious of it! Stay focused though, man! There ain’t time for your usual existential blatherings.
This is Weekend Open Bar!
The cure-all, catch-all weekly column at the end of the work week! Where I, your Captain and Local Garbage Lord, implore you to come and hang out! Share what you’re eating, watching, watching while eating, playing, et cetera. So on. So forth.
Get high, get drunk, get hard, get soft, whatever, whatever, whatever! It’s all good here. So long as you don your most welcoming and affable of affectations and share what you’re up to this weekend. Shoot the shit, if you will.
This is Weekend Open Bar!
Weekend Open Bar: Live From The Post-Apocalyparadise!
I initially had a really dour headline and gif to kick off this weekend’s Open Bar. The title was “It’s Better If You Don’t”, which really was a phrase which didn’t mean anything to me. The gif was of an insomnia-riddled Jack from Fight Club blinking at the endless stuffing of the info-tube into his mind-gullet.
My wife’s been away for like fifteen days. My job is stressful and tenuous. The skies are gray and bleeding moisture. Just not feeling It today, you know?
But, hey, man. What the fuck, right? Why wallow?
Weekend Open Bar: Make A Wish (God Isn’t Listening)
Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.
Can minimize the amount of time I’m stuffed into these ever-tightening pants, and maximize the amount of time I’m working towards further corpulence. It’s a merry sequence, a happied romance. I hope, oh I hope to do it with you folks. Here at the Weekend Open Bar. The weekly weekend invitation, nay, the weekly weekend invocation of the citizens of Space-Ship Omega. To gather around the digi-hearth and spend their weekend together. Sharing what we’re eating, sharing what we’re drinking, sharing what we’re reading. Sharing anything and everything! Drunken tales of anal gapes around Slurpee dispensers. Sober tales of contemplating. Anything and everything.
Good god damn, it’s the Weekend. Good god damn, I’m glad.
Weekend Open Bar: The Last Weekend In America
Last Friday evening my family and I gathered for a bit of delicious ass (and if you’re confused, ass is delicious) Mexican food to celebrate my birthday. As my brother left, he told us all to “enjoy the last two weekends in America” — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement. That leaves us, friends, on the precipice of the Last Weekend In America — a resonant, if not hyperbolic statement.
In a country that seems to be unspooling (on both sides of the political spectrum, mind you, I choose no side in this fusillade of suck), what is there to do?
Why, spend some time with you folks at the Weekend Open Bar.
Gather round, folks. The Vampires at the Throat at here, have been here. But as they drink from us, let us drink together. There is Nowhere to go, so let’s go to Nowhere together.
Weekend Open Bar: Rocket Fuel & Rockin’ Fools
It’s the Weekend! Open Bar! Fuck, I know I’m late. Last night was a birthday dinner with family, rolled immediately into five hours of wrestling with Bateman. Oh! Lucha Underground. Oh! Wrestle Kingdom 11. Truthfully? I squeezed in a couple hours of Final Fantasy XV between the former ending and the latter beginning. Oh! No matter, no matter.
