It’s the freakin’ weekend, baby! It’s Weekend Open Bar, baby! At least for me. Hitting a bit early, too. Goddamn first significant snow storm of the year is currently rampaging its way through the guts of Massachusetts’ coast, and yet! And yet! My fucking university didn’t cancel class. All the schools-universities-establishments-basement latex fuck dungeons are closed for the day! But not mine. Not even though it’s a fucking commuter school. So I called an audible and canceled my class, myself.

Ain’t no way I’m taking my 2007 Civic with its bald ass tires and death-wish (it has told me after three years of me sneezing on it, farting in, and vaguely rubbing my penis in traffic while driving in it, that it longs for oblivion) onto these terrible roads.

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This is, as always, Weekend Open Bar. The objective is, as always, to create a holistic HorrorDump at the Internet where like-minded folk can gather. Once gathered we will, as always, shoot the shit about what we’re doing this weekend. You know, flap our flabby lips. Pointedly pontificate about nothing–something. Everything and anything goes, as always, so long as its in a positive spirit.

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The Weekend Open Bar. The old haunt of the Omegaverse’s New Scum. Where every weekend we can pry off our masks, slip off our gloves, and commune for a couple of days. We gather, away from the back-breaking SpiceMines, the porcelain shit thrones that must be shined, from the glue factory and the Dagobah Diners. We gather here.

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It’s the fucking weekend, baby. Kick open the doors to the Bar. Grab your favorite drink. Just reach behind the counter, and throw it down your esophagus-pipes. I won’t charge ya. Let the burn wash over you. And then saddle up next to me. This is Weekend Open Bar, the gathering at the InternetWateringHole where those willing join me in camaraderie.

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Ah yeah, you did it, buddy! You made it through the first week of the new year. All them holidays are over with, and so your laissez faire attitude can no longer be blamed on festivities. Instead you’re going to need to bury the truth deep down — you’re tired of your unrewarding job in the SpiceMines, and the nominal-at-best pay bumps and feigned annual recognition by the CzarLords that run your job from DigiSpace.

It’s depressing, but you’re not alone. For one, it’s the weekend. For two, this is Weekend Open Bar! A watering hole buried deep in the swollen cyst in the synapses of the CyberRot of the Universe’s Grey Matter. All of us are here! Waiting for you!

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I’m not going to lie. I completely forgot that today was Friday. I’m all, all, all turned around this week. Losing track of holidays, teeth, children, teeth, what day of the week it is, and where in the space-time continuum I’m currently located. So apologies!, for getting this Weekend’s Open Bar up a bit late. For some reason I thought tomorrow was Friday? And that my teeth went in the pot roast? But that’s neither here nor there. I’m turned around, primarily, because today is goddamn Christmas. And a good goddamn hello to many people’s good goddamn savior, the goddamn Son of The OMNIVERSE! Welcome Jimmy Crimbus! Of Betelgeuse!

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This is Weekend Open Bar. Where we get together and share what we are up to during a given weekend. What we are going to watch, eat, play, contemplate. Here, let me share.

I have felt like a Man Unmoored this year. Not Billy Pilgrim levels, but close. Ian Omega has come unstuck in Existence. I am a man of routine, I find comfort in it. Every day I stop at the same convenience store on the way to work. I buy the same exact thing. Every weekend morning I take the same car ride, before going to the gym. I enjoy doing the same exact thing every Saturday with Bateman. I like familiarity. I like the banal. I am a boring man, but it works for me.

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We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be, friends. But let me tell you, I’m not futzing pretending to be excited for this Weekend. I am bonafide stoked it’s Friday. What a goddamn week. Coming back to campus and attempting to teach classes after Thanksgiving Break is like attempting to stand in the fifth round of a fight against in-his-prime Anderson Silva.

For the students, and myself.

Eyes glazed. Lethargic. The world spinning. Not really sure how we’ve gotten this far and not sure how we’re going to make it to the final bell.

After today, I got one more week of classes to go. However, the idea of that one last week stresses me the futz out. But I’ve got the weekend. And so we have the Weekend Open Bar. Pull up a stool, friends. Let us hang out for the next two days. Share what we’re going to do be doing during this liminal state – both after and before grinding away our existence.

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It’s the Weekend, baby! That means that the labor union-earned two day siesta is kicking off for the lot of us lucky to not have that privilege extracted by the PowersThatBe that RunOurJobs. #PoliticalPosturing #IActuallyStandForNothingTho. Anyways! That can only mean one thing around here! Jerking off and wearing sweatpants all day, while hoping our spouses don’t hear our tears!

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Man, it’s the Weekend. And not a moment too soon. Just a tiring week. Or more specifically, a week filled with duties that weren’t Fallout 4. So many duties that weren’t Fallout 4. However, the Weekend has arrived, I’m raising the shutters on the Open Bar, and my reunion with Bethesda’s Latest Baby is looming. I’m up to a bunch of other stuff this weekend, too. You know, grading papers, playing Mega Man X with Bateman, maybe watching the latest Ronda Rousey fight. Some Eating Too Much. Some Football. And most importantly! Hanging out with you here at the Weekend Open Bar.

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