It’s Monday! But fuck, who cares. You could grouse about that shit, or you can do what I did. Yeah, I did that. You know. Unleashed the soft-serve ice cream machine into the depths of my pants. Ran up to the first Authority Figure I could find on campus. Hugged him with a ferocity, velocity, and eagerness seldom seen. Embraced the cold, yet welcoming, explosion of soft serve ice cream that rocketed up out of my unbuttoned jean shorts. Hitting us both in the neck, face, tits, soul. Screamed “We just ice CREAMED all over each other. #YOLO #YOLO #BADPUNS”, not forgetting to say HASHTAG before all three.

You could do that.

Or. Or you could just come hang out in Monday Morning Commute. The collection of arts, farts, social engineering projects, cataclysmic poor decisions, and other things you’re looking forward to this week.

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The motherfuckin’ weekend! Raid the open bar! Stab a loved one and scream, “It’s just molecules! The Universe is pouring out of you, and it is lovely!” Or hug your Mom while cranking out a desperate, bowels-emptying fart. Murmuring into her ears, “You created this. Your egg is now this bowels-emptying pants-filling nightmare.” Or do something much more mundane!

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