Oh! I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, huh? Oh, you didn’t? Just assumed I was in some sort of depressive, hermetic state? And that I’d emerge eventually, temporarily recharged? Well, fuck. You know me! Anyways, hey! Great to be here. Great to see you. Your teeth look wonderful, and your genitals look plump. Fantastic, fantastic! Anyways, I won’t belabor you much longer with this viciously verbose opening. Instead, I’ll pivot to the purpose of this here post, Monday Morning Commute!

To tell you what I’m enjoying lately. Be it active enjoyments, or portents of fun things on the horizon this week.

Then, per usual, I hope you’ll share your own warm-and-fuzzies in the comments section.

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Hey! It’s Monday Morning Commute, on a Tuesday! Again! Man, truthfully? There ain’t much going on in my life right now. Just the humming doldrums of the post-Holiday, pre-Spring existence here in the Northeast. It’s cold! That’s whack. It’s getting lighter out earlier and earlier! That’s dope.

And the forthcoming notables?

They’re the various spectacles and testicles-tickling activities helping me make it through the ashen week.

I hope you’ll join me in the comments section, and let me know what you’re looking forward to this week. To be honest, I’m in a bit of a rut. So, I could use anything you can suggest. Hit me. Hit me!

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Man, I don’t want Broad City to end. But, don’t it all end? Like, everything? Alas.

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Man. The classic Comedy Central shows that I love have been slowly dying off. Which, I suppose, is life as a media consumer. Or, life in general. Workaholics, Review, Nathan For You, Kroll Show, and next, Broad City. I get it, though. You don’t want to overstay your welcome, but the absence will be felt.

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Friends! Friends. I’m at a level of fatigue that I do not usually reach. Oh, the ethers from beyond beckon me towards slumber. Like not eternal slumber, don’t get me wrong. More like, oh, I don’t know. Eating six Pop Tarts, drowning my esophagus in ice cream, and drifting off. Drifting off where? Ideally to the Astral Plane for a good twelve or so hours. Just ripping ass, snoring, and healing my weakened mind-shafts.

The good news?

The good news is that I am of that privileged sort that has the weekends off.

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It’s Monday Morning Commute, comrades! A day late, but what can you do.

Yesterday was one of those days where the laptop didn’t leave the book bag upon my return to the Mother-Ship. But, I’m here now! Ready to give you the rundown of what I’m looking forward to this week! Ready to eagerly anticipate your own happenings in the comments section.

It’s Monday Morning Commute, comrades! A day late, but what can you do.

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It’s been four weeks, but goddamn, I’m back. Computer, uh, healed. Its technological malfunctions sated by the astralGeniuses and of course the corporealCurrencies paid forth to said astralGeniuses. I, I can’t complain about the corporealCurrencies spent or the fact that the astralGeniuses really didn’t live up to their name. ‘Cause finally I have a fucking computer again. The Engines of Depravity that power the Space-Ship Omega and this Garbage Lord are whirring up to full strength, and we’re just going to fucking resume operations.

I’ve missed you fucks.

This is Monday Morning Commute. The weekly wank-off over the arts&farts that are serving to propel us through a given week. You know, the shit we’re looking forward to, enjoying, anticipating, worshipping, that serve as a balm on the existential burns of existence.

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Oh come all ye degenerates, the Bar is Open. It’s the Weekend. Let us gather around the slime-soaked tavern fire, spitting whimsy and regret. Spitting about what we’re doing this weekend. Be it a movie we’re going to see, a meal we’re going to eat, a transdimensional omnisexual Manta-Beast we’re going to bang.

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Welcome to Monday Morning Commute, scum-lords. It’s a fairly nondescript week for me. Nothing really coming up. Maybe seeing a flick with the BetterHalf. Listening to TheMusic. Spending time in VideoGameWorld. Some weeks the world pops, with a litany of excitement awaiting me. Some weeks the world drags, offering up nothing special in the way of respite from the grind.

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