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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We’re celebrating Fourth of July weekend here in the Empire. That means the usual things, which have been enumerated some six or seven times here aboard the Space-Ship. Hormone-soaked beef. Testosterone-fueled chants of questionable supremacy. And other cynical shit. But it also means a great reason to gather ’round with your loved ones, throw back a few Adult Sodas, smoke some Shire Green, and have a good time. Not just your tangi-friends, either! But us, too. You know! Your favorite Monsters at the End of the Internet. So join us! At the Weekend Open Bar.

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I’m anything but an Alpha Male. In fact, SAM-OMEGA is definitely the Matriarch of our officially unified relationship. An Alpha Female, who is willing to punch down doors, and vaporize the Walls of Impossibility to get what she wants for her family and herself. This is perfectly okay to me. Every Batman (her) needs their trusty Robin (this dickhead). And so I’m looking forward to wasting the weekend away with her before she departs on Sunday for Alpha Female Business Trip #Something of the year. What are you up to the next couple of days? This is Weekend Open Bar, the weekly post where we share what we’re up to on our (hopeful) Siesta from the Grind.

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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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True story: last night the Wife and I went out to eat with an former professor of ours. I had two beers. Was completely rocked because I never drink. Got home. Ate three bagels while lå down on the coach and watching NHL Tonight. And then fell asleep. Which is to say, that’s why I haven’t opened the fucking bar yet! But here it is! Weekend Open Bar. The gathering point for the Degenerates that roam the halls of the Space-Ship Omega. Come one, come all! Hang out. Share what you’re up to this weekend. Ridicule me for being a lightweight when it comes to adult sodas! Commiserate with me about the fact that there is eighty-five hours of snowfall hitting New England.

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As you may or may not know, it’s the fucking Snowpocalypse here on the Northeastern Seaboard of the Empire. We ain’t fucking Commuting Anywhere! It’s the End Times! That’s what the media says! No worries. No sweat. I have serious provisions: four twelve-packs of Diet Dews. Five pounds of Laffy Taffy. A family-sized box of Chez-Its. And I have serious amounts of time on my hands, too. Multiple feet of snow coming in. Multiple miles-per-hour of serious wind. Probably ain’t going to teach again until Friday. So this is what I’m filling my week with. Both during the Snowpocalypse and after we dig out.

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