Hello, salutations, and greetings, fellow Trash Lords. Scions of the Elder Garbage. It’s I, your fearless dumpster pile, Caffeine Powered. Coming to you from a shitty, broken down computer at the public university at which I theoretically work. I say theoretically since due to bureaucracy and the lack of an actual budget for the Fall Semester (seriously), I haven’t gotten paid since August. Eh, whatever, whatever.

I come to you here, because as I’ve commented upon in other posts, my goddamn personal computing machine is about to enter its own fourth week of in-action.

But, hey. I got time before class, so I figured I would throw some sort of line of communication into the EchoChamber.

For perhaps the first and only time, it’s Thursday Whatever The Fuck! My angered, frantic Thursday edition of Monday Morning Commute.

I miss ya’ll, I miss blogging for ya’ll (all three of you), so here’s what I’m up to this week. You know, when I’m not embracing a desiccated bank account and a general malaise.

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Got my sweatpants on. Got dinner in my guts. Got Monday Night RAW on the television. Life is good. Life is good. Typing out Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share what we’re looking forward to during a week. The movies that we wanna watch, maybe the albums that are hitting our ear drums, the comic books that are rocking our fanboy balls.

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It’s Weekend Open Bar! Let’s kick this off. With alacrity! The weekly column where the reckless degenerates and-or savory, wonderful souls of Space-Ship Omega gather. Holding hands, holding eye contact, we discuss with vim and vigor our Weekend Plans.

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Well. The next Far Cry is going to the Ice Age. Which, honestly, is sort of fine with me. I’ve always fucked with bows hardest in this franchise.

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