#May2020
Weekend Open Bar: Diarrhea Death Race 2000!
Every weekend, my friends. I’m living the motherfucking Diarrhea Death Race 2000! Nothing compliments five-straight days of clean eating like a 48-hour bender of insane caloric bombardment. And every weekend, there’s at least one point, where I have to sprint full-speed into the bathroom before my blow ass all over my boxer briefs. Doesn’t matter if I’m about to fuck, it doesn’t matter if I’m working out, and it doesn’t matter if I’m playing Final Fantasy VII. The moment grips me. The bowels quiver. And like that, I’m off to the races.
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Monday Morning Commute: (Please Stay Off The) Streets Of Rage
You fuckin’ want one? Then meet me in the streets, brother! It’s pretty easy to find me. Follow the smell of sweaty gym balls (who fucking showers these days) until you see a goddamn calamity with a fierce mustache. Oh, you’re telling me you can’t go out into the streets? Because of a responsible respect for the quarantines across the globe? Well, count yourself lucky! ‘Cause I respect that. Instead, how about you hang the fuck out with me here at Monday Morning Commute.
In lieu of a fucking tilly, we can shoot the shit. Share what we’re delving into this week, in order to stave off boredom. Discuss what we’re smashing open across our synapses, in order to prevent the ever present sense of doom from fully consuming us.
I’ll go first, cause I started this dance. But, after you’re done checking out what I’m up to, I demand that you swing back.
It’s only fair!
Weekend Open Bar: That Boy Is Trouble
Great Delicious Fuck! It feels like I just completely shazam’d my ass through the work week! Somehow, I’ve come out the other side with stunning alacrity. And now it’s the freakin’ Weekend, baby! Feels good. Feels so damn good, if I’m being honest. Every week of the remaining semester is going to be a white-knuckle, gripping-the-edge-of-the-clip type ride right up until May 12. But, by god, I’m doing it. Step by step and all that happy horseshit.
Enough about me, though. How are you doing, fellow members of the Space-Ship Omega?
Monday Morning Commute: Go Beyond The Impossible!
Oh lord, here it we go again! Another installment of MMC during this motherfucking Groundhog’s Day-ass type fucking rolling nightmare! Hey! I suppose you can see how I’m doing during all this, eh? Seriously though, ups and downs. Ins and outs. Getting stoned and sulking, getting high and smiling. The semester is always a grind during this time of the year, and the Pandemic Multiplier has me flat-out exhausted. But, we must kick reason to the curb! And go beyond the impossible. It’s what Kamina would want, and we must not let Kamina down.
The mornings are the worst, though. As the waves of reality break upon my fractured psyche, and I realize that once again we’re in this bitch. As the day pushes forth, though, I find my mood lightening. The rituals take hold, the caffeine grips my nervous system, and I redouble my efforts to not eat my weight in pizza, keep up a workout routine, and get through the workday.
Weekend Open Bar: Dusk Sets On Another Grind (For Me)
It’s the end of another work week for me, my friends. I’m privileged enough to be able to work from home, and I’m definitely not on the front lines of this pandemic. That said, holy fucking shit. I mean, I’m fucking exhausted. I thought I was going to dread the Spring semester ending. However, that fucking Nuclear Take has been revised. Not only is the Typical End of Semester Fatigue hitting, but it’s stacking with COVID-19 Anxiety and Figuring Out How To Teach From Home. This fucking trifecta?
It has me falling to my goddamn knees today and thanking my Lord and Savior JCVD for a temporary respite.
Monday Morning Commute: and we’re all very tired
Goddamn, if I don’t feel like MacReady these days. Like, my body may very well lay in bed for eight hours every night. Maybe more! But, fuck me sideways. Whatever I’m engaging in certainly isn’t restful sleep. Probably getting in some good core workouts though, whilst I slumber. Motherfucking tossing! Motherfucking turning! Just fucking tired, man. And while I can wear my faithful baseball cap to cover my bedhead, I can’t hide these bags under my eyes from coworkers and students.
Eh, fuck it! It’s a pandemic. If bags under my eyes are the greatest of my physical concerns, I’ll jot myself down as blessed.
Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute! You know the motherfucking drill! I’ll share what I’m partaking in, to distract and titillate myself. Then, you’ll join me in the comments. Sharing your own distractions, distinctions, and diatribes.
Tetsuya Nomura says ‘Final Fantasy 7’ remake progress is progressing well. But like, what’s his fucking basis for comparison?
When Tetsuya Nomura says that the Final Fantasy 7 remake is progressing well, I gotta fucking ask. Compared to what? Broken-ass Final Fantasy XV that came out half-cooked after a fucking decade? Kingdom Hearts III, which has been in development since 1992? Or like, you know, compared to a game being made by a fucking functioning development studio? I’m going to go ahead and say compared to the fucking former at this point.
