#August2020
Monday Morning Commute: Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine! A little Type O Negative across your tits to get this column started! Seriously though, we’re in the glorious days of the summer. The faint hint of upcoming death in the air. Deeper dusks. A cool summer breeze wafting in through the windows at night. Windows which we can finally open up, at least around here. It’s pleasant, pleasant as fuck. In fact, mid-August kicks off my favorite time of the year here in the Northeast portion of the Empire.
How are you folks doing, this August 18th? I hope you’re hanging in there. ‘Cause it ain’t easy right now, I imagine for any of us.
So, let’s huddle together, motherfuckers! Let’s share what indulgences we’re indulging in across this indolent portion of the year! What the fuck you reading? What the fuck you listening to? Playing anything dope? Watching anything excellent? Hit my ass up in the comments!
That is, after I first bombard your butt holes with my own bombastic choices!
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Weekend Open Bar: Dusk, Of A Summer Evening
We’re getting deep into summer now, friends. With such a progression brings deeper, more rewarding dusk. However, it also brings with it shorter days, longer shadows, and hints at a Fall which promises to be seemingly chaotic at best. But as I said Monday, in the end we’re promised nothing. Nothing! Fucking nothing at all. Which means I might as well enjoy the beautiful dusks and the welcoming evenings while I can, no? Who knows what next week will bring for me. Really, for all of us. Why sweat it? And if we’re not sweating next week, let us definitely not begin to contemplate whatever the fuck is about to happen this winter.
Instead, let’s fucking hang out this weekend! Balls out in the air. Toes in the existential pool. Let’s fucking hang out, here at the Open Bar!
Monday Morning Commute: Nothing Promised.
Hey, friends! Apologies for the tardiness! Mea culpa, mea dumb ass. I think I butchered the Latin there, but who knows. It’s a fucking dead language. Who is going to stop me? Motherfuckers buried under the rubble of Mount Vesuvius? Some nerd Latin scholar at University? Step-up bitches, and face a Superkick Party. Anyways, I’m genuinely sorry I’m dropping this MMC on a Tuesday.
In case you’re wondering why? Man, I’m fucking fighting it this week! Fighting what? Just a general sense of existential malaise. A sexier way of describing my various chemical imbalances compounded by the flat-out Dumpster Fire that is life in the United States Just the act of sitting down and compiling words in a WordPress document seems pretty overwhelming. But, I’m here motherfuckers! Sometimes the act of just pushing through is helpful. You know? Maybe you know.
Anyways. Any-fucking-hoo, here we have Monday Morning Commute! Truth be told I’m digging a lot of shit these days, and these arts & farts are genuinely helping me through the week. So, I’ll drop them below, and I hope you’ll share your own collection of happenings and happiness-inducing activities in the comments.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Weekend Open Bar: Re-Animating The Relaxation
I have just enough to do during this summer quasi-break to be stoked for the weekends. Ya know? Just enough stress to compel me to look forward to Friday evening. Plus, you know. It’s an opportunity to hang with my wife, and my husband, and eat a truckload of preposterously unhealthy food. As well, I get to spend some time with you motherfuckers. Here, at the Weekend Open Bar! The one-stop shop for buffoonery and camaraderie every weekend.
It’s shaping up to be a good weekend for me. Weather setting the tone. The heat wave’s finally breaking here, and good god, I can open my windows. Get some of that late-summer air wafting in. Reminding me that the descent into Autumn has thankfully begun, while being warm enough to not nip out. I must confess, it’s one of my favorite times of the year. I hope you’re appreciating it as much as me! If not, well, I hope you’re at least tolerating it.
Monday Morning Commute: A Legacy of Ghosts
Hey, friends! I know, Monday Morning Commute is a day late! But as my wife and I always say around that time of the month, “better late than not at all”, right? Here we are! Me kicking shit off crass as hell, which I suppose is par for my idiotic, juvenile course. How are you friends? Are you surviving the never ending Maelstrom of Cruelty and Resignation that is America in 2020? I hope so, dudes. I hope so. It ain’t easy, though! I’m feeling it lately.
From the privileged problems like not being able to go out to eat, to the more resonant ones like worrying about my job. My anxiety runs the whole gauntlet! Meanwhile, I suppose I’m just struggling with the loss of normalcy. I had a dream over the weekend that it was my first day back in the classroom after this whole son of a bitch runs its course. You know, to the extent that it ever will. COVID-19 is here forever in some form, baby! ‘Cause we all fucked up. But, man. That dream felt fucking good. I miss it, I genuinely do, the motherfucking classroom. My ass snapped awake, and there was just this melancholic-ass feeling in my guts.
I admit if my biggest sadness is not being able to teach in a classroom, I’m doing fucking well. Great, even. That said, it does register like a nut-punch to the existential nards that I’ll be teaching from home all Fall. Spring too, probably.
Anyways, enough caterwauling from this blubbering bitch. This is Monday Morning Commute! As probably all four of you know. Which means I’m about to give you a rundown of what I’m enjoying this week, what I’m looking forward to this week, and all of that other happy horseshit. Per usual, I hope you’ll join me in the comments. Ain’t gonna blame ya if you don’t, though!
Weekend Open Bar: The Return of (Blood)Sports!
Oh golly gee, friends! I gotta confess, I’m hammer this out right after writing this week’s comic books column! Which means my already bedraggled, fucking pathetic attention span is deep-fried! Really just absolutely sent to the fucking moon! But, if I don’t turn on the lights, tap the keg, and unlock the door, who will? Fucking no one! And fuck, dude! I want to hang out with you pig-sniffers, which means I really have no choice.
Thus, I’m gonna keep this son of a bitch short, sweet, and poorly edited. Let’s dance the Dance of Relaxation together this weekend, my friend! Tell me, you playing anything gripping? You eating anything gripping? You gripping anything exciting? Really just sort of tugging back and forth? I’m interested in all the details, the nitty-gritty. Let me be your confidant,. no one else will know. Save for, you know, anyone and everyone who comes across this column.
Weekend Open Bar: Stylin’ & Profilin’
Woo! It’s motherfucking vacation for me, baby! Well, almost. My summer class has concluded, which means that all I got across the next six weeks is the occasional work at the Writing Center. Woo! Woo! Drink in the musk of my euphoria, which will slowly burn off by early evening. I mean, I had to get up at 6:30 this morning. But, fuck it! Woo! Woo! Woo! It’s all good in this realm, baby! And, I hope you motherfuckers are ready to hang out this weekend!
Let’s pop on our robes, pop off our pants, and get to it, fellas! Stylin’! Profilin’! What are you beautiful fucks up to this weekend? Playing anything dope? Reading anything worthwhile? BBQing? It’s the time of times during the week when we all hang.
Monday Morning Commute: It Ain’t Palm Springs, But It’ll Do
What’s up, you grease-covered, slickened pieces of shit?! Or, rather that’s how I imagine your body. ‘Cause like most people, I can only imagine others bound by my own circumstances. You see, it’s hot as fuck out here in the Northeast. And that’s how I would describe myself. Greasy. Slick. Horny for air conditioning and ass. Hungry for cool breezes and caloric depravity. And most importantly? Feeling half-decent. With the semester winding down, I can feel my mind-anus unclenching. I’ve found myself sleeping a bit more deeply, and awakening a bit more carefree.
All of this explains why I’m actually writing an MMC on a Monday evening! Ha! Wowzers! Take a carrot, shine it with petroleum jelly, and stick it in my ass! Watch as I scream in delight! Cover the eyes of small children and other innocent passersby!
Anyways, what the fuck, let’s do this shit!
Here’s the detritus swirling up against my life-hole this week, tempting me, plugging me, encouraging me. I hope you’ll join me in the comments!
Weekend Open Bar: It’s Nudie Magazine Day!
It’s nudie magazine day, friends! Okay, not really. But, the fucking infectious refrain from Billy Madison is what I swing as I’m coming down the stairs every Friday. It’s such a pure, tits-powered jingle that it’s stuck with me throughout the years. And, I can’t think of any better way to kick-off the weekend! Well, other than hanging with you motherfuckers! Ha! How is that for a goddamn segue? God-Tier. Really, just pure writing prowess. Okay, okay. I know I’m a prose-based slob, but let me have this shit!
Anyways, let’s spend some time together this weekend, good friends! Right here in the Open Bar. And I must remind ya’ll beautiful pricks, we ain’t streaming this Saturday. Just one Saturday! Just this Saturday. A little break from our streaming madness. So, that means this is the only venue for chatting with me about nipple hairs. Or whether or not Bags using the phrase “genitals’ like a sociopath is weird (it is). Neither of those topics interest you?
A) What the fuck.
B) No worries!
‘Ghost of Tsushima’ Trailer: PS4’s samurai epic drops Summer 2020!
Goddamn, fuck! Feels like we’ve been waiting for Ghost of Tsushima. But folks, we now have a date! The motherfucker is dropping next summer! And! We got a sexy new trailer.
