It’s the Weekend, man. Which means the Bar is Open! I’m feeling particularly relaxed this weekend. Most of this relaxation is due in part to the momentary lull in the Maelstrom that is Home Ownership. Purchase and Sale: signed. House appraisal by the bank: done. Now it’s merely a thousand or so documents to be faxed by us to the Corporate Overlords, and awaiting the official closing. Additionally, my summer class is winding down. Just one more week, and ain’t no teaching taking place during it (not my choice, but I will not complain about not having to lesson plan until September). So life is good. Relaxed, I dare say. So yeah, weekend is lining up to be a enjoyable: some Lucha Underground, some DVR purging, some time with Bae. Pizza, obviously.

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The Purchase & Sale is signed, folks. SAM-OMEGA and I are getting really, really close to thirty years of DEBT SLAVERY. And I’ll level with you: I could not be more excited. The idea of my own study, replete with fluid-splashed surroundings and toy shelves makes me excited. A giant ass backyard for a mutt-ass dog makes me excited. No longer living under Rock-Eating Typical Bostonians who scream wildly at the Prole-O-Vision while I’m trying to lesson plan for the next days’s class makes me excited. Now all that is left (and granted, this is a big “all that is left”) is the appraisal and the bank concretely agreeing to lend us, you know. Hundreds of thousands (*vomitvomitvomit*) of dollars. So come. Celebrate with me, here at Weekend Open Bar.

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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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Welcome to Monday Morning Commute, friends. It’s pretty much the end of the day here on the Eastern Coast of the Empire, but hey. I’m but one FictionMan, attempting to cobble together the disparate entities of the Space-Ship into one meandering husk. So forgive me! And I have to cop to you. A variety of Really Privileged Problems have me a bit worn down, today. Oh, I got married. Boohoo. Oh, I was lucky enough to come back and have to start my job I have immediately. Wah wah. Oh, I’m buying a house and all that financial expenditure is sort of terrifying. Cry more. I get it.

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Oh dip! I’m seriously fucking busy today! But I’ve strapped a rocket to my well-oiled taint (to prevent burn), said my prayers to the Gods, Old and New, and I’m flying past the Space-Ship to ignite the Weekend Open Bar! The weekly two-day siesta-spanning column at the End of Good Taste and the Internet! Come in here, hammered! Come in here, bored! Come in here, well-feed and looking for conversation. The name of the game is sharing your weekend delights with likeminded, depraved individuals (hi!). Share plans, thoughts, meals, movies, games, gabbing. Anything goes!

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What’s next?! What’s next?! It’s the fucking Weekend! Kick open the doors to the Bar! Get the tap flowing! Gather around and share what you’re up to this these next two days! Be it seeing Age of Ultron. Or hunting aliens in Grand Theft Auto V. Share gifs, share stories. Share empirical evidence that somehow we survived the snow and that the color green still exists.

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