Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!

What’s the deal with the MMC, you ask? Well, this is the weekly feature that sees me vomitin’ a bit of short prose at you, and then apologizin’ by way of showin’ off the worthwhile entertainment I’ll be checkin’ out throughout the week.

Then, if you’re not totally repulsed, you hit up the comments section and tell us about the movies, TV programs, video juegos, rap songs, snacks, and other delectables you’ll be chompin’ on so as to make the workweek a bit more bearable.

Yes, you’re right — it is sorta like show-and-tell for Internet Maniacs. Let’s boogie, y’bastards!

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Welcome to Doldrums City, comrades. Population: Me (at the very least). I’m sick. I’m tired. The Earth is melting, our government is run by lily livered cretins and monsters. Football is over. The sky is ash. I’m stick. I’m tired. All I want to do is sleep, masturbate wildly while screaming at the ceiling fan, and eat. Eat, and eat, and eat, and eat. Rinse. Repeat.

The columns must flow, though. The Commute must be Monday Morning’d. So here we are. So here we are.

This is MondayMorningCommute by way of TuesdayAfternoon.

Being MMC BYO TA, the task at hand is simple. I share what I’m looking forward to this week. What I’m hoping will rocket me out of Doldrums City, comrades. Then you share your own anticipatory happenings in the comments section.

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I don’t watch Game of Thrones, but I dig the fuck out of this.

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Close your eyes. Take a breath. It’s going to be okay.

It doesn’t matter if you’re out of gas money or your car’s exploded or you’re in too much pain to get off the couch. `Cause that’s not what real traveling’s about. In any of those circumstances, you can still close your eyes and tune out. And right when you think all you’re perceiving is the Great Nothing, you’re going to realize that you’ve fallen into the Wonderful Everything.

I want you to mind-travel the universe.

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Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! I’m going to highlight some of the ways I’ll be staving off existential crises and reinstalling hope. After you see what I’m doing, hit up the comments section and share your own prospective week-activities.

C’mon, don’t be a lamebrain!

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We gotta get the ventilation system working here on the Space-Ship Omega. Okay. I know that. My phlegm-farts have been stinking up my cabin, floating through the grates, and now your milk steaks taste like ass soup. Apologies. In the meantime, let’s all indulge in some Monday Morning Commute. The one-stop shop for sharing all the easy, breezy, beautiful things you’re looking forward to this week. Just don’t list “my milk steak not tasting like your rectal leakage” as something to be anticipated. Please. I get it. Okay.

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Ahoy, denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. Whether you’re a regular spending time in your own cabin on the Ship, or merely a smuggler stopping by for a refueling and some cheap protoplasmic omnisexual alien butt-poon before leaving, you’re all wonderful in my book. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where all of us wayward organic meat-sacks share the various things we’re looking forward to on a given week. Or thinking about. Or anticipating. Or dreading.

Slide on up to the shit-smeared cantina bar, and knock back some synthetic oat sodas. Imma be quick with my own list though. It’s the first day back at the Helium Mining Factory on Asteroid X  and all the fumes got me dizzy. Rest assured you’ll find me lurking in the comments section though, pants-down, smile-applied.

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Shazam! This is Monday Morning Commute. And I am Caffeine Powered, the faithful Steward of Space-Ship Omega. Much like I said almost verbatim last year at this time, I am a man under pop culture duress. With E3 popping off, I got my hands seriously full. So forgive me if I work my way through this column with stunning brevity this week. Oh shit! The point of this column? For you and me to share the various things we’re looking forward during the next seven days. Let’s fucking jam.

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Welcome to Monday Morning Commute, fellow swine! Oh shit, you didn’t mean to stop here? Then carry on! You’re not swine. You’re just useless! Ha! Ingest my Hate-Gravy! Ah fuck, rambling again. Anyways – yeah – MMC. The column where we share the various things we’re looking forward to/enjoying/masturbating at/dreading/thinking about during a given week. Simple? Right? First you glance at my insipid list, then you share your own tasty morsels.

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[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

I want you to consider the following premises, keepin’ an eye peeled for similarities.

When a West Philadelphia-born prince ascended his Californian throne, he sang a little ditty. That time when the boxer prepared to avenge his friend’s death and defend America’s honor? You bet your ass he was jammin’ to some butt-rock. And when the world was ushered into the era of Y2J, it was greeted by the dulcet tones of a computerized countdown and processed vocals.

The conclusion: theme songs kick ass.

Hell, if you think about your favorite movie, TV show, or video game, chances are that it features some sort of soundtrack. Moreover, it’s also a solid bet that there’re clear-as-day, identifiable-as-hell themes woven throughout said soundtrack. While you’re experiencing this bit of entertainment, themes amplify the emotion at hand, whether it happens to be jubilation or intrigue or suspense. So affective, in fact, are theme songs that hearing them out of context can still teleport our consciousnesses to the space-time junctions of entertainment-inebriation.

Fighting Sephiroth.
Being devoured by a Great White.
Swoonin’ over a man with a license to kill.

If you count yourself amongst the OL faithful, then some of your life’s most consequential moments have probably been accompanied by a soundtrack. As such, I encourage you to respond to one or both of this weekend’s OPEN BAR prompts:

[What is a theme song you dig?][What would you choose for your own theme song?]

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Every morning I take two pills so that I don’t die.

Most mornings, I whiz through the first twenty minutes of consciousness on zombie-autopilot, totally unaware of what I’m doing. I know there’s some sort of   routine at work, but I don’t actually think about it.

rub sleep out of eyes.stretch.take two pills so that I don’t die.pound yogurt.shower.brush teeth.dress myself.go to work.

By the time I’m cognizant of the surrounding world, my car is pulling into the parking lot. I get out of the driver’s seat, sigh, and then submit my soul for a work day’s worth of bondage.

But some mornings, because I’ve been interrupted in the middle of a REM cycle or an act of Providence has flown my way or the Omnidimensional Creator owes me a favor, I’m aware from the moment I awake. I take the time to think about what I’m doing, and the early-morning September mists amplify every emotion. Vanilla yogurt isn’t just sustenance, it’s an Earth-shattering flavor-quake. Brushing my teeth isn’t just a part of daily hygiene, it’s a rhythmic exercise. Taking two prescription pills isn’t just a health-choice, it’s a terrifying realization.

Every morning I take two pills so I don’t die. And when I think about it, I’m so fucking thankful to still be alive. My heart’s still pumping and my mouth’s still running, and I don’t want to waste this gift. So let’s take killer rips of black coffee, headbang to metal, and high-five one another as much as possible.

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Step right up, folks! This ‘ere is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, OL’s weekly feature in which I show you what I’ll be doing to survive until the weekend. After I run you through my entertainment gamut, you’re to hit up the comments section and show off your own articles of awesome.

It’s digital show-and-tell at its most abject.

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