Wowzers, it’s been a year. Wowzers, it’s been a week. I’m fucking drained, my dudes. Just straight-up, flat-out fucking fatigued. Thankfully, I got a couple days to convalesce before it’s right back to the Thresher. It’s autumn here, which means it’s dark early. It’s also climate change here, which means somehow it’s in the fucking 70s this weekend. Despite being deeply uncomfortable as to why it’s warm out, I’ll take the development.

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How’s it going, folks? Are you segueing into Corpulence Season well? You must prepare to fulfill your duty as a member of the Empire!

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

Hail, Hail, Hail!

Toe the line! Nay, stand in line! You must be checking out mentally while checking out virtually, physically! The form doesn’t matter, only the consumption! The filling and emptying of stomachs, shopping carts, bank accounts, guts, shelves, savings.

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

That’s a negative spin on the whole ordeal, isn’t it?

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My wife turns thirty this weekend, Saturday to be specific. It’s a weird sensation, knowing that she has shacked up with me for life, and been with me since she was literally twenty. Spent her golden years with a guaranteed Garbage Lord. It’s nice though, to chart our progress together, to check off life events together, and even more specifically to get high, eat cookies, and watch Workaholics together.

It’s nice, it’s quaint, it’s quiet.

I like spending time with her, and I like spending time with you folks, you denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. So let’s hang out at the Weekend Open Bar. Pass some marginal time within our comfortably marginal existences together, as we are lucky enough (or not lucky enough, the grape press of industry is whittling away our off-time) to have the next couple of days off.

So comrades, what are you doing this weekend? What are you watching? Eating? Reading? Thinking about? Anything and everything goes, so long as you adhere to the sign above the Tavern entrance: Thou Shalt Not Be A Douche.

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Hey! Oh. Oh, hey! It’s Weekend Open Bar! Pray tell, are you being a dedicated consumer? Buying those you love their trinkets, both asked for and unasked? Are you wearied from long lines, or did you abstain from corporeal-shopping in lieu of the gilded pipes of the Amazonian forms of commerce? Hey — man. If the Titanic is going down (and oh, are sinking), we might as well raid the gift shop. Hey man — if the Titanic is going down, we might as well all congregate at the (open) bar!

That’s bleak, that’s burnt, that’s bluster. I’m actually quite content right now! It’s warm here in my cabin on the Space-Ship Omega. I don’t want nothing other than to spend the weekend with friends and loved ones. You folks, included!

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The bar is open early, friends. It’s Thanksgiving Eve here on the eastern arm of the Empire. I’m blessed enough to have the rest of the week off. So why not let the Asgardian ale flow already? So why not let the Martian space spice be smoked already? I have no good reasons for why not to, I have no good explanations. All I know is that life is too short, too vicious for even the most blessed, to not seize upon moments of revelry with you and yours.

Weekend Open Bar on a Wednesday evening.

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Sweatpants, Diet Dew, a fire, a furry dog at my feet. Life ain’t bad, life ain’t bad generally. Going to keep this simple, on this simple evening. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where we share what we’re up to during a particular week. The new movie we want to see. A comic book dropping on Wednesday we can’t wait to read. Et cetera et cetera et cetera. Going to keep this simple, on this simple evening.

I’ll go first, you’ll follow in the comments section. Fair? Fair. Fair!

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Ah, yeah! It’s Thanksgiving Week! Which means the most glorious span of six weeks or so is kicking off! Holiday season! Days upon days of getting fat, fiddling with candy canes (interpret that as you will), getting fat, drinking with friends, getting fat, playing video games, and this year, seeing TheWarStars Movie over and over again!

Typically we rock a Monday Morning Commute here, but what the fuck. Let’s go nuts. A lot of people are already off, a lot of people are going to be off, and those who aren’t getting any time off are obviously welcome to use this place as a refuge.

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It’s that time again! Weekend Open Bar! I am turning the sign on a bit late tonight, having gone straight from work to my parents’ house. Crushed some pizza. Hung out with Rendar and his Better Half. Now? Now I’m putting this column up before I go and hopefully play Destiny: The Taken King for a solid three hours or so!

This is! Weekend Open Bar! The column at the end of the Work Week/Internet/Universe where I invite you to join me every weekend. Come share what you’re doing this weekend. What you’re wearing. What you’re reading. The comic books you’re worshipping, the flavor of the boogers (argh, allergies!) you’re feeling slide down the back of your throat! Anything! Everything! Gifs, gabs, gestures towards Deities Who Have Abandoned You. It’s all fair game, here. Just come hang out.

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A goddamn long weekend is arriving here in the Empire Proper. And I’m stoked, standing at the intersection between Taking The Day Off Regardless and Lamenting Its Celebrating That Genocidal Guy. Leaning heavily towards taking any extra day off though, to be honest. And so! Long weekend, afoot!

Let’s celebrate it in the Weekend Open Bar. Together!

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Come one, come all into the Weekend Open Bar. The one-stop Tavern at the end of the Intergalactic Internets for all of us degenerates to gather. Spend two days of revelry, madness, drunken babbling, and overall hearty times within these dementia-slicked walls.

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