Let’s get weird, motherfuckers! ‘Cause it’s the weekend! Let’s get weird, motherfuckers! Cause it’s the weekend, and it’s the twentieth of April! You know! That day. That probably means nothing to you!

But that said, this week it’s the Weekend Open Dispensary! Ha, get it?

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The Black-and-Blues were chasin’ me through the bazaar, gainin’ more and more ground than I’d thought they would’ve. Bastards. I pumped my legs harder and harder. Searched deeper and deeper in my ash-lungs. Ordered a drink when my bartender-heart flicked the lights and bellowed “Last call.”

Somehow, I burst outta the market without bein’ bludgeoned by `em. But that don’t mean that the lawmen’d given up. Hell no – you’d better believe that when the Black-and-Blues’ve worked up a thirst, they ain’t gonna stop `til they slake it with blood.

I pushed on, never stoppin’ until I saw her.

She stood at the end of the pier, smile beamin’ and hand extendin’.

We’d traveled the long hard road together, and there was no takin’ it back. None of it. Even if I’d wanted to – which you’d better believe I didn’t – there was no chance in Hell that’d we be able to undo what we’d done. The State don’t look too kindly on subversion.

And when you’re in the business of robbin’ banks and usin’ that money to fund off-world rockets for those who’ve failed all of the State’s prerequisite exams, well, y’better believe they’re lookin’ at you as subverts.

Feelin’ the heat on my heels, I ran to her, extendin’ my hand and reachin’ for hers. And when our hands interlocked, I clenched. Real goddamn hard, too. And that beamin’ smile of hers became a shootin’ scowl.  Which worked perfect, `cause once I put my blade to her neck she knew what I was doin’ but couldn’t protest through the pain.

The Black-and-Blues saw a subversive maniac threatenin’ to slit the throat of a woman. She saw the sonofabitch she loved takin’ the hard hit for the team, headfirst into the goddamn boards. And I saw the woman I loved walk away, untouched by the State and free to do as she pleased.

Needless to say, it was pretty fuckin’ righteous when she turned around and pulled out her heater.

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Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!

Now that you’ve slogged through (or skipped!) my drivel-fiction, it’s time that we all share what we’ll be checking out this week. What movies, albums, action figures, TV shows, video games, sandwiches, or other entertaining entities are you looking forward to this week?

Remember, you’ll be dead before you know it, so you might as well enjoy some life!

I’ll get us started!

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First weekend of my post-semester existence! Which, really, doesn’t mean much to me. Still papers to grade. Still college essays to read for placements. Still a conference presentation to cobble together. Still a looming summer semester to plan for. Still a wedding. Fuck, fuck, fuck! But honestly? I’m sort of addicted to the chaos. Whenever I truly have nothing to do, I sort of fart about. Eat too much. Lament my mortal coil’s sloughing. But when I’m busy? Miserable. Ah! To be bipolar. Ah! To be human. Enough about me, though. This is Weekend Open Bar!

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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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Hey friends. Tuesday Morning Commute! in the house. The column where we share the various nonsense that is getting us through the grind of a given week. Speaking of grinds — sorry for the lack of updates. And the tardiness of this column. Last week of the semester is a wonderful sprint through existence. Pubes on fire. Covered in anxiety-vomit. Praying for a better world. The good news is that starting next week you’re going to be way stuck with me for four months.

This is what I’m digging.

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Oh Lords of Advil, don’t fail me now. It’s Monday — folks. That sucks. It’s also Caff-Pow here — folks. Doubly sucks. Tagging in for Rendar this week. Stow your tears, he’ll be back next week. So for now, I’m going to drop on you the various things I’m indulging on during this week. ‘Cause, you know, that’s the premise of this column. Monday Morning Commute.

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Come one, come all!

Step right up to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! This is the carny freakshow extraordinaire, spectacular spectacle  for all of us disposable zeroes who’ve climbed aboard Spaceship OL. What’re we doin’ here? Well, we’re goin’ to show off the various ways we’ll entertain ourselves throughout the course of the workweek.

`Cause without music and movies and television and comics and action figures and greasy burgers, what’s the goddamn point?

Let’s do this!

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Hello there, fellow worker bees! Are you already sick of the workweek? Don’t worry, you’re not alone! The way the Man has it set up, we’re all supposed to hate our Monday through Friday responsibilities, those tasks that we must complete so that we can earn currency to exchange for the electricity and beer and buffalo wings that we enjoy on the weekends.

It’s hardly an ideal system.

But fear not, for this right here is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! I’m going to show you the various ways I’ll be thwarting the advances of that spirit-crushing behemoth commonly referred to as Workweek Ennui! After you check out my snake-oils, hit up the comments section and display your own wares.

Grab a Diet Fanta and jump on in!

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