Yesterday, I finished the last day of the summer class that I teach at UMass Boston. I am celebrating as only I, CaffDouche, can. Which is to say I’m currently eating Chez-Its, sipping directly from a 2 Liter of Pepsi Max, and playing Rise of the Tomb Raider after a long, under-caffeinated day. It’s a gratifying sensation to know that I’m done lesson planning (but not done working, this prole sallies forth like most others) for the summer. Six-weeks of being able to just beat that meat and game that game and read that comic without having to withdraw into pedagogical tomfoolery. But it’s also a bit melancholic, as six-weeks starts off sounding wonderful and slowly metamorphosizes into feeling interminable. These days, it feels culturally anathema to say you like your job. I do, though. Guilty. It’s rewarding, challenging, stimulating, and as dynamic as it gets.

I must not cop to that, though.

I’ll be ousted.

From my Millennial Generation, where self-loathing memes, anxiety, and a general pall seem to engulf the various news-feeds anyone internet-addicted and my age frequent.

Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair. The Earth is melting, when it’s not busy devolving into a rotting garbage heap. The United States’ election is being decided between a Crook and a Despot. We’re still not on Mars, we’re still fighting over oil and Sky People. So. Yeah. Certainly, I understand the occasional bout of despair.

But it’s exhausting man! And I won’t stand for it. Not today! Today, being the first day of my six-week break from wearing pants (I’ll be wearing shorts, but fuck pants until September 6). Not today! Being Saturday, the first day of my glorious weekend. Not today! Why, instead of leaning into the perpetual pall of misery and malaise, we could all embrace the glory of Weekend Open Bar!

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I say goddamn!, I’m glad it’s the weekend!

For numerous reasons. Oh, today marks the first day out of the past eight where I’m not dealing directly with my grandmother’s day. I say goddamn!, I’m glad it’s the weekend!

Oh, it marks the beginning of my glorious Cheat Days, where I can stuff my face with catastrophic amounts of calories with no guilt.  I say goddamn!, I’m glad it’s the weekend.

Oh, it marks the beginning of a laundry list of Dope Shit I’m planning on watching, reading, playing.

I say goddamn!, I’m glad it’s the weekend!

So why don’t you join me here, at Weekend Open Bar. The column where I implore all of you denizens of the Space-Ship Omega to gather, to hang out. To share the various things that are causing you to “I say goddamn!, I’m glad it’s the weekend”, with me, comrades.

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Welcome one, welcome all to Weekend Open Bar. The weekly weekend column where those of us lucky enough to have the next couple of days off (and those unlucky enough to not have them off, too) gather around the Digital Hearth. We share stories of what we’re going to be doing to enjoy our weekend. We share stories of the games we’re going to play, the movies we’re going to watch. We share stories of the meals we’re going to eat, the mistakes we’re going to make.

And go ahead! Make mistakes! Kiss that guy you can’t see yourself with long-term. Eat that twelfth slice of pizza. Play Overwatch until 6:30 am, bleary-eyed and too caffeinated to sleep well. Too hungover to yield a non-spinning room. And go ahead! Make mistakes!

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It is a melancholic Weekend Open Bar, friends. For while I open the doors to the Tavern with arms-spread welcomingly, the very cracking of the doorframe signals doom. Or namely, it signals the dusk of my Spring Break. A sad time. A bad time. Every moment a march towards the return to hour-and-a-half commute and pants. And pants! Oh, I haven’t worn a pair of real pants since last Saturday. My ever burgeoning waistline not tortured by restriction, nay, but instead comforted by the glory of an elastic waist.

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Oh come all ye degenerates, the Bar is Open. It’s the Weekend. Let us gather around the slime-soaked tavern fire, spitting whimsy and regret. Spitting about what we’re doing this weekend. Be it a movie we’re going to see, a meal we’re going to eat, a transdimensional omnisexual Manta-Beast we’re going to bang.

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I bag on Rendar and Eddie on the regular for being wanky transcendentalists. But the truth of the whole fiasco is that the only reason I became friends with Pluto in the first place is because we were both fans of Walden (okay, and a litany of other nerdier things) in a college class. And so while I think it’s a privileged idea — let’s go and hang out in the woods – Thoreau’s denunciation of the pursuit of materiality is something that’s stuck with me.

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It’s the Weekend, folks. Let’s enjoy it together. Let’s enjoy it for Stan. The (maybe)-character from True Detective‘s second season turned punchline for half of the internet. Stan‘s no longer with us, but I have it on good authority that he would have insisted that we enjoy the Weekend together. I also have it on good authority that he was a fan of the site, and particularly of this weekly column. Stan liked nothing more than lurking in Weekend Open Bar.

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It’s the fucking Weekend, yo! At least for me. I bailed on my job a smidgen early. Samantha (the bae) is getting home from a week on business in Lisbon, Portugal. So I was all like, “Yeah fuck helping the youth for the rest of the day. I’m going to get home, throw the crumbs off the bedsheets, and wash my ass.” And here I am! Unwashed, and drawing the Bar doors Open. If you’re new to this game, this little morsel of Omega is simple.

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Oh fuck! It’s Friday! Oh fuck! The semester is over! Which means this is a very special edition of Weekend Open Bar, the column where we come together to chat during the weekend. The column where we share our plans, our eats, our gifs, our drunken musings.

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Holy fucking shit hanging off the cliff-nipple of a monstrous, three-headed Minotaur with a taste for my ass but no respect for the dainty nature of a human being’s sphincter. Is there anything worse than the first fucking week back from a long weekend? The Minotaur and I answer declaratively: no. So thank goodness, it’s Friday. And this is the Weekend Open Bar.

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