Mother. Fucking. Yes! It’s the Weekend, friends! Kick off your pants, pick up your preferred drink, and get your ass around the hearth! This is the latest edition of the Open Bar! And man, it feels good to be here. Why? Cause, it’s the last fucking Weekend of the semester, baby! As well, it’s been a long, dark, cold, snow-filled week!

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What’s up, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega? How are you doing? I’m aiight, kicking it. I’m aiight, sluggishly tumbling headfirst into the final weekend of the semester. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. Skull-meat’s synapses barely firing, as my thickened blood fails to pump all that well.

But, I’m blessed enough to have the weekend off.

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Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend. Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend Open Bar! Oh, fuck! My wife told me I only have ten minutes to Open the Bar. And, and, and, you know. Between fiddling with the volume control on my speakers, messaging a couple of friends, and, you know. Do you know? ‘Cause I don’t. Where the fuck is the time going? Oh, fuck! Time, it bleeds, life it bleeds, the universe it slowly, slowly bleeds out. Us, it, none of us truly conscious of it! Stay focused though, man! There ain’t time for your usual existential blatherings.

This is Weekend Open Bar!

The cure-all, catch-all weekly column at the end of the work week! Where I, your Captain and Local Garbage Lord, implore you to come and hang out! Share what you’re eating, watching, watching while eating, playing, et cetera. So on. So forth.

Get high, get drunk, get hard, get soft, whatever, whatever, whatever! It’s all good here.  So long as you don your most welcoming and affable of affectations and share what you’re up to this weekend. Shoot the shit, if you will.

This is Weekend Open Bar!

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Hello, friends. Come in, come in. Grab your voucher for a free download of RelaxYourFatCorpus.exe and let the soothing algorithms greetyour meat-processor. It’s the weekend. This is the OpenBar. The weekly one-stop for the populace of Space-Ship OMEGA to gather. Take off our shoes. Take off our pants. Shake one another’s hands (?). Then straight DigiChill.

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Ain’t no commuting for me, today! Remember how last Friday I mentioned that I called an audible and opted-out of commuting in the fucking snow? Well — today — the UniversityCzars saw fit to pull the plug on the school day. I don’t know if it has anything to do (I imagine it doesn’t, but it’s hilarious to track the students’ apoplexy on the social media platform) with the countless caterwauling of students towards them on Twitter for not cancelling Friday, but the school did it. No school. No commute. Just me, my unwashed ass, and the dim glow of the ForeverBox pumping in the EndlessEchoChamberof(Non)News and Banality. Maybe a dog walk (or two). Relaxing. Wife’s home, too. I’ll take these Circumstances.

However! Just because I ain’t commuting today, don’t mean that I don’t have to share with you what I’m up to this week! So this is still Monday Morning Commute!

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It’s Monday. And the work week is beginning for the majority of this. The work weeks will begin for the majority of us, forever, until death or retirement. Which given the state of the Rotting Empire may or may not be available for all of us. In front of us: a wasteland. Or an oasis. Depending on how you approach the rolling of your rock. Do you embrace it? Modify it with personal creation, acts of enjoyment, and a collage of distractions? Or do you pound your fists futilely, condemning the Gods That Don’t Care for y/our fate?

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Another Monday. Another snow day. The Frost God gives no fuck about the Northeast Corridor of the Empire. Week after week The Frostbitten-Fuck Deity has pummeled us, twisting our psychic-nipples and daring us to concede. There sure ain’t no fucking commuting going on for this guy. There sure ain’t no fucking classes being taught. But at least if the heat goes out, I can use all the syllabi I’ve printed out as fucking kindling. ‘Cause they sure aren’t representative of our semester progression any longer. Alas! Alack! And while there isn’t any shuffling to work today, there is the Abyss that is yet another day or two of Cabin Fever.

Here’s what I’m looking forward to and digging this week. Should I be able to leave the house. Should the power remain on.

What are you sweating over the next seven?

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True story: last night the Wife and I went out to eat with an former professor of ours. I had two beers. Was completely rocked because I never drink. Got home. Ate three bagels while lå down on the coach and watching NHL Tonight. And then fell asleep. Which is to say, that’s why I haven’t opened the fucking bar yet! But here it is! Weekend Open Bar. The gathering point for the Degenerates that roam the halls of the Space-Ship Omega. Come one, come all! Hang out. Share what you’re up to this weekend. Ridicule me for being a lightweight when it comes to adult sodas! Commiserate with me about the fact that there is eighty-five hours of snowfall hitting New England.

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It is officially the fucking doldrums, yo. The Prole Bowl has come and gone (The Lords of Kobol are kind to me), and now darkness descends upon my sad, empty life. Oh sure I could stare even further into the Abyss what, with the White Noise of sports-based distraction shuffling back into the Miasma. But who wants that? Not this bro.

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Fuck, man. Don’t listen to the media. Don’t heed the Illumnati. Don’t accept the notion that you ain’t worth something. You’re wonderful. A delectable collection of atoms. Squeezed into new form by your equally wonderful mother and father’s Copulation Boom Boom. And while you’re here, and while you’re loving yourself, why not share what else you’re loving this week? That’s the point of Monday Morning Commute. New books, new movies, new favorite things to do with your boogers. Whatever got you smiling.

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