It’s been a moment since I crept out from under the shadows and issued forth a Weekend Open Bar, huh? For that, I apologize. How the fuck are you doing, friends? Apologies for the tardiness, and all that happy horse shit. You know how it goes, or maybe you don’t know how it goes.

But, when the MalaiseVapors got your synapses in their claws, it’s hard to fight back.

But, I’m here now. The MalaiseVapors beat back, another row in the books. They’re gone, but not forgotten. They’re gone, but they’ll return. They always return, to dance the Dance Macabre.

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I ain’t having an anxiety attack, though! Don’t let the headline fool you. Just popped into my head today, when I was brainstorming headlines. A headline for what? Why, the one, the only, the perpetually poorly written and only intermittently published: Weekend Open Bar!

That’s right! Come one, come all and grab a seat here. Here! In the rotgut, mind-melting tavern aboard the Space-Ship Omega.

Once seated, then what? Glad you (didn’t) ask! Share what you’re up to over the next couple of days. Don’t matter if you’re fortunate enough to have them off, or unfortunate enough to have to continue your grind.

All are welcome! Share, share what you’re playing! Share, what what you’re reading! Share what you’re watching, eating, contemplating. Anything and everything goes here, so long as you keep it very tight butthole (the existential state, regarding your own butthole, go fucking wild, I encourage it).

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SK3RTT | slimesunday

One of the things that has struck me, on this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, is how much time I used to spend alone. Reflecting back, graduate school was just hours upon hours of me by myself, stuck in a study. Staring at a computer screen. Reading works. Contemplating bullshit academic sophistry. And, of course, writing for Omega Level.

On this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, I think I understand why I wrote so much and so openly about my cock, balls, fluids, and all sorts of weird fetishes (I still do have, but no longer flaunt so openly).

Being alone does things to you, man.

Each of these days I’ve found myself soaked in a Diet Dew haze, my hands covered in failed-children and coconut Vaseline, a stupor of unwanted freedom for a countenance. The more I seem to caffeinate, the more trips to PornHub I make, the more concerned my dog looks as I stumble around the house with my underwear around my ankles and the paper towels eluding me, the more I understand my former-self.

My former-self is really just my current-self, but far more lonely, and with far too much time on his hands.

On this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, I think I should point out to you that she’s going to be gone for another ten out of fourteen days or so.

Buckle up, good friends, OverCaffeinatedCaffeinePowered is upon you.

This is Monday Morning Commute. This is the weekly column where I list what I’m up to during a given week. I hope you’ll share what you’re doing in the comments section below. I hope you’ll keep me company. For me. For my concerned dog. For my chaffed cock and balls and crusty t-shirts and my shattered sanity and my Diet Dew-fort and my anxiety.

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