Cardiac Spill: Explaining The Georgia Tech Loss To Your Non-Sports Friend

Of course I’m bummed, dude, did you see the game?

(…)

Where were you?

(…)

And you couldn’t hear the anguished cries from the Warhol? It’s basically… right there.

(…)

What was the big deal? How do I put this… it was sort of like if you arranged a nice, uh, twelve-dollar-a-plate dinner date with a girl, right? You’re shelling out a bit because she seemed worth it. She gets there, the waiter comes out, and she immediately starts listing all these different weird dietary restrictions she probably found out about from a friend. Like, it’s a seafood restaurant, and she can’t eat fish, but also salt, and green vegetables. You’re trying to rationalize this as fast as you can, but then she tells you she’s uncomfortable that the waiter is Hispanic because of how they "might have Ebola" somehow. This is all before the bread basket hits the table, right? So you know right there this evening is just not gonna get better, but you’re too nice to just leave, and so you just sit there nodding and not rolling your eyes for two hours as she goes on about the melting point of steel or how JoePa deserved better.

(…)

Yeah, she knew it was a seafood restaurant going into the date.

(…)

It’s not a sexist metaphor, dude, it works just as well if the date was a guy talking about, I dunno, gaming journalism ethics.

(…)

Dude, okay, calm down, it’s fine, I’ll try again. Okay. It was like using your Saturday night to see a friend’s sketch comedy group. You haven’t seen them before and you’re holding out hope that you’re gonna be pleasantly surprised, because he’s kinda funny sometimes, right? Then the first sketch is about the Federal Reserve, he's playing "Ben Ber-Spank-Me," and the only prop they have is a folding table they’re pretending is a desk. He’s doing some weird nasally voice that you have no idea is close to a Ben Bernanke voice or not (because who does?) and just as you get used to it this short Irish-looking guy comes out on stage in a cheap suit, and he’s got this nametag that says "President Barack Ebola," and, yup, it’s a redhead doing an Obama impression. For eight minutes.

Then the rest of the show is just regular awful sketch comedy, y’know, the same joke repeated twenty times in five minutes, people who think annoying eventually becomes funny, that sort of thing.

(…)

You’re in the front row. He’d see you leave. Plus there’s only ever like twelve people in the audience at these shows.

(…)

There is no intermiss- you know what, forget it. One more time. Alright… oh, okay, you’re still trying to get a ride to Philly for Thanksgiving, right?

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No, dude, I’m still from Youngstown and I still don’t have a car either.

(…)

What I meant was, let’s say some rando on Facebook takes you up on your offer and even refuses to let you pay for gas. You meet him at his place that Tuesday, and everything checks out, you’ve seen the dude around campus, it’s all good, no secret elaborate kidnapping plot today. But then you get out of Oakland and he puts a lecture from one of his classes on his radio mp3 player thing. And he’s apologetic and all, but dude insists that this is the only way he’s gonna pass organic chemistry this semester. So you go to your bag, and, what do you know, frayed wire, your earbuds are busted. So you’ve got five hours of O-Chem lectures and southern Pennsylvania ahead of you.

(…)

You can’t buy a magazine at the rest stop, he’s driving a hybrid and filled up the night before. Plus it’s really hard to read when there’s someone talking.

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But in this metaphor you're not pre-med.

(...)

Your phone is de- you know what? I hate you. It was like the experience of watching Irrevérsible. Like, the beating, the brutality, all that was at the start, then things only got better in the sense that bad stuff stopped happening and you still had to cope with all that just lingering over everything that followed.

(…)

Dude, how many times have I told you that you need to watch Irrevérsible?

It was like watching Grave of the Fireflies, like, you know from what you’ve heard it’s gonna suck, and it does totally start out brutal, but then you get your hopes up halfway through, and -

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I AM NEVER RECOMMENDING MOVIES TO YOU AGAIN.

It was like watching Requiem for a Dream backwards.

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Oh, come on, what have you seen?

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Well, I don’t watch Game of Thrones, so I can't help you there.

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It was like if the short guy… was beat up by a dragon… a bunch… at a wedding. I DON’T KNOW, DUDE. I DON’T WATCH GAME OF THRONES. LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

(…)

Okay. Okay. Fine.

It was like Suits but instead of fast-talking lawyers doing lawyer stuff in Law City there was a football team playing as bad as anyone could possibly imagine for the first part of the "episode," and then a football team playing not good enough for the rest of the "episode." It was like if they lost the case, or the merger, or whatever, five minutes in and then did nothing for the rest of the hour. That's what it was like.

(…)

FINALLY. Wow. I don’t know why I hang out with you sometimes.

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Screw you. So what’d you do at the Warhol?

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No there’s not, I was there last Sunday.

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AH DUDE NO, NO, STOP LYING, YOU WERE AT LINDSEY’S. KNEW IT, KNEW IT, I TOLD YOU Y’ALL’D GET BACK TOGETHER. I TOLD YOU. EVERYONE SAW ME TELL YOU THAT.

(…)

NO DON’T YOU WALK AWAY, YOU OWE ME THAT TEN BUCKS NOW, DUMBASS, WE SHOOK HANDS ON THAT ONE, THERE WERE LIKE SIX WITNESSES WHEN IT HAPPENED

WHY DID YOU EVEN PICK THE WARHOL AS YOUR COVER STORY YOU FRIGGIN’ IDIOT