Sometimes, I can't write about a certain situation or event in my blog, either because (1) it's not the type of information that I want to disclose on the internets or (2) see number one. I've created this special heading so that it's clear to everyone that what I'm talking about here is really not exactly what I'm talking about at all-- like the name says, it's just a shitty metaphor for something else. Do with it what you will...
My brother Remy and I used to play this game. Actually, it really wasn't ever a "game" in the purest sense. It was more like Remy would take a running start from somewhere and then pounce on me while my back was turned and shout: "Free piggy-back ride!"
My "little" brother is nearly an entire foot taller than I am and even before he spent his days drinking beer and lifting weights, he was just a real solidly-built kid. There was no "piggy-back ride", there was only the sound of me shouting, "Holy shit!" and then the thud that came from my knees buckling and me hitting the floor shortly thereafter.
Sometimes, I'd volunteer to give him a piggy-back ride -- just to see if I actually could. I'd teeter around with him on my back for a few seconds before, again, collapsing to the floor.
Bear with me, because we're not even to the Shitty Metaphor part yet, this is just the set up. I want you all to understand that sometimes I will occasionally offer a friend a piggy-back ride. It has something to do with this "game". Also, 9 times out of 10, I am drunk when this occurs.
Ok, so, here comes the Shitty Metaphor:
(Click Below for More)
One time when I was drunk, Schmidt and I were walking from RLH to 117a. And Schmidt said,
"Brooks, I'm so tired. I don't want to walk anymore."
So, I responded:
"That's ok, hop on my back I will carry you home. I'm totally serious."
Because when I drink, I am always totally serious.
It took quite a bit of convincing, but he did it. And I carried him about 10 meters. He is a surprisingly lightweight and aerodynamic structure.
Then Schmidt was like, "Wait, stop."
So, I did and we resumed walking side-by-side. Neither of us spoke for about five minutes, until I said:
"That was kind of fun, but awkward, right?"
And he was like, "Yep...let's never mention that this happened."
"Fine by me."
Another five minutes of silence pass by, after which I piped up and said:
"Hey Schmidt, remember that time I gave you a piggy-back ride? Wasn't that pretty fun?"
"What did I just say, Brooks?"
"Oh yeah, right. My bad."
Then, we walked the rest of the way home, ate some chicken wings and went to bed.
The point of this Shitty Metaphor:
Sometimes, friends give each other piggy-back rides. There's nothing inherently wrong with this because it's fun...BUT it can also be a little bit weird. So weird in fact, that you don't even know what to say to each other for awhile. My recommendation? Just shut the fuck up for a bit and go eat some chicken wings.
My brother Remy and I used to play this game. Actually, it really wasn't ever a "game" in the purest sense. It was more like Remy would take a running start from somewhere and then pounce on me while my back was turned and shout: "Free piggy-back ride!"
My "little" brother is nearly an entire foot taller than I am and even before he spent his days drinking beer and lifting weights, he was just a real solidly-built kid. There was no "piggy-back ride", there was only the sound of me shouting, "Holy shit!" and then the thud that came from my knees buckling and me hitting the floor shortly thereafter.
Sometimes, I'd volunteer to give him a piggy-back ride -- just to see if I actually could. I'd teeter around with him on my back for a few seconds before, again, collapsing to the floor.
Bear with me, because we're not even to the Shitty Metaphor part yet, this is just the set up. I want you all to understand that sometimes I will occasionally offer a friend a piggy-back ride. It has something to do with this "game". Also, 9 times out of 10, I am drunk when this occurs.
Ok, so, here comes the Shitty Metaphor:
(Click Below for More)
One time when I was drunk, Schmidt and I were walking from RLH to 117a. And Schmidt said,
"Brooks, I'm so tired. I don't want to walk anymore."
So, I responded:
"That's ok, hop on my back I will carry you home. I'm totally serious."
Because when I drink, I am always totally serious.
It took quite a bit of convincing, but he did it. And I carried him about 10 meters. He is a surprisingly lightweight and aerodynamic structure.
Then Schmidt was like, "Wait, stop."
So, I did and we resumed walking side-by-side. Neither of us spoke for about five minutes, until I said:
"That was kind of fun, but awkward, right?"
And he was like, "Yep...let's never mention that this happened."
"Fine by me."
Another five minutes of silence pass by, after which I piped up and said:
"Hey Schmidt, remember that time I gave you a piggy-back ride? Wasn't that pretty fun?"
"What did I just say, Brooks?"
"Oh yeah, right. My bad."
Then, we walked the rest of the way home, ate some chicken wings and went to bed.
The point of this Shitty Metaphor:
Sometimes, friends give each other piggy-back rides. There's nothing inherently wrong with this because it's fun...BUT it can also be a little bit weird. So weird in fact, that you don't even know what to say to each other for awhile. My recommendation? Just shut the fuck up for a bit and go eat some chicken wings.
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