Maybe Cool It On the Parties vs. Your Mom Pays Me To Be Your Friend

Point: Maybe Cool It On the Parties

Hey, man. I can tell you’ve been pretty stressed about your homework lately. And I get it! Finals season is right around the corner, you’re taking a full course load, and things can start to build up really fast when you’re on the quarter system. But let’s maybe try to cool it on the four-day benders every weekend, alright, champ?

Don’t get me wrong — I enjoy a good rager as much as the next guy. But I don’t think partying every single weekend is good for your mental or physical health. I’m not trying to shame you or anything, but if you took some of that time to study or get work done, you might not be so stressed all the time. You might even have more time during the week to do the things you’ve been missing out on, like sleeping

or brushing your teeth!

Hey, I’ve got an idea! Some friends and I are gonna go to Geisel together on Saturday. Do you want to come with? We could totally lock in and get some math homework done, and then we could go back to one of our dorms to drink some water, play a healthy amount of Fortnite, and go to bed at a reasonable hour. It’ll be so fire!

Counterpoint: Your Mom Pays Me To Be Your Best Friend

Listen, Bud, I’m gonna be real with you. It sounds like we have different priorities here. You want to waste your college years acting like some kind of goody-goody nerd all the time, and I want to actually enjoy myself while I’m still young. If I were you, I’d check myself before trying to push my dweebish lifestyle on anyone else. How do you think we even stayed friends after graduating from high school, Bud? Did you ever think about that? No? I’ll tell you why. It’s because your literal mother has been giving me 200 bucks a week just to hang out with you.

Let’s backtrack for a minute here. Do you remember that football game during sophomore year of high school, when I was gonna go back and get absolutely lit with the guys at Johnny’s house afterward, but I ended up just coming over to your house to study for the big physics test? I’ll tell you why that happened, Buddy. It’s ’cause just as I was heading out to the parking lot, I felt a tender hand on my shoulder. It was your mother. She told me that I was kind of your only friend, and asked if I could hang out with you more. I was like, “No way, Mrs. Brown. His sorry ass can find someone else to play Magic: the Gathering with.” But then she brought her sweet lips to my ear and whispered: “What if you could make some cash while you’re at it?”

And it didn’t stop after we graduated, either. That’s right, Buddy. Those letters I keep getting sent to my mailbox? They’re coming straight from your childhood home. You’re nothing, Brown. Let me live my life, and I’ll let you live yours.