This week, in an interview with the Emory Spoke, Emory senior Jefferson Daniels, Goizueta ’15, fondly recalled the one time when he came very close to giving a fuck about someone’s drunken night at Maggie’s Bar and Grill.
“I mean, it feels so surreal,” said Daniels. “I mean, there I was, hungover with my friend, and he starts talking about his night out on the town. I could feel myself being pulled into his hyperbolic, unreliably narrated story, and I could feel myself starting to give a shit with every nod and smile as my friend listed off every shot he had taken.”
Jefferson paused for a moment, dabbing a tear at the corner of his eye. Emotion dripped from every word.
“I mean, I thought I was just going to have to snooze through another set of escapades, but this one was different,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “When Evan said that he came this close to jumping off that roof, and then recapped how close he was to scoring some tail, I almost gave a semblance of fuck.”
“I don’t know man, it gets to you. Once I graduate, I may never again hear a half-assed story about how many beers my friend consumed via funnel. What kind of life is that?”
Daniels is just one of many graduating seniors realizing that life beyond college might soon make their hilarious drunken antics difficult to tell, given strict codes of political correctness in the workplace.
“College is a time to live it up. If my friends and I don’t make memories now, how will I tell my kids I used to be frat when my life has long since turned into the 9 to 5 grind?” Daniels asked.
At press time, Jefferson was staring into his can of Pabst Blue Ribbon as a nearby acquaintance narrated the time he had smoked, by all accounts, “a lot” of weed.
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