15 Signs You Need To Hit The Abort Button Right After The Pregame
I love the term “pregame,” it's very visual. Especially as a basketball fanatic. For whatever reason, I always get the mental image of being in a full warmup suit – on the layup line – whenever I'm at my boy's apartment ripping “pregame” shots. It's, you know, that exciting time before all the real action hits.
But, that begs the question. Does the real action ever truly hit? Well, if you like Taylor Swift's music, probably. But for the rest of the world that isn't trapped in that daze of delusion known as “happiness” – probably not.
If the actual “game” refers to the period of the night where you go to the club, get rejected by a ream of women, and squander all of the money and cigarettes you came with – well, then, I definitely lost the “game.”
But I hate losing. I'm a Knicks, Jets and Mets fan – I've got enough defeat right here on my plate, as is, thank you very much.
So, being the bright young (generally self-loathing) man that I am, I've devised a means of avoiding the afore-alluded-to social loss altogether. Ready for this one? All right, while everyone might PLAY to WIN the game – if you don't play at all, you also can't lose.
Therefore – following my arithmetic – by dipping out after the pregame, you'll cut your losses there. I call it, the “abort button.” Here are the 15 signs you absolutely should press it immediately after the pregame.
15. You're too drunk.
This one might be the most obvious. But when you already have thrown up a little bit in your mouth, and then swallowed it to avoid spitting it (in a projectile fashion) at the blonde next to you – you should probably consider calling it a night.
14. You spilled. Everywhere, doe.
I usually drink shots straight, and it's not because I'm some he-man drinker; in fact, I generally loathe the act of drinking.
It just feels like whenever somebody pops open a fresh bottle of cranberry juice to chase, the contents somehow always end up splattered across my shirt like it's Jackson Pollock's f*cking easel, or something.
This is what we like to call a “go home stain” – and for good reason, too – so you should probably take heed.
13. You have already managed to quote Ron Swanson about 20 times.
If it gets to the point where you're quoting any fictional television character excessively, let alone Ron Swanson – the man who appears to be perpetually perturbed – your mind is probably elsewhere. Like your bed.
With Netflix on. And a pint of whatever Ben and Jerry's flavor contains the most graphically chocolate description. Watching Ron Swanson in person. Away from other people.
12. You've had a fist fight with a few of your close friends.
Realistically, it'll probably all blow over in the morning, over an awkwardly emotional and sober reconciliation. If you got beat up at the f*cking pregame, especially by one of your friends, just go home and sleep it off.
If you did the majority of the beating up, I guess go out and, like, celebrate or something. I'm not really sure of the protocol there, but what I DO know is: a win's a win's a win.
11. TBH, you want to eat.
If you're sitting at the round table, pouring up with your buddies, and the Domino's commercial off in the distance distracts you from the “moving” sentiment that was going to be your next toast – I'd probably excuse myself, and place the order with D-mo's in the bathroom.
This way, by the time you walk back to your apartment, the wait time won't be one of your many issues.
10. You lost your phone, wallet and dignity – in no particular order.
We all know the feeling. If you pat down the thighs of your jeans, and don't feel a bulge – at least not a rectangular one, at any rate – it's never a good thing.
In today's age, periods of no phone typically equate to social irrelevancy. Why not consummate that notion by sitting in your bedroom alone, reflecting, for the rest of the night?
9. You cried.
Ultimately, if you're crying at a pregame, you gotta hit the abort button. At that point, it doesn't even matter what you're crying about because, well, you're crying at a pregame.
GO HOME ROGER (cue Tia and/or Tamera voice). Ain't no tissues round here!
8. You somehow spent all your money already!
Jeepers! If you've already spent all your money, at the pregame, I don't even know what to say. It's called a PREgame for a reason. That's why you never saw Jordan do the “Space Jam dunk” from behind half court at the f*cking layup line, BEFORE the game.
On your way home, keep your eyes peeled for any loose change on the ground, you might need it! Haaaa (not funny, insert cricket sound).
7. The music at the pregame is BUSH LEAGUE.
I once had a girl tell me – on the floor of my own fraternity house, now, mind you – that I should put on some more “fun” music. I went to sleep shortly after that, but I'll always remember handing her the auxiliary cord, only to watch her put on “Timber” by Ke$ha and Pitbull (for like the 47th time of the evening).
You know those whistles that, once you blow them, clear out any dogs within a certain range? That's the effect Pitbull, whose name ironically originates from a breed of dog, has on anyone with half-decent taste in music.
6. You're wingman-in' it too much.
When you've already helped get like five of your friends laid, and now you're stuck on the couch talking about “Gone Girl” with the “ugly friend,” you should present to her the sequel – “Gone Guy” — and vamoose up out of there.
5. Your ex came through. Ughhhherzzzzzz.
Seeing an ex saunter onto the premises of a given pregame is the social-equivalent of pulling the fire alarm. Get the f*ck out of there quickly, or risk getting burned.
4. You realize you more or less hate the majority of the people you're with.
If you're wandering around the pregame for the first two hours exploring which of the attendees you could actually tolerate a conversation with, save yourself the time and just dip. Do you want to have an intricate discussion about the midterm elections? Hardly.
But some basic exchange of linguistics wouldn't hurt. It's difficult to conduct any stimulating interaction when the better majority of people found within the dorm-sized apartment are posing for photos – and the rest are taking selfies.
3. Realistically, “SNL” has been good this season.
For the first time in forever years, “Saturday Night Live” is actually entertaining. So, that's like, I don't know, a weekly cable-based lunar eclipse – you're going to want to clear your schedule and make time to watch. The alternative, Saturday Night Blackout, is rarely as enjoyable.
2. You have pot at home.
Yeah, you dressed up, maybe threw a little mousse in your hair. Your intentions upon arriving at the pregame surely revolved around liquor, clubs and women.
Be that as it may, as soon as you remembered you have some bud at home – and an assemblage of deeply-rooted (and hidden) social insecurities – you decided you could, by and by, tackle your initial intentions tomorrow.
Maaaaaybe. But for tonight, you just want to be that guy from the old school “above the influence” commercials, who's scrunched up like an accordion on the couch.
1. You already smashed.
There's undeniably a posh class of people who have a place within the swanky “mile high club” – or “MH club,” short. These privileged individuals all managed to perform intercourse on a plane, all while the damn thing was “miles high” in the air.
Well, if you managed to bang in the bathroom of some apartment you're pregaming at, consider yourself the newest chapter of a different “MH club.” The Murray Hill club. Ya, you can go home now.
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