HBO Is Ruining My Social Life And I Don’t Care

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Nice Move

HBO

Oh, it’s you. Please close the door, all that sunlight is causing me physical pain. Also, watch where you step. Some of these fungi are pretty acidic. Yes, I know I said I’d go out for drinks last week, and that I’d help you move to a new place, but sometimes life gets in the way of our promises. Who do I look like, Brienne of fucking Tarth? I’m not keeping every oath I make because I have more important things to do now. Renewing my HBO Subscription was a choice, and it’s one you have to accept.

In the past few weeks (since they started paying me in money and not Rowdy Gentlemen apparel), I’ve become committed to a number of excellent programs. As this conversation rolls on, I’m actually less interested in anything you have to say than I am about whether Charles Green signs with a new team. It’s nothing personal; my new friends are just way more exciting and better looking than you’ll ever be. Their lives feature the kinds of twists and turns that wildly transcend discussions about what we want for dinner. Sure, I used to care that you were thinking about grad school, but quite frankly winter is here, and your problems don’t stack up.

I guess this all started when I was a kid. Watching the antics of Vince and the boys through my youthful eyes instilled a sense of wonder that just couldn’t be topped. Sure, we drifted apart around season 5 when we moved away, but I always remembered how great of an entity HBO’s programming was. Then, about midway through college, I cast my eyes upon the beauty of Emilia Clarke. Old feelings began to swell again, and before I knew it I was watching and analyzing the beauty of Westeros with real, flesh and blood people. I’d sit there, as those others yammered on about The Seven knows what, but the only two beings in the room were me and HBO. Our eyes were for each other and nobody else.

Finally, after a short hiatus, I decided to take things to the next level and commit. I still called up my side hoe, Netflix, but all they did was ask if I wanted to watch crime dramas. Crime dramas are shit. HBO understood, though, because HBO is all about open relationships. The status that came with having HBO in my back pocket actually brought in a number of other partners, and HBO loves watching us while we watch her. All it took was an e-mail address and some bread, making it much more cost efficient (and less risky) than the Malaysian sex workers that prowl my apartment complex. Sure, occasionally a dong would pop up, but, unlike with the Malaysians, we both got a laugh out of it.

Now, I don’t need to leave my apartment except for class and work. Other people are just distractions in my viewing gaps. Sure, I could go out and have a couple drinks and a laugh, or I could just spiral into the nirvana that comes with homemade Rusty Nails and a couple rewatches of Eastbound and Down. Maybe we’ll drift apart someday, after I get fired or die of gut busting, but, for now, we’re happy. So please, close the door. My friend and I have some business to take care of.

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Karl Karlson is TFM's self-proclaimed cartoon expert and your best buddy. He resides in the mountains of NC where he wrestles black bears and attempts to grow a beard. Karl gave up liquor following an unfortunate incident involving tequila and a vacuum cleaner, but he isn't above a nice stout on the porch.

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