If you give a columnist a Keystone, he'll probably ask for a key so he can shotgun it.
If you give him a key, he will be reminded of the car he used to own. He'll ask to take your car out for a drive, but you'll say, "No, columnist, you've been drinking, I won't let you take my car out for a spin."
As soon as you say spin, however, he'll want to show you his favorite Web site. You'll give him your laptop and he'll try to set it as your homepage. But before he can, he'll notice your real homepage is ESPN.com. He will read Scoop Jackson and Bill Simmons' columns with an abundance of one-word paragraphs. The columnist wishes he could write like those two.
Then.
He.
Will.
Check the college basketball scores and see that Notre Dame has suffered another embarrassing loss. When he finds out about the loss he'll yell: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this anymore." He'll ask for some eggs so that you can go egg Mike Brey's house. You won't know where Mike Brey lives, so he will call up a local turtleneck store and ask where their biggest customer lives.
By the time he makes this call, you will have the eggs in your hands, but as soon as he sees the eggs he'll want you to make him some breakfast. Since you haven't stolen a monogram waffle iron from the dining hall yet, you'll go to the kitchen and scramble some eggs, fry up some crisp bacon and microwave some toast (who owns a toaster anyways). As soon as he sees all of these healthy food options, he'll want you to make him some freshly-squeezed orange juice.
You'll take out your juicer and your oranges and slice them in half and twist them and turn them. As he watches the juice squeeze out he will be reminded of a line from his favorite movie, "The Girl Next Door." He'll want to watch the movie immediately, and you will put it on and watch it in earnest. You'll see the beautiful Elisha Cuthbert, the nefarious Timothy Olyphant, the dorkish Paul Dano and the plainly successful Emile Hirsch.
As soon as the columnist sees Emile Hirsch he'll be reminded of "Into the Wild," and will want to go camping (Sidebar one: He could be reminded of "Milk," but this direction will be more suitable for Notre Dame readers). You'll get your Wrangler Jeans, ax, dog, white water raft and start to rock out to Thin Lizzy while you put on your hiking boots. As soon as he sees your boots, however, he will want to go outside and play in the snow.
You'll make snow angels, play snow football, go sledding and go ice skating. You will hold hands on the ice rink, practice short track relay exchanges and fall on your face several times. You'll be so happy and merry that time will practically come to a standstill and you will hope that this most romantic day of all days will never end. After a while, however, you'll both get cold; and it will be time to go inside. You will make some hot chocolate to get warm, but he will still have some annoyingly repetitive sniffles.
"I feel sick," he will say, and you will ask him if he has a fever. When you say fever, however, his face will light up and his eyes will sparkle like the top of the Chrysler Building. "Fever," he will say, "We have to go to Club Fever."
"Fever?" You will respond angrily. "We went to Club Fever last week. Remember, the whole true love thing. You lost your coat. (Sidebar two: If anybody out there has information about a North Face jacket that was removed from the second floor of Club Fever several weeks ago leaving a pool of vomit in its place and the hat that was in the pocket on a nearby chair, a substantial bounty is being offered for it). We should go to Finnegan's tonight. You can wear a T-shirt there!," you will suggest.
"Ok fine" He will say as he just wants to get out of the house and go to some sweet South Bend dive bars that will make his clothing smell like he's a chain smoker. You will leave the apartment after calling your cab driver and take your key out so that you can lock the door. But as soon as he sees your key, he will probably want to shotgun a beer, and if he wants to shotgun a beer, chances are ...
... He'll ask you for another Keystone.
Bob Kessler is a senior majoring in political science and economics. He would like to dedicate this column to the first graders of Mary Frank Elementary School who attentively listened as he read "If You Give A Pig A Pancake." You can contact him at rkessler@nd.edu
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
