Rhetorical Essay On Beer Pong
The game of beer pong in front of me heated up as I stared into the white lining of my plastic cup. I was never that big into drinking. Perhaps when I was older, I thought, I would like it better. But no matter what I tried, it just made me sick. I didn’t know how the frat guys could chug all the beer on the table and not puke (well most of them, anyway). I was talking with my friend Amber, if you could really call it a conversation. She interrupted me most times I spoke with rhetorical questions about how hot her college boyfriend was, and how well he was doing in the beer pong game. He was losing, by the way. I eventually learned to just ask her questions which would keep her talking for a while so I could try and zone out. The time I spent retreating back into my head was
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“, that trick wont’ work on me forever. One of these days I’ll find it in me to say ‘no’.” He knocked on the coat room door in case it was occupied by another couple in need of privacy. No one answered. “Well then...” I stood there for a second trying to come up with a good response. “I’ll just have to come up with a better way to manipulate you.” I kissed him on the back of the neck. “Woah, there.” He turned around to face me. “Now who’s Casanova?” He chuckled and kissed me on the forehead. “So, where’s yours?” he asked, looking around the room. “About that…I thought you could lend me your jacket tonight?” “Ah, come on!” he went over to the bed to fetch the letterman’s jacket he spotted sticking out of a mound of our fellow partygoer’s outerwear. “It’s freezing outside! Why didn’t’ you bring one?” he clutched the ocean blue and white jacket tight in his arms. “I was going to, but Amber was rushing me to get here so she could see Allen.” “Allen?” Sam said with a confused look. “I thought her boyfriend’s name was Paul?” “Nope, it’s Allen. Or else she would have been calling him by the wrong name all
“, that trick wont’ work on me forever. One of these days I’ll find it in me to say ‘no’.” He knocked on the coat room door in case it was occupied by another couple in need of privacy. No one answered. “Well then...” I stood there for a second trying to come up with a good response. “I’ll just have to come up with a better way to manipulate you.” I kissed him on the back of the neck. “Woah, there.” He turned around to face me. “Now who’s Casanova?” He chuckled and kissed me on the forehead. “So, where’s yours?” he asked, looking around the room. “About that…I thought you could lend me your jacket tonight?” “Ah, come on!” he went over to the bed to fetch the letterman’s jacket he spotted sticking out of a mound of our fellow partygoer’s outerwear. “It’s freezing outside! Why didn’t’ you bring one?” he clutched the ocean blue and white jacket tight in his arms. “I was going to, but Amber was rushing me to get here so she could see Allen.” “Allen?” Sam said with a confused look. “I thought her boyfriend’s name was Paul?” “Nope, it’s Allen. Or else she would have been calling him by the wrong name all