With the triumphant return of The League tonight, and the premiere of the fourth season on Netflix, you can finally watch a show you’re not ashamed of. Few shows tackle postgrad problems quite like The League — you hate your job, your friends are assholes, and your only escape is tuning the world out while you set your lineup.
If you find solace from your mediocre life as a cubicle warrior by making fun of your friends and their terrible choices, you can probably relate to one, or more, members of the League, which begs the question — who are you?
You spend your days convincing your superiors you’re working, when the reality is that the only thing on your agenda is erasing your shady browser history. You’re the friend that’s a little bit harder to make fun of, because while you don’t have the perfect job or significant other, your life is basically okay. You wonder why you haven’t found that special someone yet, but you insist on dating girls who think that Ben Roethlisberger is an acceptable player, morally speaking. Despite your existence as a corporate drone, you still manage to do well with the ladies, even if you did almost have a devil’s three-way with El Cuñado.
You shun the technological advances of the modern world, which basically means that you avoid Facebook at all costs. After all, MyFace is far superior. Even though you’re technically an adult, your favorite pastime is enjoying a bong (guest or otherwise), and who can blame you? The postgrad world is hard, and it’s not like you have anything else going for you, anyway. While you’re (hopefully) not cooking up 3 Penis Wine in your bathtub, you might have turned to home brewing in an effort to find a vaguely acceptable adult hobby. You increase your Eskimo family regularly, to ensure that your life runs smoothly. After all, that’s how you get things done.
You’re deranged, and impossible to get rid of. The only reason you’re in your league, or friend group for that matter, is because of a prior connection that makes you a necessity, unfortunately. You’re probably not reading this now because you’re busy in your bobum van. You have some slightly sketchy friends, like Dirty Randy, but at the end of the day, you’re the sketchiest of them all.
You’re always trying to convince people you’re more impressive than you actually are, but just because you have money and a vaguely impressive job doesn’t mean you can convince anyone you’re a good person. You’re paranoid, but when enough people hate you, it gives you every right to be. While you may have dated larger ladies in the past, your successful career means that you’ve outkicked the coverage when it comes to your current dating scenario, and your life in general.
Externally, it seems like you have your life together, but that doesn’t stop you from getting a fear boner every once in a while. You’re the friend who just has their stuff together a little more than everything else. You have the long term relationship and the job that doesn’t suck. Basically, what I’m trying to say politely, is that you’re boring. You probably cashed your v-card in to someone a little bit on the embarrassing side, but by now you’ve recovered. You collude with your significant other a little too regularly, and aren’t ever seen away from their side. Yes, love is nice, but you could use some time off every once in a while. It makes sense though, because you basically can’t do anyting for yourself, including setting your lineup.
You’re one of the boys, despite the fact that they’d rather you weren’t. Sure, you might be accused of vaginal hubris from time to time, but it comes from a good place. You’re way better than the Sophias of the world, even if their tatas do put yours to shame. You’re extremely vulgar (for a girl), which means that outsiders are constantly judging you for your bad behavior, when the reality is that they’re just jealous that you can out-insult them. As long as your boss doesn’t overhear your dirty talk you’re in the clear.
Your personality changes daily, mostly based on what lady you’re trying to bone. From your turn dumpster diving (I’m sorry, urban foraging), to mixology (fun with coke!), to the beautiful Ed Hardy shirts you wear, you think you’re embracing the latest trends, when the reality is that your try-hard attitude guarantees that you’ll never get the girl, even if you do run a marathon. Plus, even if you do, your friends will tell her about that time you ate all that soy and accidentally breastfed Baby Geoffrey, and there’s no coming back from that.