Why our Downton Abbey/Football Party Failed

Dear Roommate,
I know you really wanted to watch playoff football on Sunday with all your friends, so thank you so much for sharing the living room and TV with me for Downton Abbey. I think our combination of parties could really work, but I have a few minor suggestions.

• It's cool that you want to role play to get into the world of my favorite show, but you can't deem yourself the Lord of the Apartment for the whole party. It's not fair. Especially when your first rule is to turn off Downton Abbey.

• Since I bought all the beer it would be nice if you called it Ale rather than Brewskies. Just has that olde tyme flare you know, unlike, say, the contest to see who could crush the most cans on their head during the opening credits to the season premier.
• When we're watching football and you're the Lord, I'm called your "House Servant." Not "Sandwich Bitch." Not "Victorian Virgin." Just "House Servant." I understand your want to show class distinction, but it loses it's fun when you're all yelling names and throwing cheese cubes at me.

• My porridge went completely untouched because your friends brought Taco Bell Variety Pack Boxes. Not Historically Accurate!

• The three sisters have names. Mary, Edith, and Sybil. Not Hottest, Mole Face Rat, and Second Hottest.

• The 1920s is not the "Gayest Generation." If you have to call it anything, try The Jazz Age.

• The show has a lot of subtle dialogue that can easily go unnoticed when you all compete to see who can give me the worst purple nurple.

• Please give it one more try. Soon a boastful "Huzzah!" will feel natural whenever your squad kicks one through the up-rights!

• It's really hard to follow the plots when you guys keep chanting for Lady Mary Crawley to "whip her t--s out." She's not that kind of lady and this is not that kind of show.

• When it's my turn to be the Lord of the Apartment, you can't immediately get your friends to go on strike. People didn't do that. Servants never gave their bosses noogies!

• No, she doesn't look like a cheerleader, but I can still like Violet, The Dowager Countess of Grantham for her witty banter and sharp personality instead of how much I want to "bang" or "f---" her. Life is more than "bang"ing and "f---"ing you know.

• The marks on my cheek are from acne and I'm just small statured. Calling me a smallpox ridden son of a pauper is inaccurate and totally does not hurt my feelings in the slightest.

• When your squad scores, you guys can't jump up and bump bellies. I didn't enforce the seams of the wool outfits enough, so you got to be gentle.

• If you must order another pizza, you don't have to tell the delivery boy that you're stuck in Grandma Story Snore Zone and you shouldn't have offered him a $10 tip to hold me down while you wrote "World's Biggest Grumpy Baby" on my forehead.

• FYI I've done the research and there is no Victorian gesture of putting your testicles on someone's neck while they try to watch elderly women drink tea. It's just gross.

See you next Sunday!!!

– Ian "Salmon Season" Golding (@iggolding)