JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 1: Me (Multi-Colored Face Girl)
Two weeks ago, I had a Halloween party at my house. I bought an awesome Cobra Kai costume online for the mere price of $135 (you can see pictures of this on my Facebook page).
You may argue that $135 for a costume is a bit ridiculous. I say you're ridiculous. Paying $135 is well worth being an awesome member of the Cobra Kai. Besides, I'm pretty sure Johnny Lawrence's mom paid the same amount to get her son into the dojo.
I started drinking at 8. Around 11, I was talking to my cousin and her friend, when my cousin receives news that her other friend is coming to the party. She excitedly turns to me and says, "Walt, you have to see this girl when she comes. Her face is so many colors."
Now, my cousin and I like to make fun of people, but at that point, I had so much alcohol in my system that I misinterpreted what she meant. I assumed this girl was coming as a bag of Skittles or Jerry Seinfeld's favorite black-and-white cookie. After all, we had a number of great costumes at the party already, including a sperm bank, Mario, Luigi and Princess Peach, and Bullwinkle. Oh, and did I mention that I spent $135 on a Cobra Kai uniform? Sweep the leg, b****es.
I was pretty drunk, so I don't know how much time passed by. It felt like anywhere between 5-30 minutes. But I was once again talking to my cousin and her friend in the dining room. I suddenly remembered what my cousin told me earlier.
Unable to control the volume of my voice, I yelled, "Where is the Multi-Colored Face Girl?" My cousin's friend's jaw dropped. My cousin, in shock, went "Shhhh!"
I was confused and asked what I did wrong. They told me Multi-Colored Face Girl was right in the other room and that she may have heard me. I asked what the problem was. They said that she had a tanning accident when fake-baking, which distorted her face into all of these different color shades.
I was disappointed. Not because I insulted Multi-Colored Face Girl and potentially ruined her self-esteem, but because I wanted to see someone dressed as a bag of Skittles. I like Skittles.
The moral of the story here is to not tell me anything mean about anyone when I'm drunk. Not because I'll insult them; but because after I do so, they'll get revenge on me.
Later that night, Multi-Colored Face Girl vomited all over my couch, and instead of cleaning it up, she passed out in her mess.
Just your typical WalterFootball.com party.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Downtown Philly
Last week, I was talking to my friend Ryan online. Ryan suggested that I drive downtown to hang out. In response, I sent him a series of IMs:
Me: No I don't wanna drive downtown
Me: I don't wanna park downtown
Me: I don't wanna get lost downtown
Me: I don't wanna get harassed by bums downtown
Me: I don't wanna see artsy-fartsy new-age hippies downtown
Let's backtrack a bit. I live in Philly, but my neighborhood looks more suburban than anything else. It's about a 20-25-minute drive downtown from where I live, yet I seldom go there. Aside from a 3-month period in which I actually worked downtown, I can count the number of times I've been down there on my hand.
I hate downtown Philly for the five reasons I listed above. Let's go into them in more detail.
I don't wanna drive downtown
I went to Penn State for six years, so I've done that 3-hour drive about 100 times. I don't want to drive anymore. I'm retired from driving. Anything more than 10 minutes behind the wheel is unacceptable.
Driving downtown is also confusing. Every street is one way. I don't understand this concept. What if I have to get to the other side? Do I disobey the law and drive the wrong way on a one-way street, or am I stuck on my side for the rest of my life? I'm pretty sure that many people have died of hunger while trying to figure out how to get to the other side of a one-way street.
I don't wanna park downtown
Superman had his Kryptonite. Achilles had his heel. Johnny Lawrence had that cheap move that Mr. Miyagi taught Daniel-san. I have parallel parking.
If you're not willing to pay $50 to park in a lot downtown, you have to parallel park. I can't do this. I don't know how I passed this portion of my driver's test, but it was sheer luck. I think I was on steroids that day.
Parallel parking is so difficult that I'm beginning to think that it's impossible. People say they can do it, and I've been in a car when it's actually been done before, but I'm going to assume that the driver drugged me while doing it just to trick me into thinking that parallel parking is possible.
Kids, don't believe the hype. No human can parallel park. If they tell you they can, they are liars.
I don't wanna get lost downtown
Downtown is a maze. It's a bunch of tall buildings, confusing one-way streets and signs that lead you the wrong way.
You may say that you like the challenge of a maze, but you can die in this maze. If you go too far in the wrong direction, you'll end up in a bad neighborhood (North Philly). Best-case scenario, you get mugged for your shoes. Worst-case scenario, they shoot you and then piss on your body.
I don't wanna get harassed by bums downtown
Kids are afraid of monsters. Women are afraid of spiders. I am afraid of bums.
You may laugh, but bums are actually the most dangerous people in the entire world. Yes, even more dangerous than Osama bin Laden.
Bums have absolutely nothing to lose. If they kill someone, they go to prison, where they get a roof over their head and multiple meals per day. That's actually an upgrade over their current living conditions. In a sense, they actually get awarded for committing a crime.
If I were a bum, I wouldn't kill anyone, but I'd at least mug enough people to get thrown into prison. Instead of spending my winters sleeping in some gutter when it's 20 degrees outside, I'd get a warm place to live. Sure, I'd have to take it up the a** sometimes (not that there's anything wrong with that), but the upgrade in living conditions might actually be worth it.
I don't wanna see artsy-fartsy new-age hippies downtown
You may not know what an artsy-fartsy new-age hippie is. If so, consider yourself very fortunate.
Artsy-fartsy new-age hippies comprise the majority of the population in large downtown cities. They have most of the following characteristics:
They spend the majority of their salary at Starbucks, where they pretend to write books, paint pictures and make music.
Unfortunately for Starbucks, their salary is so small that they can barely afford to buy anything more than a few cups of coffee each day.
Their books, pictures and music - assuming they ever get finished - really blow. Like you'd rather kill yourself than read/look at/listen to their work.
They say that they're cultured, and brag about the foods they've eaten and the cities they've visited.
They go to hookah lounges constantly and brag about it.
They voted for Barack Obama because we need to put every effort into making peace with the countries that hate us and torched our flag when 9-11 happened.
They want to save all of the animals and rain forests - at the expense of some humans.
They say they plan on traveling across the world once they get enough money saved up. At their current salary, that year will be 5402, give or take a century.
They have multiple piercings and/or tattoos and/or dyed hair and/or long hair (guy)/short hair (girl).
They look like they haven't showered in years.
Fortunately for us, they say they'll always live downtown because it's "more cultured," and it's "where life happens."
I said earlier that I was more scared of bums than anything else. Not true. I'm afraid of being kidnapped and brainwashed into becoming one of these artsy-fartsy new-age hippies.
I hope I've made myself clear as to why I hate downtown Philly. Perhaps after reading this, Ryan will think twice before suggesting that I take a trip down there.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Random Jerks at the WalterFootball.com Halloween Party
Multi-Colored Face Girl: I already mentioned that Multi-Colored Face Girl got revenge on me by throwing up all over my couch and subsequently passing out in her mess.
To get revenge on her back for ruining my couch, I'd like to make fun of her even more. Word came around to me that she's failing out of school right now.
This doesn't surprise me at all. I mean, if you show up to some random party on a random night, and in two hours, puke all over a couch and sleep in it, there's a good chance you're failing out of school.
I consider myself a college expert. I went to Penn State (main campus) for six years and I've been a guest speaker at many classes. So, I know what these sort of girls look like. And she definitely epitomizes that. In fact, if I were a professor and I saw her walk in the first day of class, I'd just look at her and say, "There's no way you can pass this class. You should just leave now."
Arina: I've been friends with this girl Arina for a long time now. She's hooked me up with free water ice at Rita's. We also got mono on the same night by playing beer pong on the same side of the table. I considered us good friends because of this.
Until the night of the party, that is.
Arina told me that she almost sent me a text a week ago. I asked her why, and she said that she met Bill Simmons and didn't know what to say to him.
I was drunk at the time, but I'm pretty sure I berated her for not telling him that she and I were friends. Bill Simmons is one of the reasons I got into sports writing, and if it wasn't for him, this site probably wouldn't exist right now. If I weren't so scared to go downtown, I would have met him myself.
Fat Russian Guy: I was pretty gone when I talked to this guy. I would have even forgotten about him if I didn't see his ugly mug in one of the pictures on Facebook.
I wish I could remember what happened, but I remember being really pissed off at him. I don't know if it was because he was so ugly and fat, or if he said something to me.
Perhaps he defended Multi-Colored Face Girl's honor. Maybe he said my Web site sucks. Or it could be that he was actually an artsy-fartsy new-age hippie in disguise as a fat Russian guy.
Now that I think about it, I don't know which of those three things is worse.