Five months ago, I discussed a weirdo at my gym named No Space Man. This guy was invited to his best friend's birthday party, but was later disinvited because his best friend "ran out of space." Not exactly the strongest of friendships, I guess.
I hadn't seen No Space Man since. I figured he jumped off a building or slit his wrists because he realized that he doesn't have any true friends. However, I saw him last Friday in my gym locker room as I was dressing to go swim.
Me: Hey man, where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while.
No Space Man: I went on vacation.
Me: For five months? Where the hell did you go?
No Space Man: I went on a cruise, and then I went to Europa!
Europa? What the hell is Europa? Don't you mean Europe, a-hole? No wonder his best friend doesn't want to hang out with him.
I went out to the pool, and No Space Man followed me. I jumped into a lane with only one corpse floating around in it. I swam about 100 yards (four laps) when No Space Man jumped into the lane next to mine.
Throughout my 1,200-yard workout, I lapped No Space Man many times. I would also see him stand on the wall for a while. Toward the end, he hopped out of the pool and chatted with the lifeguard.
Now, all of this may not seem like a big deal - until you read the conversation we had afterward:
No Space Man: So how much did you swim?
Me: I did 1,200 yards.
No Space Man: How many laps is that?
Me: That's 48 laps.
No Space Man: Wow, that's exactly how much I did!
What!? I saw you stop multiple times and talk to the lifeguard! And when you were swimming, I lapped you! What a freaking liar. I'm beginning to think you didn't go to Europa, No Space Man.
At any rate, the conversation continued:
Me: I would have gone for a mile, but I have a few things to do.
No Space Man: Me too.
*** Like visit Europa perhaps, or go on another cruise? ***
No Space Man: What do you have to do?
Me: Well, I need to go to the bank, and then I'm meeting my friend at the movies.
No Space Man: What movie are you going to see?
Me: The Social Network, you know, that Facebook movie.
No Space Man: Oh, I want to see that. Where are you going, Neshaminy Mall?
Me: Nah, I'm going to Grant Plaza because my friend lives right across the street from there.
No Space Man: Me too!
*** Ah, crap, I know where this is going. Please don't invite yourself. Please, please, please... ***
No Space Man: What time is your movie? I want to go too!
*** NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! ***
Me: Uhh... I'm not sure. I think it starts at 4:45.
No Space Man: Sounds good! I'll meet you there!
Except he didn't - because the movie started at 4:20! Muhahahahaha. There's no space for you at the movies, No Space Man!
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Fat Crosswalk Lady
I never made it to the bank. It took me a while to get home because I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while. So by the time I showered and got dressed, it was time to meet my friend at the movies. Fortunately, I didn't run into No Space Man.
I finally made it to the bank the following Thursday (I'm unbelievably busy with football from Sunday to Wednesday.) As I was talking to my bank manager, my cell phone rang. It was the alarm company notifying me that the burglary alarm in my house went off.
Now, before I move on, I have to mention something that happened two days earlier. The alarm system in my house makes a ring whenever a door or window is opened - even when it's not on. I find this pretty convenient, especially during parties or large gatherings.
However, that Tuesday, I was working on my NFL Picks when I heard the alarm ring. I live alone, and my parents usually call before they stop by, so I didn't know what caused the alarm to sound like that.
I thought of three possibilities:
1. A hot girl has raided my house and wants to take advantage of me. That would be awesome.
2. The development supervisor, who was supposed to stop by on Monday to make a few repairs but never did, let himself in because I had the music on and didn't hear the doorbell.
3. Someone who followed my picks last weekend lost all of their money and wanted to return the favor by stealing some of my things.
Of the three possibilities, No. 3 seemed the likeliest. The supervisor has my number and would just call me rather than let himself in (and I doubt he even has a key.) And unfortunately, hot girls normally don't go around raping guys.
Thinking someone was going to steal my flat-screen TVs, Pepsi Throwback or precious Lost DVDs, I grabbed the two best weapons I could find - a small knife and a vodka bottle. I searched my house, but found no one.
I then looked at the alarm code and went to the door that apparently wasn't closed. It actually was locked and closed, but it wasn't shut all the way. I pushed it in, and everything appeared to be fine. I shrugged it off, and went back to working on my picks.
Two days later, I received the aforementioned call at the bank. I asked the guy on the line which door was causing the problem, and his answer was what I suspected - it was the same door that had issues on Tuesday.
Still, I wasn't taking any chances. Rather than go to the gym and get eaten by fat women in the pool, I raced home. What if a horny hot girl needed my assistance? Hey, you never know.
Unfortunately, the usual 10-minute drive took me about 25 minutes because I was stuck at the same intersection for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally approached the traffic light, I noticed what was causing the delay. This fat, obscenely ugly crosswalk lady was walking everyone across the street.
Now, I wouldn't have minded if she just helped kids cross the street, but she was helping everyone - from 16-year-old high-schoolers, to middle-aged people, to an old man wearing a salmon shirt. Unperturbed by the angry people honking at her, Fat Crosswalk Lady was making sure every single person crossed the street and backing up traffic at a ridiculous rate in the process.
As I finally was able to make the right, I got a really good look at Fat Crosswalk Lady. She had a triple chin and sported a menacing look on her face. I wish I had a picture of her, but the best way I can describe her is this - just imagine if Andy Reid, Miss Piggy and Osama bin Laden had a baby, and that baby grew up to be a crosswalk lady. That's what Fat Crosswalk Lady looked like.
I finally arrived home, and after thoroughly searching my house again, I found nothing stolen. No burglars, angry degenerate gamblers or horny hot girls - just vivid memories of how ugly and mean-looking Fat Crosswalk lady was.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Facebook Snobs
Aside from having to pay $10 for the ticket and $5.25 for a soda, I really liked The Social Network. It was a pretty entertaining movie. Afterward, my friend Dale and I went to get pizza across the street. Two Jerk of the Week nominee-type moments resulted from this:
1. When I was eating, my friend Josh called me. I told him I saw the movie, and he said the following:
"Mark Zuckerberg reminds me a lot of you - you're both a**holes who own Web sites."
And Josh is my best friend dating back to when we were 5 years old. I feel like No Space Man right now.
2. After Dale and I finished off the pizza - NOM, NOM, NOM, NOM - the owner of the restaurant approached the table:
Owner: Excusea me, do you a need anything a else?
Dale: No. Why, do you need this table?
Owner: Ah yes, I have to make a you pizza for a different a customers.
Make more pizza for me, jerk - not anyone else!
But that Facebook movie got me thinking about something. I accept anyone who adds me as a friend on Facebook. Why is that? Because I'm not a stuck-up douche bag like some other people.
Back when I was 5, I met Josh through our mutual friend Joey. The three of us always hung out. After school, we'd go to Joey's house and play awesome video games like the Legend of Zelda, Super Mario Bros. 2, Kid Icarus, Blaster Master and so on. Hell, throw in a case of beer and I'd be content to do that now.
Joey moved away when we were 8. I saw him a couple of months afterward - his parents bought a huge house in the suburbs with a big pool. While there, I lent Joey my Excitebike Nintendo game, expecting to see him soon so he could return it to me.
Unfortunately, I haven't seen him since. It's been 19 years. For all I know, he could be a politician, a man-whore or a bum. Nothing would surprise me because I was going into fourth grade the last time I saw him.
After downloading Blaster Master onto my Wii and having a few beers one night this past summer, the thought occurred to me to look up Joey on Facebook. I found him, and I mentioned it in a Jerks of the Week entry four months ago.
However, he hasn't accepted me as a friend yet. In fact, he declined me. You know that "Awaiting Friend Confirmation" note in someone's profile when they've neither accepted nor declined your friendship request? Well, his disappeared, meaning he clicked decline. What a dick!
This really pissed me off. I mean, seriously, anyone who doesn't accept someone as a friend on Facebook is a serious douche. Think about it - what if this happened in real life?
Person 1: Hi, want to be friends?
Person 2: No. I'm declining your friendship request.
Person 2 is an obvious snob, and so is everyone on Facebook who declines friendship requests.
I was so angry at my former friend that I've since sent him about a dozen friendship requests, only to be declined each time. I'm doing this just to piss him off at this point. This guy's an a**, and I'm going to continue pestering him until he finally breaks down and accepts me as a friend. Hell, I'm going to add him as a friend yet again right now.
I've been thinking - why doesn't he want to confirm me as a friend on Facebook? I've come up with three possibilities:
1. Joey has become super rich, and he thinks I'm one of those people who wants to reconnect with him only because he's really successful.
2. Joey is related to one of the many fat football coaches I've ridiculed on this Web site over the years.
3. Joey doesn't want to return my Excitebike game.
Excitebike was awesome, so I'm thinking it's No. 3. Damn you, Joey, I want my game back!