Couldn't agree more. Berman is one of the top 10 (wait...let's double check ESPN's roster...), top 5 talents ESPN has. In fact, I propose a White House petition to bring back, back, back, back, back the Berman/Jackson NFL Primetime.
As I'm writing this, it's 6:20 p.m. on the East Coast. I just got back from Neshaminy Mall (right outside of Philadelphia). I went there to buy some stuff for my Halloween costume. I needed fake tattoos, fake jewelry and a case of gel. If you can't guess, I'm planning to be a Jersey Shore douche bag.
Fortunately, I saw two jerks at the mall worth writing about. The first was at the Halloween store. I found my fake tattoos and jewelry, and went to the counter. The chick at the register was a semi-attractive blonde, except she must have weighed like 75 pounds. Seriously, they could use her in those Christian Fund commercials where they guilt you into donating a second mortgage to help starving people in Africa, South America and Camden, New Jersey.
She rang up my items, which came out to be $13.75. Not bad at all for a Halloween costume. Last year, I spent $150 on an official Cobra Kai outfit (from Karate Kid - the original one, not the crappy version where Jackie Chan trains Will Smith's son.) It was a little pricey, but well worth it because it was legend... wait for it... by the way, you can see pictures of it here. Dary. Legendary.
Anyway, I reached for my money when the cashier asked, "Would you like to donate to the Juvenile Diabetes Awareness Fund?"
Ugh. I hate these things. What does that even mean? I need to give my money away so people can be aware of juvenile diabetes? How much money can it possibly take to make people aware of this? Can't they just make prisoners in jail make signs that say, "Be aware, kids can have diabetes!?"
So, I responded, "I dunno..."
I didn't even get to finish those two words when everything just froze around me. The blond cashier was in shock. The Mexican cashier next to her stopped counting the change in her register and stared at me. The two old women behind me stopped talking. The fat lady buying stuff at the other counter gasped. And no, she did not spot a taco on the floor.
I seriously didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive - all because I didn't want to donate an unknown sum of money to make people aware that juveniles have diabetes. Well, a-holes, I run a Web site, and I can let everyone know right now: HEY PEOPLE, SOME KIDS HAVE FREAKING DIABETES!!!
Unfortunately, all of these women didn't know this. Because I didn't feel like being swallowed whole by the fat lady to my left, I reluctantly agreed to donate money.
Me: Umm... I guess I'll do it. How much do I have to pay?
Donation Girl: It'll be $1.
Me: Oh, phew, that's it? I thought it was going to be a lot more.
Donation Girl (looked at me like I'm an idiot): No, it's just $1.
Hey, $1 can buy a lot, according to those McDonald's commercials - NOM NOM NOM NOM - but I'll gladly pay that fee if it keeps me out of a fat lady's belly.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Gay Nail Guy
There are many things I hate about the mall. These include:
1. Prostitots: The 13- and 14-year-old girls who run around wearing no clothes and tons of make-up. They travel in packs and playfully run up to random dudes to tell them that they like them. These prostitots aren't real humans; they spawn wherever malls are built and crawl into holes at night when the mall closes.
2. Fat Ladies in the Food Court: Only because they're stealing the food I should be eating.
3. Survey People: There are always random people at the mall who stop you and ask if you'd like to fill out a survey for them. I've only agreed to do this once, and when I did, the woman said, "Follow me to my office, it'll take 25 minutes."
That seemed pretty shady. I backed out and made some sort of excuse about having to go to work. What office? Why do you have an office at the mall? You mean the broom closet where five big janitors will gang rape me? No thanks.
4. Food Sample People: These are usually Asian people who stand in the food court and make you try their samples. As a man who likes food, you'd think I'd be a fan of these people. I'm not.
I can't explain it, but I don't really trust these Food Sample People. What if some deranged lunatic dressed up as one of these guys and laced his food with the Ebola virus? Our government is so concerned about terrorists on airplanes, but they really should be focused the Food Sample People at the mall.
5. Booth Harassers: These people are the worst. They're the ones manning the booths in the middle of the mall and yelling stuff out like, "Hey you, what kind of phone service do you have? Come here to switch to Verizon!"
The worst of the worst was Gay Nail Guy. I was actually texting myself as a reminder about what happened in the Halloween store when this dark-skinned guy in his mid-20s stopped me.
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! Is that your phone, oh my God!
Me: What? This? Yeah, it's my phone.
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! I can't believe that is your phone, oh my God!
Me: What? Why?
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! Look at your phone compared to my, oh my God! My phone is so big to compared to your phone, oh my God!
*** It was true. He had an iPhone, and I have the Verizon Juke. The Juke looks crappy and has T9, but it's the best phone I've had. It gets service everywhere. I'd probably get a full signal in that fat lady's stomach. And it's not like I know how to do anything besides call and text. ***
Me: Well, I like my phone. It works.
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! I should hope so. When did you get this phone, must have been mmm... five or six years ago, I would guess.
Me: I actually bought it two years ago.
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God, wow, oh my God, oh my God, wow, oh my God.
*** Ugh, what do you want from me? Stop insulting my phone and leave me alone! ***
Gay Nail Guy: How old are you?
Me: I'm 28.
Gay Nail Guy: Ohhhhh myyyyyy Gooooooood.
Gay Nail Guy: Let me see your nails.
Me: My nails? Why?
*** Gay Nail Guy grabbed my hand. Not that there's anything wrong with that! ***
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! Your nails are not so shiny. I can make it so your nails are very shiny.
Me: Nah, nah, nah, I don't want shiny nails.
Gay Nail Guy: Oh my God! You won't even know it's your hands anymore! Oh my God, you will make a great first impression, oh my God!
Me: Nah, I don't think so, pal.
Gay Nail Guy: It's free. Oh my God, your nails will look so good, oh my God.
I actually yelled this out. A completely shocked Gay Nail Guy was taken aback and finally gave up. Maybe I should have used this reaction at the Halloween store. I could have saved my hard-earned dollar that way.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Jerks with Awesome Kelly
The Fountain of Youth. Unicorns. Hot women who like football. These are three things known to only exist in fiction. Well, not anymore, for I have found a hot chick who likes football.
By "liking football," I'm not talking about some girl who wears the local team jersey and goes to games just to tailgate. I'm talking about a chick who plays in six fantasy football leagues and several survivor pools every year (click on the link for a picture.)
If you've been reading this Web site for a while, you may have noticed that I've mentioned someone named Awesome Kelly in Arizona. Prior to last weekend, I had never met Kelly in person; she was a random friend who added me on Facebook. We talked a lot over the past year, and she finally flew in from Arizona to visit me.
*** OK, her brother lives here in Philly, and he and his wife just had a kid, but let's pretend that Kelly just came out to visit me. ***
Kelly and I hung out on Friday and went to Whiskey Tango for drunken fun that night. Throughout the course of the day, we spotted four jerks.
1. Wellness Card Man: Kelly and I ate dinner at Station Pizza. The place is disgusting, and looks like it's crawling with bugs and rats, but it's home to the best cheesesteaks in Philadelphia. As a man who knows food, believe me on this.
Afterward, I wanted to stop in at Rite-Aid. As I mentioned in an entry about a month ago, I'm addicted to Dove Dark Chocolates, and I need to consume about 10 a day to survive.
I brought the Dove bags to the register. The guy behind the counter angrily looked at the bags and yelled, "You can't get the discount price without your wellness card!!!"
I thought it was just me, but Kelly immediately said something about it as we exited the store.
Kelly: That guy was ridiculous. Why was he so angry? Is it that big a deal that you don't have a Wellness Card?
Me: I don't know. When he started with, "You can't get..." I thought he was going to say, "You can't get these."
Oh man, I don't even want to think about it. If I didn't have my Dove Dark Chocolates I probably would have jumped off my roof, leaving Kelly to explain to my parents why I ended it all.
2. Looking for You Man: Kelly and I hit up Whiskey Tango a few hours later. There were no racist bikers present that night; just the typical white-trash scumbags and hoes.
Kelly and I were sitting at a table when we noticed a tall, angry guy yelling at some chick. The music was blaring, so all we could make out was, "I was lookin' for you all over da place!"
These two people yelled back and forth for the next 10 minutes. We couldn't hear what they were saying, so I gave Kelly my version of the play-by-play. As you might be able to tell below, we had just watched the South Park Jersey Shore episode.
Looking for You Man: I was lookin' for you all over da place!
Chick: I want smoosh smoosh!
Looking for You Man: Ya f***in' cabbage!
Chick: I want to smoosh, and then I want to smoosh!
Looking for You Man: Ya muff f***in' cabbage!
Considering we were in a bar in Northeast Philadelphia, it's a fair assumption that these two were saying something very close to that.
3. The Wrastler: Toward the end of the night, two of the white trash goons at the bar started getting a little too rough. This tall lanky guy and a fat dude began fake fist-fighting. It looked like they were playing around at first, but things became heated. Eventually, someone had to separate them.
The tall lanky guy, who was drunk out of his mind, noticed Kelly.
The Wrastler: I'm goin' wrastle with my buddy!
Kelly: He didn't look like your buddy there.
The Wrastler: No! We goin' wrastle! We always like to wrastle!
Kelly: That's great.
The Wrastler: You should watch us wrastle!
Kelly: No, I don't think so.
The Wrastler: Bet $10 on me! I'm goin' wrastle with my buddy, and you should bet $10!
This really confused me. Was there some sort of sportsbook in charge of this wrastling match? Who would Kelly pay the $10 to? Who was going to pay her if The Wrastler won?
You may wonder why these two idiots were "wrastling" in the first place. Well, that's just how people settle arguments in Northeast Philadelphia.
4. Cigarette Picker-Upper: The bar closed at 2, and Kelly and I walked home (Whiskey Tango is a 10-minute walk from my house.) As we crossed the street, we spotted a fat guy bent over. Upon further inspection, he was picking up cigarette butts off the ground.
Look, I'm all for helping the environment, but who the hell picks up cigarette butts at 2 a.m.? I think there are more efficient ways to help Earth become a cleaner place.
I was going to ask this guy what the hell he was doing, but Kelly stopped me.
Kelly: Don't talk to him. It could be a scam.
A scam? Hmm... maybe she was right. Here are three possible things Cigarette Picker-Upper may have said:
1. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Benjamin Guei, head magistrate of the Cote D'Ivore. Unknown rebels have killed the royal family, and now it is you who are the beneficiary of $50 million U.S. Please give me your name, country and bank account number so we can complete this transaction."
2. "Hello, my name is Joy. I am fun-loving man who likes to daydream, cuddle and take long walks on the beach. I have contacted you because I like your profile. Please e-mail me so we can continue our romance, for I feel we have found true love."
3. "You may be asking what I'm doing right now! I'M GETTING RICH! With my new cigarette-butt extractor, NOW YOU can find gold coins hidden in cigarette butts! THOUSANDS of Americans like yourself have found gold coins hidden in cigarette butts! Just listen to our testimonial from a real customer!
Hi, I found gold coins in a cigarette butt, and now I live in a mansion. Thank you cigarette-butt extractor!
Now, the cigarette-butt extractor can be YOURS for $29.95. Give me your money now, and I'll throw in a beer-bottle searcher which will help you find jewelry hidden in discarded beer bottles, ABSOLUTELY FREE! This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, so give me your money NOW!!!"
Argh, Kelly, this was my one chance to become obscenely rich. Damn it!