This is probably the eleventy billionth time I've written about No Space Man. If this is the first time you're reading about this freak of nature, here's a quick synopsis:
No Space Man was given this nickname because his best friend disinvited him from a birthday party because there was "no space" for him.
No Space Man blatantly lied to me about how many laps he did in the pool; we both got in at the same time, and I lapped him about 10 times, yet he claimed he swam just as much as I did.
He invited himself to the movies with me. I gave him the wrong time on purpose. Muhahahaha.
Before I went swimming one day, No Space Man told me he forgot how many laps he swam. When I was done my workout and told him I swam a mile, he replied, "That's how much I did!"
To this point, I just considered No Space Man to be a very odd pathological liar with no friends. Now, I'm beginning to think that there's a much deeper issue at hand.
Two weeks ago, I was in the locker room. No Space Man was there fidgeting around with his phone. Perhaps he was texting his best friend to learn that there was no room for him at the next party.
The only other people in the locker room at this juncture were two kids, one about 14 and the other 10 or so. They apparently were brothers because they had the following argument:
Older Brother: You're adopted!
Younger Brother: No, you're adopted!
Older Brother: Nah-uh!
Younger Brother: Ya-huh!
I wouldn't have thought anything about this, but No Space Man began talking to the kids. He asked them completely random questions, like:
No Space Man: What kind of soda do you guys drink at the restaurant?
Younger Brother: Coke!
No Space Man: I don't like Coke. I like Sprite!
Older Brother: OK?
Younger Brother: I like Sprite too!
Older Brother seemed aware that No Space Man was some sort of weirdo. Younger Brother, however, was too young and naive, as you'll see by what happened next.
Suddenly, Younger Brother exclaimed, "I'm having trouble with my zipper!" He couldn't zip up his jeans. No Space Man noticed this.
No Space Man: Here let me help you!
Younger Brother: OK thank you!
Older Brother: Wait... wait... wait... don't help him.
Come on, No Space Man. Under no circumstances should any 26-year-old dude help a little kid zip up his pants. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I guess?
At any rate, I finished changing when I overheard the final exchange between No Space Man and the two brothers.
No Space Man: Hey guys, what are your phone numbers?
Older Brother (apparently thinking quickly): Uhh... I don't have a phone. It fell into the river.
*** Your phone fell into the river? How does that happen? It doesn't, so bravo, Older Brother! ***
Younger Brother: Na-uh! I don't have a phone, but his phone number is...
Older Brother slapped his forehead. Thanks to Younger Brother's naivety, No Space Man now had Older Brother's phone number.
Sorry, Older Brother. You'll now have to think of numerous excuses to avoid hanging out with No Space Man. Fortunately, telling No Space Man the wrong movie time works rather well.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Fat Sports Bra Chick
I saw No Space Man the following day. There weren't any young boys around, so he focused his attention on me.
No Space Man: Hey Walter! Are you going swimming?
No Space Man: The pool is closed!
Me: What? No it's not. I just came in through the pool deck.
No Space Man: Oh... haha, tricked you!
I can now fully understand why No Space Man's best friend ran out of room for him at his party.
Anyway, I went swimming. I completed half my workout when I noticed something moving above me. I stopped, and saw that someone was moving the lane line over. The person doing this was this obscenely fat chick. She was wearing an orange t-shirt with a black sports bra on top of it.
I've never seen this before. Why would any woman wear a sports bra over her shirt? Perhaps to catch the crumbs that fall out of her mouth?
Anyway, Fat Sports Bra Chick was moving the lane line over so some little girls could play in the pool. Fat Sports Bra Chick then said something to me. I only heard parts of it because I had water in my ears. I imagine it was something like:
NOM NOM NOM NOM, YOU MUST MOVE SO LITTLE KID CAN PLAY IN POOL IF YOU DO NOT MOVE I WILL EAT YOU NOM NOM NOM NOM.
Fearing for my life, I moved over two lanes. Before I began swimming again, I overheard the following conversation between Fat Sports Bra Chick's little girls and the male lifeguard working there:
Little Girls: YOU LOOK LIKE SHREK!!!!
Lifeguard: I look like Shrek? That's not very nice.
Fat Sports Bra Chick: HWA HWA HWA HWA!!!
Little Girls: NOOOOO YOU LOOK LIKE SHARK BOY!!!!
Lifeguard: Shark Boy? Where's that from?
Little Girls: FROM CHARLIE BROWN!!!
Umm... what? I don't ever remember there being a Shark Boy on Charlie Brown. I remember Linus, Lucy, Peppermint Patty, Pig Pen, Schroeder, the Great Big Pumpkin and the red-headed tramp Charlie Brown lusted after. But Shark Boy? What the hell is that all about?
I do have a possible explanation - it could be conceivable that Fat Sports Bra Chick steals the little girls' lunches every day and hides all the food in her sports bra. Then, when the little girls are preoccupied by the TV, she scarfs all the food down. The starved little girls, who become so delirious because they're deprived of their lunches, hallucinate when watching TV.
Yes. This is the explanation for Shark Boy.
When I finished swimming, the fat guy in the lane next to mine looked at me and said, "I'd rather have all the dead people in the pool than these little girls."
Now, this is a man who is thinking clearly. Apparently, Fat Sports Bra Chick hasn't been able to steal his lunch yet.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: 35th Anniversary
As you may know, I play basketball at my gym on Saturdays. I was not able to do this a week ago because the courts were closed all day Friday and Saturday.
I walked into the gym that Friday. I peered into the basketball court, and saw that there were tables and banners everywhere. It looked like they were having some sort of auction or charity event. I then saw my friend Mike, a gym employee, carrying some chairs around.
Me: What's going on with the basketball court?
Mike: There's some sort of 35th-anniversary party going on tomorrow.
What? Who the hell would have their 35th anniversary at a gym? That has to be the most unromantic thing ever. There are only two reasonable explanations for this:
1. The couple met on the basketball court at this gym and eventually got married - which is unlikely because the only female non-employees at the gym are fat, old women who want to eat me.
2. The couple is so old and senile that they don't even realize where their anniversary party is being held. Don't think this is possible? Consider the following:
Old Man: Hey shonny, where are my animal crackersh?
Old Woman: Who are you? What are you doing in my house?
Old Man: Weh? It was you who shtole my animal crackersh!
Old Woman: Look at this paper! It says there's a 35th-anniversary party this Saturday. I wonder whose party this is.
Old Man: I ain't going to no party until I get my animal crackersh.
Anyway, I finished working out and went up to the front desk to ask what was going on with this party. Of the two women sitting at the front desk, one was a young, hot blonde. The other was a fat lady with red hair.
Me (trying to act cool in front of the hot chick): What's up with this 35th-anniversary party?
Hot Chick: Did you see how it looks? It looks incredible!
Me (lying): Oh, umm... yes. Very incredible. Looks awesome.
Fat Woman: Yes, they did a great job.
*** What the hell? Why don't these two broads see that there's something wrong with having a 35th-anniversary party on a dirty basketball court? I finally couldn't take it anymore - screw trying to game the hot chick. ***
Me: Who has their anniversary at a gym though? Kinda weird, don't you think?
*** The fat woman looked appalled when I said this. Crap, was it her parents' anniversary or something? ***
Me: Umm... not that there's anything wrong with having a 35th anniversary on a basketball court.
Fat Woman: It's the gym's 35th anniversary.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh... That makes so much more sense.
Hot Chick: Haha, did you really think a married couple was having their 35th anniversary here?
Me: Yeah, I'm an idiot, what can I say? So, can anyone go to this?
Hot Chick: You need a ticket.
Me: A ticket? What's that run, 15, 20 bucks?
*** The fat woman looked appalled yet again. ***
Fat Woman: It's very expensive. They only sent out invitations to the wealthy people.
Me: Oh, so it's like 40 bucks then?
Hot Chick: No, it's $150.
Who the hell is going to pay $150 to go to a party at a gym? If I'm laying down that kind of cash, there better be strippers, a high probability of a threesome and lots of cheeseburgers.
Unfortunately, my gym doesn't provide those things. The first two items on the list are a long shot. We can't even get hot chicks to come to the gym to work out.
And the cheeseburgers? Unfortunately, Fat Woman and Fat Sports Bra Chick will polish those off before the party even begins.