I'm sorry, but the fact that you say the Browns passed on Wentz because they thought RGIII was better is the dumbest thing I've read, and so far from the truuth that it's downright ignorant. They made that trade because they felt the package of picks they got back in return was better than Wentz. Was it wrong to pass on Wentz? Probably. But saying they did it for RGIII is so wrong. They got a first round pick back (which they thought would be high, either way, its a first round pick) AND they still selected Cory Coleman, who looks to be a terrific WR. So yea, you lost a lot of credibility by saying they valued RGIII over Wentz. I'd actually like to know where you even got that idea from.
If you didn't read the previous two Jerks of the Week entries, I'm going to spend the next couple of weeks discussing the plethora of Jerks of the Jersey Shore I found while on vacation the week of July 11.
My hotel (technically a motel) had a pool. It wasn't very big or anything - maybe 15 by 8 yards - but it was very well heated (about 89 degrees) so I was content to spend the whole day in there. More importantly, I was able to spot plenty of jerks at the pool. There weren't any fat women who wanted to eat me like at my gym pool, however the Jerks of the Pool were nearly just as bad.
1. Pool Door Lady:
There was one fat lady at the pool. Before you accuse me of lying, I should note that she didn't seem to be interested in eating me. Instead, she wanted to make fun of me.
My room was on the second floor of the motel, so due to a design flaw, I had to go through the pool to access the staircase to reach my room. When I first arrived and checked in, I walked toward the pool for the first time. There was some sort of a gate door that looked like it could open, but I couldn't figure it out. At first I thought it was locked, so I carried my suitcase around the hotel and tried to find another staircase. There wasn't one, so I decided to give the gate door another chance. Five minutes later, I still was having issues getting it open.
Suddenly, I heard a very disturbing noise coming from the pool:
"HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM."
It was a fat lady, and she seemingly was highly amused that I couldn't open the gate.
Me: Hey, do you know how to open this?
Pool Door Lady: HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM.
Me: I can't figure it out.
Pool Door Lady: HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM.
This bald dude in his late 40s noticed that I was having issues. Unlike Pool Door Lady, he helped me out.
Bald Dude: Pull the black lever on top of the door up, turn the handle and then push the door open.
Me: Whoa. Thanks. It would have taken me hours to figure that out if you didn't help me.
As I said this, I stared menacingly at Pool Door Lady. She had one thing to say:
"HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM HWA HWA HWA HWA NOM NOM NOM NOM."
2. Unpaid Psychiatrist:
After coming back from Gilligan's Waterpark and striking out with the hot lifeguard there, my sister Jackie, my cousin Megan and I went to the hotel pool. It was close to 7, so there was no one in there besides us and one family.
This particular family had a chubby white father, an Asian mother, and two mixed teenage boys. They seemed pretty ordinary at first until the father had his sons race two laps. One of the sons beat the other, but Jackie felt like she had to inform the father that the winning son cheated.
Jackie: Hey, he cheated! He pushed off early.
Father: Ehhh... my other kid never had a chance anyway.
What a front-running a**hole. I guess he's putting all of his stock into one son. Damn the other son; he's doomed to be a failure, I guess.
At any rate, the father later started wrestling with his two sons. He held one of his sons underwater - the losing son - and yelled, "I AM NOT A PAID PYSCHIATRIST!"
OK? So what does that make you, an unpaid psychiatrist? Because I think you need to hire yourself a paid psychiatrist.
Soon afterward, Unpaid Psychiatrist climbed out of the pool. His two sons were still wrestling with each other. Unpaid Psychiatrist took this opportunity to whip out his fancy shmancy video camera. As the two sons pushed and pulled each other, Unpaid Psychiatrist videotaped them, giggling throughout the entire process.
You know, now that I think about it, I might be the biggest jerk of them all. Here's this deranged psychopath family trying to enjoy their vacation, and yet I'm making fun of them. Man, I suck.
Oh well. At least they can always look back at Unpaid Psychiatrist's home videos and reminisce about the good times, beating each other up and cheating in swim races down at good old Ocean City, N.J.
There were plenty of people swimming this time, including two kids and their fat grandmother. The fat grandmother threw large toy rings into the pool and then always said, "Tanner, go fetch the rings!" Tanner obeyed each time.
This is a fairly common sight at a family pool, so I didn't think anything of it. Eventually, Tanner and his brother started throwing a large beach ball around. That's when the madness began.
Tanner overthrew his brother on one occasion, prompting his fat grandmother to scold him:
"Tanner, make sure you throw the ball to him; not over him."
About a minute later, Tanner made another careless overthrow. Fat grandmother was a bit more agitated:
"Tanner, what did I say about throwing the ball to him?"
Almost immediately afterward, Tanner committed his third overthrow. His grandmother was irate:
"TANNER! THROW THE BALL AT HIM FROM NOW ON OR YOU WON'T BE SWIMMING ANYMORE!"
She was furious - just because of three careless overthrows. It was at this point that I decided to call her the Warden of Pool Games.
Tanner and his brother stopped throwing the ball around, opting instead to skid the ball across the surface of the water. This pleased the Warden of Pool Games.
"I like how the ball skids like that. Don't throw the ball anymore. Start skidding it on the pool from now on."
I half expected Tanner to salute the Warden of Pool Games and yell, "Aye-aye, sir!" He didn't say that, unfortunately, but he wisely followed the Warden of Pool Games' orders.
At any rate, I came to learn that this beach ball wasn't Tanner's; he borrowed it from some other kid at the pool. The Warden of Pool Games apparently was a fan of this particular beach ball, as I discovered when I overheard a conversation she had with another parent.
The Warden of Pool Games: Where did you get this beach ball?
Parent: The shop next to Jilly's Arcade.
The Warden of Pool Games: Oh, I'll have to look into that.
Look into that? It's a freaking beach ball. Well, I guess when you're the Warden of Pool Games, you have to take your job seriously.
I just feel sorry for Tanner and his brother. They're going to spend their entire childhood fetching rings and conforming to their grandmother's beach ball-throwing regulations. Sounds like they'll need the help of an unpaid psychiatrist in the near future.
4. William the Annoying:
The Warden of Pool Games wasn't the only person keeping Tanner and his brother from having a good time. There was a little boy in the pool as well - possibly 5 or 6 - and all he did was splash everyone in the shallow end.
This went on for about 20 minutes. This little turd just frolicked around the pool, splashed someone, and then moved on to the next person. Luckily, I was out of the pool at this point, relaxing comfortably in a reclining chair and reading Game of Thrones.
Eventually, one of the splash victims finally had to tattle. And I couldn't blame him - it was either do that, or get splashed in the face every 90 seconds.
Random Kid: Mom, this keep keeps splashing me!
Mother: Can you please stop splashing?
Little Turd: Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!
The little turd apparently didn't care for what that mother had to say. He continued his splash routine. However, after splashing Tanner for what seemed like the 12th time, the Warden of Pool Games saved the day.
The Warden of Pool Games: Tanner is trying to play a game here. Stop your splashing at once!
The Warden of Pool Games shrieked as she said this, finally drawing the attention of the little turd's parents:
"William! Get out of the pool, now!"
William the Annoying finally obeyed. He climbed out of the pool and went to his mother. As she scolded him about splashing others, he put his hands on his face and cried. The only way this could have been more satisfying for Tanner and the other kids at the pool was if Eric Cartman was there to lick William the Annoying's tears right off his face.
About 10 minutes later, when his parents were engrossed in a conversation, William the Annoying saw his chance. He threw his towel onto a chair and tried to sneak into the pool. He was on the second step when his mother finally noticed what was going on.
"WILLIAM!!! I SAID NO MORE POOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
William the Annoying burst into tears again. Sounds like yet another future client for the Unpaid Psychiatrist.
5. Tennis Ball Tyrant:
I was still reading Game of Thrones the following day at the pool when yet another screwed-up family caught my attention. The family was comprised of a mean-looking woman in her 40s, and her two chubby sons - one about 13, and the other about 8.
They caught my attention because the mother was being a b****. The two sons were just throwing a tennis ball to each other in the pool when their mother interrupted them.
Mother: STOP THROWING THE TENNIS BALL IN THE POOL! IT'LL HURT SOMEONE!
Ah yes, because the No. 1 leading cause of pool injuries are tennis balls. Way to lay down the law, Stalin.
The two sons pathetically obeyed their ruthless mother. They gave her the tennis ball and climbed out of the pool. Everything seemed normal after that until the 13-year-old kid randomly grabbed the tennis ball and jumped into the deep end. His younger brother was too scared to follow him into deep water. Instead, he cried and complained to his mother.
Little Brother: He tooook the teeeeeeniiiiss baaaaaaaaaaallll!!!!!!!!!!
Tennis Ball Tyrant: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THROWING THE TENNIS BALL IN THE POOL!?!?!??!
Older Brother: I'm not throwing it!
Little Brother: Teeeell hiiiiim toooo giiiiive iiiiiit baaaaack!!! The teeennis baaaaall iiiis aaaaalll I haaaaave!
Tennis Ball Tyrant: GIVE THE TENNIS BALL TO YOUR BROTHER NOW!!!!!
Older Brother would eventually return the tennis ball to his younger brother, but he took his good old time doing it. When Little Brother finally obtained the tennis ball, he beamed as if he were a fat woman who walked into an unattended Dunkin Donuts.
Sounds like more work for Unpaid Psychiatrist. At this point, he's going to be booked for the next 80 years.
6. Laugh Lady:
Later that day, I walked out of my hotel room and heard the most disturbing noise of all time. It sounded like a hyena was getting run over by a tractor.
I walked down the steps, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Two old people were lounging in the sun. A man was putting sunscreen on his fat wife's back. Several kids were playing a game in the pool, fortunate that the Warden of Pool Games was nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, I heard the noise again. It was coming from the sunscreen woman. Her husband said something to her, and she started laughing. Her laughter was really unbearable to listen to. It sounded like: "HehehehehahahahaHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
I had to endure Laugh Lady's horrifying laughter as I tried to read Game of Thrones. I couldn't concentrate. When she laughed, I wanted to grab a knife and slice my ears off. When she wasn't laughing, I had the uneasy feeling that she would begin laughing at any moment. It was very tense.
I gave up trying to read my book. I hopped into the pool instead, making sure I was on the opposite end of Laugh Lady. I guess I stopped paying attention, because the next thing I knew, Laugh Lady was slowly backing into me unintentionally as she was saying stuff to her husband. Her a** nearly collided with the front of my body. Fortunately, she turned around in time and said the following:
"I almost got to know you very well there, hehehehehahahahahaHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
I fake laughed as she swam back to her husband. When she turned around, I breathed a sigh of relief. I definitely did not want to "know" her very well. I actually don't know which of these three options would have been worse:
A. Getting to "know" her very well.
B. Enduring her laugh for decades, as her husband will have to do.
C. Getting eaten by her.
Based on my encounters with the many fat women at my gym pool, you may think that option C would have been the worst. Well, I disagree. Her laugh was so disturbing that I'm still haunted by it every night.
Does anyone know Unpaid Psychiatrist's number? I need to give him a call.