This is the most ignorant read of a post draft that I have ever seen. One pick in the 2nd round warrants a B and the first over all pick and draft and stash warrants a D. And no picks labeled a ubiquitous cop-out N/A...
To make things clear, my hotel (technically a motel) didn't have a restaurant. It was a pretty cheap place - about $170 a night - so all they served in the lobby was coffee. I could have splurged out for a fancier hotel for $350 a night, but I wasn't trying to impress anyone. All I needed was a bed, a heated pool and many jerks to mock.
1. Air Conditionings Man:
I seldom stay at hotels. In fact, the last time I booked a night was two years ago at my college roommate Dennis' wedding. Read all about that crazy night in my Live Wedding Retro Blog.
When I checked in and reached my room after struggling with the stupid pool gate for five minutes, I saw that someone left a couple of beige blankets on a chair outside of my room. I figured I'd just bring them in later; it was already 3 p.m., so I wanted to head to the beach.
After coming back from the beach with my sister Jackie and my cousin Megan, I asked them about the beige blankets.
Me: Hey, are those mine? Am I supposed to bring them into the room?
Jackie: Umm... I wouldn't touch those.
Me: Are you sure? What if they blow away, and then this hotel charges me like $200 for their lost beige blankets?
Jackie: I wouldn't risk it. Looks shady.
Well, after we came back from getting ripped off at Gilligan's Waterpark, we were shocked to see a Mexican man sitting on those very same beige blankets. The Mexican man, whom I will refer to as Air Conditionings Man, was startled upon seeing us.
Air Conditionings Man: I so sorry, so sorry, excuse preeze.
Me: Sorry for what?
Air Conditionings Man: I put blanket on your chair and I sit on dis chair, so sorry, so sorry, excuse preeze.
Me: It's fine. Don't worry about it.
Air Conditionings Man: So sorry, so sorry, excuse preeze, I sit in dis chair because I no want to sit in front of air conditionings.
Me: Air conditionings?
At this point, Megan looked at me and silently mouthed "Ohhhkaaaay?" clearly realizing that this man was completely out of his mind.
Air Conditionings Man: I no want to sit in front of air conditionings, so sorry, so sorry, excuse preeze.
Me: I'm not sure what you're talking about, but you can sit in my chair. I don't care.
Air Conditionings Man: No. No. I go. So sorry, so sorry, excuse preeze.
I'm still not sure what the hell that was about, but lesson learned - never touch any beige blankets you may find outside of your hotel room.
2. People on Phones:
When I came back from Ocean City, N.J., my mom asked me if I had a relaxing vacation. I couldn't say I did because I didn't sleep very well.
I had no problem getting to sleep, but I was constantly woken up at 7 a.m. by loud a**holes talking on cell phones outside my room. Since I usually go to bed between 2:30 and 3:30, I got only five or so hours of sleep each night.
The first morning, there was an obnoxious black guy outside my room. For about 30 straight minutes, I heard nothing but "yee... yee... yee..." It was like I was listening to some stupid Puff Daddy rap song. All that was missing was some corny "P. Diddy rollin' in the city" lyric.
It was even worse the next morning. Some guy was shouting nonsensical things at the top of his lungs. One thing I remember him saying was:
"I played field hockey in college then I went ter England ter play field hockey dere!"
Isn't field hockey for women? Not that there's anything wrong with men playing field hockey, but still. Eventually, I had enough. I mustered what energy I had and walked to the window. I pulled back the curtain and saw him - he was a silvery-haired man in his 60s wearing a Phillies t-shirt. He was leaning over the railing and just blabbering away on his cell phone.
I banged on the glass. He turned around and looked startled. I was tired and cranky, so I let him have it.
Me: No one gives a damn about your homoerotic adventures in England, a**hole!
Field Hockey Man: Sorry!
Field Hockey Man walked away, but I kept yelling even though he was out of earshot.
Me: If you want to discuss how some Brit field hockey players named Jeeves, Edmond and Pennington sucked your c*** in the locker room, do it somewhere else!
He didn't hear me, but I didn't care. Thanks to my rant, I slept peacefully for the rest of the morning.
3. Pancake Thief:
I went to various breakfast places during my stay at Ocean City. There was always one hot waitress at these restaurants, yet I was never lucky enough to have them wait on me. I always got the fat waitress, or the Skeletor-looking waitress, or the old waitress, or the waitress with the monstrous mole on her face. I swear, it was a conspiracy against me.
My first morning there, I went to a nice breakfast place. I tried to place an order, but had issues doing so.
Fat Waitress: What would you like?
Me: I'd like a tomato-and-cheese omelet, home fries, three pancakes, bacon and orange juice.
Fat Waitress: Are you sure? That's a lot of food for one person.
Me: Yeah, I can finish everything.
Fat Waitress: But the pancakes are pretty big, and the home fries are served in a large portion.
Me: No! I can do it!
How dare she question me? I can eat lots of food, and I figured if anyone would understand this, it would be a fat waitress.
She finally relented and served my feast 10 minutes later.
Fat Waitress: Do you need anything else?
Me: No! Go away! NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!!!!!
Forty-five minutes after this, I nearly devoured everything. All that was remaining was three-quarters of my final pancake. I was still eating, when this Guido bus boy who looked like he was straight out of MTV's Jersey Shore approached my table.
Bus Boy: Ey yo, you done wid dis pancake?
My mouth was full, so I couldn't respond with something like, "No, a**hole, I'm still eating it." Unfortunately, since I was chewing and couldn't answer his question, he took that as a yes and took away my pancake.
I'm sure Fat Waitress was pleased when she saw Pancake Thief carrying my unfinished pancake to the kitchen. In fact, I'm positive they had the following exchange:
Pancake Thief: Ey yo, he din't finish dis pancake. You say he won't finish dis pancake, ey yo.
Fat Waitress: MUHAHA ME KNEW MAN WOULD NOT FINISH PANCAKE NOW ME EAT PANCAKE NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!
I'm never eating there again.
4. Mushroom Cut Moron:
Excluding the one night where I ate at various places and had my French fry feast ruined by a bubble-blowing whore, I ate dinner at Prep's Pizza.
Mack & Manco is renowned as the best pizza joint at the Jersey Shore, but I have to disagree. Prep's Pizza, located at 10th and Boardwalk, edges out Mack & Manco by just a bit. If you ever try Prep's, however, stick with the plain. I'm not a fan of their pepperoni pizza, though I never had Mack & Manco's pepperoni, so I can't give you a comparison. If you are looking for great pepperoni pizza, I encourage you to try Station Pizza in Northeast Philadelphia. I have wet dreams about that stuff.
Hold on one second... I need to wipe the drool off my keyboard.
My mom and sister visited me on my last day at Ocean City. We went to Prep's for dinner, and as I sat at the table, looking forward to my meal, I spotted this unbelievably hot chick walk in with her family. I couldn't figure out her hair color because it was dark in there, but she was tan, wearing a short white shirt and a skirt. She had great legs.
I didn't know what to drool over - the pizza or her legs - but then I noticed that she and her father were doing something odd. Instead of just sitting down, they tested every single chair to see if it wobbled or not. Not just at the table - but the entire restaurant.
I'm not a fan of wobbling chairs, but they took it too far. She and her dad finally found chairs that didn't wobble after about 10 minutes of searching and testing. Well, whatever. She's hot, so she can do whatever she wants, whether that's seeking out good chairs, kicking sand in my face or killing toddlers.
Hot Legs Chick and her dad weren't the only people dining at that table. Several other of their presumed family members walked into Prep's including a boy of about 10 years old wearing an obnoxious orange t-shirt and sporting a horrendous mushroom haircut. I had a mushroom cut at that age too, but it was the 90s. At least I had an excuse.
Mushroom Cut Moron couldn't sit still. He bounced around the table, annoying everyone there. When he got to Hot Legs Chick, he asked her how old she was.
I listened closely. I really suck at determining ages, so I wanted to see if she was over 18, as I presumed when I first saw her.
Mushroom Cut Moron: How old are you?
Hot Legs Chick: How old do you think I am?
Mushroom Cut Moron: Ummmmmmm... 81?
Hot Legs Chick: You're right!
Idiot! This was my one chance to learn something about her - aside from her OCD regarding wobbling chairs - and this Mushroom Cut Moron ruined everything!
5. Ice Cream Hoarder:
Mushroom Cut Moron wasn't the only jerk at Prep's that evening. There were three people sitting behind me - a bald dude wearing a wife beater and sporting a goatee, and his wife and 12-year-old son.
I didn't think anything of them until my mom pointed out that the bald guy was the only one at the table eating something. I turned around, and sure enough, he was stuffing ice cream into his mouth while his wife and son stared hungrily at him.
I can only imagine the conversation that led up to this.
Ice Cream Hoarder: ME WANT ICE CREAM!!!
Son: Me too, dad! I want chocolate and vanilla.
Ice Cream Hoarder: YOU NO GET ICE CREAM!!!
Wife: Why, dear? We can all have ice cream together.
Ice Cream Hoarder: NO!!! ME EAT ALL ICE CREAM!!!
What an a**hole. I don't know why he didn't allow his family to eat ice cream with him, but they were clearly hungry. When he went to the bathroom, his wife grabbed the remaining ice cream and finished it off.
Ice Cream Hoarder came back from the bathroom minutes later. I made sure I saw his reaction, and it was a confused one. He scratched his head and asked, "Where'd my ice cream go?"
I can't see this ending well. If Ice Cream Hoarder ever learns the truth, I have a feeling that his marriage will end with a divorce or a homicide. Let's hope he's not reading this.
6. Alternate Universe Bathroom:
I wanted to go to the bathroom before we left Prep's. There were two people waiting ahead of me to use the unisex bathroom - a woman in her 40s and a little girl with blond hair and freckles.
No big deal, right? Two people shouldn't take that long, I thought.
Ten minutes later, I was still waiting for her the first lady to come out. Finally, the door opened. To my astonishment, the lady was now with two little girls - one white and one Asian.
I didn't see her walk into the bathroom with two little girls. They couldn't have appeared out of thin air, so I figured I just didn't see them walk in with her.
It was now the little blond freckled girl's turn to use the bathroom. I waited for five minutes, and nothing. I waited for 10 minutes, and nothing. An older woman, whom I presumed to be her mom, approached me.
Mother: Is a little blond girl in the bathroom?
Me: Yeah, she's been in there for a while though.
The mother knocked on the bathroom door, but didn't hear an answer. She then banged on the door, but still heard nothing but silence. She gave up and walked back to her table.
Five minutes after that, the blond freckled girl was still in there. Her mother came back and banged on the door again. Finally, the door opened.
Mother: What took you so long?
Little Girl: I dunno?
The little girl shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't understand what her mom was so stressed about.
Finally, it was my turn. All I had to do was piss, but based on what I had seen so far, I half expected the year to be 2025 when I exited the bathroom. Maybe I'd even have a pair of daughters as well.
I walked out of the bathroom what seemed like two minutes later. I was about to ask my mom if the year was still 2011, but I didn't need to. I immediately noticed that Hot Legs Chick and her family were gone.
Damn you, Alternate Universe Bathroom, and your time-sucking vortex. How dare you ruin the miniscule chance I had with Hot Legs Chick?
7. Seven Howes Kid:
I didn't just lie on the beach, drool over hot chicks, bathe in the pool, stuff my face with food, yell at inconsiderate a**holes outside my hotel room and strike out with the lifeguard at the waterpark on vacation. I also mini-golfed.
I love mini-golf. I think it's better than regular golf. I don't even know why people watch regular golf. What's the fun if there are no windmills, clown faces and frustrating ramps involved? Tiger Woods, in my opinion, deserves no credit for anything he's done in his career until he can shoot 10 under par at Congo Falls Adventure Golf.
Not that I can get 10 under at Congo Falls Adventure Golf or anything. I shot a hideous +9 with my mom and sister, but in my defense, I was in a food coma after devouring all that Prep's pizza.
Earlier that day, I had some time to kill, so I went mini-golfing at another place by myself. Everything was going smoothly until I got to the ninth hole. I was actually two under par, so I was proud of myself. However, I had to wait a while to go on Hole 9 because there were people in front of me.
I birdied Hole 9, but had to wait even longer on Hole 10. Hole 11 was worse - it took forever in comparison to Hole 10.
I finally noticed why there was such a delay. There was a family in front of me - a young married couple and their 7-year-old fat son. Whenever the kid messed up, they retrieved the ball and let him start over. He was seriously going four or five times on each hole.
I guess they saw my frustration because the fat kid's mother looked at me and said, "We're sorry!"
You better be sorry, a**holes. Don't you realize that I have places to be and hot chicks to stare at?
What really pissed me off about this was that the fat kid thought he was doing well. After luckily sinking a hole-in-one on Hole 15 - albeit on his third try - he proudly boasted, "I got seven howes in ones!"
I really wanted to say, "Shut up, liar. You're like 50 over par," but I didn't want to jinx myself. I was THIS close to getting 10 under par and surpassing Tiger Woods as the greatest golfer in the universe.
Unfortunately, my dreams shattered when I overheard some turd behind me brag, "I'm 12 under par! Yes!"
Oh well. Maybe I'm not the greatest golfer ever, but my -8 score says that I'm nearly as good as Tiger. Now, if only I could bang as many women as he does...
8. Water Gun Kid:
I wasn't the only one held up by Seven Howes Kid. There was the bragging douche behind me, and there was also another family that was comprised of a woman in her late 40s, a 14-year-old boy with bucked teeth and a 10-year-old girl.
It was really hot out, and I guess the 14-year-old (whom I'll refer to as Water Gun Kid) was getting restless waiting for the Seven Howes Kid to finish his turn. Water Gun Kid came up with an idea and shared it with his sister.
Water Gun Kid: We should have a water gun fight when we get back to the house.
Sister: But we don't have water guns.
Water Gun Kid: Yeah, we do!
Sister: No we don't!
Water Gun Kid: Ya-huh!
This went on for several minutes. Finally, the sister used her mother as an unbiased arbitrator.
Sister: Mom, do we have water guns?
Sister: See, told you so!
Water Gun Kid: But we can use the pots and pans from the kitchen as water guns!
Wow, awesome idea! Constantly filling up pots and pans from the kitchen with water and then splashing other people? Sounds like great fun. Not.
Seriously, how ghetto is that? Not that I'd expect anything different from the Jerks of the Jersey Shore.