My first edition. Only one trade. I make picks using multiple big boards from different sites, and my own scouting. I try to fill needs as best as possible. This will change when FA moves define themselves.
I didn't go to my old gym for about a month prior to two weeks ago. I haven't had to avoid the fat ladies who want to eat me, and I haven't seen No Space Man attempt to Sandusky random little kids in the locker room. Instead, I've been going to the new gym for the cleaner pool, hotter chicks, better schedule and slimmer pool patrons.
But I thought it might be a good idea to visit my old gym. The pool at my new gym was 81 degrees the day before, which is way too cold for me. What can I say? I'm a craven when it comes to cold stuff. For instance, I always like to keep my house at 73 degrees - even when I'm not home. Some say I waste energy. Well, if I don't waste energy, who will? There are so many green-initiative douche bags out there that there must be some sort of balance. That's right - WalterFootball.com is going brown!
So yeah, no 81-degree pool for me. The pool at my old gym is always maintained at 86 so that the fat women can freely move about and snare unsuspecting swimmers. Luckily, I'm a seasoned pro when it comes to avoiding them, so they'll never catch me unawares.
I wouldn't bump into any fat women on that day, but I would see a fat man. He was sitting in the lobby when I walked in. He had long white hair and an even longer white beard. He basically looked like Moses, only this imposter was wearing a white t-shirt with mustard stains on it that read, "Now you know what the world's best grandpa looks like."
Hmm... I guess so. My grandpa was cool, but he never parted any sea, as far as I know.
At any rate, I swam my mile without anyone bothering me. That, unfortunately, was not the case in the locker room. There were all of these kids there when I walked back from the pool. The local school rents out the pool from 3:30 to 4:30 each day - yet another reason I joined another gym - and these kids were getting ready for practice.
Nothing out of the ordinary was going on - No Space Man was not there to get their phone numbers - but as I was just about ready to head to the steam room, one of the kids asked another a question:
Kid 1: Have you seen my goggles?
Kid 2: No.
Kid 1: I know where they are!
Kid 2: Where?
Kid 1: They're in my pants!
Kid 2: Goggles in your pants?
Kid 1: Goggles in my pants!
Before I could figure out what the f*** just happened, they actually broke out into song about this. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. It was like watching a really bad episode of Glee, which is saying something because all of episodes of Glee make me want to slice off my ears with a rusty knife.
Jerry Sandusky may have stuck around to enjoy the show, but I went to the steam room. As I was trying to process why the hell two kids would sing a song about goggles in the pants, Moses Man walked in. The four people sitting on the opposite bench moved so he could sit down. It was weird. Two of them shifted toward the left, while the other two scooted over to the right. Holy crap, Moses Man parted the bench!
OK, that didn't happen, but it would have been cool if it did. The opposite bench was empty. It was just me and Moses Man in the steam room.
Since this occurred at my old gym, something strange had to occur, right? If you guessed "yes," then you just won 50 bonus points.
Moses Man stood up after about two minutes. I thought he was going to stretch or something, but he reached into his shorts. I almost said, "Look, dude, I know you're the world's best grandpa, but that doesn't mean you can whack off in the steam room."
Moses Man pulled something out of his shorts. It wasn't his wang, and it wasn't a pair of goggles either. It was a tube with a toothbrush inside. Moses Man unscrewed the tube and took the toothbrush out. He produced a small tube of toothpaste from his pocket and begun brushing his teeth - right there in the steam room.
All I can say is, thank God those annoying kids weren't there with us in the steam room. Otherwise, I would have had to listen to another God-awful song about toothbrush in the pants.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Senile Man
I almost forgot to mention that there were two people of note at the pool.
The first was the MILF swim coach I mentioned back in October. She came out onto the deck when I was two-thirds through my mile. When I was finished swimming, I noticed that she looked at me twice when I was getting my stuff.
Score! Unfortunately, I didn't get to talk to her or anything because she was speaking with one of her swimmers at the time. This particular swimmer was a little Mexican girl, who would undoubtedly need swimming tips in the event of deportation. I definitely didn't want to interrupt anything so serious. As much as I wanted to game the hot, blond MILF, I'm not going to risk the life of a poor Mexican girl to do so. I'm not selfish.
Earlier, when I was getting ready to start my mile, I spotted an old man in his mid-late 70s floating in the baby pool. He wasn't moving at all, so I assumed that he was a corpse that the lifeguard hadn't cleaned out yet. He wasn't there when I completed my mile though, so I figured he was still alive. That, or he was roaming around the gym, eating live humans and transforming them into zombies. Hey, it happened in AMC's The Walking Dead, which is based on a true story.
Following the events of Moses Man and Toothbrush in the Pants that occurred in the steam room, I took a quick shower - with my swim trunks on, of course - and then got dressed. I was putting my shoes on when aforementioned corpse walked by. I'd like to call him Senile Man, based on the brief "conversation" I had with him...
Senile Man: How are you doing?
Me: Good, you?
Senile Man: How are you doing?
Me: Umm... I'm good, you?
Senile Man: How are you doing?
Me: I'm OK.
Senile Man: How are you doing?
Me: Ugh. Fine.
Senile Man turned the corner in the locker room, but continued to mutter, "How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?" to himself despite the fact that no one was there.
See, I knew those jerks at AMC got it wrong. The zombies in the Atlanta area never were such savages. They always asked their victims how they were doing before eating their brains out.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Saladworks
A new Saladworks just opened near my house. I received a coupon in the mail for a $5 salad on opening day, which happened to fall on the aforementioned events at my old gym. So, I thought I'd hop on over and get a cheap Buffalo Blu salad for dinner.
There were 12 people in line when I walked into the brand new Saladworks. I absolutely hate waiting in line for anything, but it wouldn't take that long with only a dozen people ahead of me, right?
If you guessed "no," you just won 50 bonus points. The line barely moved 20 minutes later. Meanwhile, there were now about 20 more people in line, including two attractive girls, one of whom was directly behind me. She had really pale skin, but was somewhat cute. She was a brunette, though it seemed like her hair was dyed.
*** By the way, I should note that there were no fat people at Saladworks. If you're looking to meet a hot chick at a restaurant, try Saladworks. You know the people there are mindful of what they eat. If, however, you're a chubby chaser, you can try more common eateries like McDonald's. A tip: Make sure you don't smell like food, or the girl you're trying to game may devour you by accident. ***
We still weren't moving very much. It was ridiculous - and even more so when we inched close enough to see what was going on behind the counter. There were at least 15 workers there, yet they couldn't take care of the customers. What the hell was going on here?
On the bright side, this did give me an opportunity to say something to Dyed Hair Chick.
Me: With all of those people they have behind the counter, you figure this would be a lot quicker.
Dyed Hair Chick: Yeah, seriously, what the hell are they doing?
Me: I feel like the people ahead of us are ordering lobster.
Dyed Hair Chick chuckled, but the guy behind her, a bald man in his late 30s wearing a suit and a pink tie (not that there's anything wrong with that) burst out laughing.
The Saladworks employees continued to chaotically rummage around behind the counter. There was a lot of yelling and confusion. Half the employees were frantically dumping random things into bowls, while the other half just watched, looking clueless. I took advantage of this with another joke.
Me: Those people look like they're prepping for surgery or something.
Pink Tie Man: BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
It figures I'd have more game with the bald guy with the pink tie than the somewhat attractive girl. Seriously, why couldn't the person wearing the pink tie have been a girl? I think I could be into that.
Minutes later, we were creeping closer to the counter. There were only three people ahead of us at this point. That's when this Saladworks employee chick walked over to us and offered sample sandwiches. Neither Dyed Hair Girl nor Pink Tie Man took the sandwiches, as they eyed them suspiciously for some reason. Being a fat man, I snatched one as quickly as possible.
The sandwich looked great. It was dripping with cheese and stuff, so it was obviously very healthy, since cheese has lots of Vitamin C and Vitamin X. I took a bite and... it was good... meh, it was actually just OK... eh... not so good... blegh!!!
It was disgusting. I spat it out onto a napkin that the sandwich wench gave me.
Me: Yuck! What is this, a cheese and vomit sandwich?
Pink Tie Man: BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Damn you, Dyed Hair Girl, laugh at my jokes!
While I was thinking of something clever to say, an older Saladworks employee approached us with slips. He asked each of us what we wanted, filled out the slips and then handed it to the people behind the counter.
I've never been to a Saladworks like this. The one I used to go to, which takes a while to drive to because of horrible rush-hour traffic, never had slips. I would just tell the people behind the counter what I wanted, and the salad would ready in 45 seconds or so.
But not here. The guy behind the counter who took my slip was a tall dude. He read the slip, but appeared confused by it.
Tall Saladworks Guy: No peppers!?
Me: Yeah, no peppers.
Tall Saladworks Guy: No peppers!
Saladworks Employee B: No peppers!
Saladworks Employee C: No peppers!
Saladworks Employee D: No peppers!
Tall Saladworks Guy: No peppers?
Old Saladworks Guy: No peppers!
Tall Saladworks Guy then looked at me.
Tall Saladworks Guy: Sir, there are no peppers on the Buffalo Blu Salad to begin with.
Me: What? I always have to ask for no peppers at the other Saladworks.
Tall Saladworks Guy: There are no peppers on the Buffalo Blu Salad.
Me: That's OK, just don't put them on.
Tall Saladworks Guy: But sir, there are no peppers on the Buffalo Blu Salad.
It took about two minutes, but we finally moved past the whole pepper ordeal. Tall Saladworks Guy handed my salad off to another employee. Apparently, they were running this like an assembly line. It would have been much quicker if one employee handled each salad, but these people were so new at this that the manager probably assumed they could only handle one task.
The guy who took my salad was in charge of the chicken and salad dressing, apparently. He was a really skinny kid - he seriously looked like he weighed 90 pounds - and had tons of acne on his face.
I would have felt bad for this kid if he wasn't such a niggard with the chicken and salad dressing. He seriously put just three small pieces of chicken and a few drops of salad dressing into my salad. I wouldn't have any of that.
Me: No, no, no, I need more chicken and salad dressing!
He was so taken aback by what I said, almost as if he was amazed that someone could eat more than three small pieces of chicken. I almost wanted to say, "Hey, kid, not all of us can get blown away by a gust of wind," but that would have made Pink Tie Man laugh, and I didn't want to give him the impression that I was trying to game him.
It took me a half a f***ing hour, but I finally got my salad. As I walked out, I held the door for two older women, who immediately noticed that the line wrapped around the entire place.
Old Woman: Is the line seriously that long? How long do you think it'll take to order a salad?
Me: Well, the line was almost a third as short when I was there, and it took me 30 minutes to get my salad. It could be an hour-and-a-half wait for you.
Old Woman: Oh dear.
Me: Yeah, by the time it's your turn to order, the lettuce will probably be rotten, and they'll have to order more from the farm.
Old Woman: BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Damn it. Everyone likes my stupid jokes except for attractive women.