So what if Zeke is a rookie? And they didn't draft him #4 overall, given that he's a prototype 3-down back, to have him in a timeshare with Morris or McFadden. Behind that line, coupled with his skills as a runner, receiver, and pass blocker, there's no way he should fall past the first round.
There's something weird going on at my local bar. And no, I'm not talking about how the Racist KKK Bikers shout racial slurs at minorities, or all the random STDs that Drunkest Woman Ever hands out in the parking lot.
The bar used to be called Whiskey Tango. They closed it down in September and reopened it as Philly 4, which was supposed to be more of a sports bar-type scene. That place lasted only three weeks. They closed the bar yet again, and after a 2-month hiatus, it came back as just "Tango."
Confused? Well, so was I, which is why my friends and I wanted to check out the new place to see if it got any better. And it did. We walked in without getting carded or having to pay a cover charge - a reason why Whiskey Tango and Philly 4 failed. They charged $8 and $5, respectively, which was ridiculous because it was trying to act like a hip downtown bar, when it's just a place in Northeast Philly right across the street from the suburbs.
A few thoughts on carding and covers:
1. Carding people is stupid. The drinking age in the U.S. is 18, which, quite frankly, is way too high, but I'm sure the bartenders can decide if someone looks 18 or not. Bartenders are some of the wisest people in the world, so they should have full discretion.
2. Charging covers is stupider. The idea of it is so distasteful to anyone, even the drunkest of people. It's like saying, "Our place is so awesome that we're going to have to ask you for money for the privilege of being in our establishment for a couple of hours." F*** you, douche bags.
3. You know what I would do if I were running a bar? I'd charge people $2 cover, but say that it's all going to hurricane victims, or hungry kids in Africa, South America, or Camden, N.J. People would be down for paying that so they could feel good about themselves. But then, I'd secretly not give the money to anyone and just pocket all the money myself! Muhahahahaha!
4. Whiskey Tango has been charging an $8 cover for years. How the hell did Drunkest Woman Ever afford that, you ask? Well, we need to discover how much she charges for blow jobs in the parking lot to know for sure. You gotta figure that she gets about $1.50 per customer, so did she really give head five-and-one-thirds times each night just to get into the bar? If so, that's some amazing dedication.
Anyway, we all agreed that Tango was better. In addition to not having to pay cover, it was quieter so people could talk. There were also more games available, like darts, video golf and a machine with a speed bag that measured how powerful your punches are. We first noticed the speed bag when a couple of college guys started hitting it.
"I think that machine is a bad idea," I told everyone. "I bet you that's going to lead to a fight."
Sure enough, the two college guys were wrestling on the ground about an hour later. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
As you may guess, these guys weren't the strangest people in the bar. Not even close. We didn't spot Drunkest Woman Ever (she was probably passed out in a ditch somewhere), but we did manage to see Santa Claus.
There was a guy there who looked exactly like Santa. He had the long white hair and beard going, and he was super fat. He was just drinking a beer while sitting by himself at the bar. I had the urge to sit on his lap and tell him what I wanted next Christmas, but this didn't seem like a good idea after the Jerry Sandusky scandal.
There were also weird people coming in and out of the band area. Tango charged $10 entry for this area for people who wanted to see the band. No one in our group was willing to pay $10, but I decided to check it out for Jerks of the Week purposes. After spending five minutes in there, I came back with a full report to my friend A-Team. Unfortunately, my ears were bleeding because it was ridiculously loud in that room.
A-Team: How was it in there?
Me: My ears... my ears... covered in blood... ahhh!!!
A-Team: Is it worth going in?
Me: What? Well, there are some positives and negatives.
A-Team: Like what?
Me: Positive - there's a hot bartender in there.
Me: Negative - there's also a hot bartender in here, thus nullifying the hot bartender in there.
Note: The super-hot bartender in the sports bar area eerily looks like a chick I dated in college. This is yet another reason why Tango is my new favorite bar.
Me: Positive - there's a hot chick swaying back and forth in there.
Me: Negative - people are just standing around and not doing anything while listening to bad music.
A-Team: So it's not worth the $10?
Me: Not sure. The girl who was swaying back and forth was kinda hot.
Anyway, I did mention that there were weirdoes coming in and out of the band area. One guy shall be referred to as Christmas Tree Man. He was in his late 50s and had tattoos all over his neck. He easily was one of the most disgusting human beings I had ever seen, and it didn't help that he was drunk out of his mind. When he saw my friend Adrienne, he had to say something.
Christmas Tree Man: Yeewww lloookkk lliiikkee a Chrriiisssmuuss treeee hic!
Christmas Tree Man: Yeerr shiiirtt izz alllll spparrrkkkllunnnnn hic!
Adrienne: Oh. Thanks, I guess.
Christmas Tree Man: Yeerr weelllccommmee chirrsssmmuusss trrreee gguuurllll hic!
Adrienne's shirt was a bit sparkly, but it was silver and white, if I remember correctly. There was no green involved, so I don't know why the hell Christmas Tree Man thought she looked like a Christmas tree.
Then again, I should be fair. Christmas Tree Man was probably so perturbed that Drunkest Woman Ever wasn't around to give him a random STD in the parking lot that he just was completely confused.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Mia
There were four reasons why I was looking forward to going out to Tango that Friday night. In addition to checking out the new place, I wanted to drink heavily and hang out with my friends. The fourth reason was that my friend Jess was bringing a hot chick to the bar.
As you may recall, Jess promised that she would find a future wife for me because she wants to see Little Walters running around. She has been unsuccessful thus far, but when she mentioned that her friend Mia would be coming out with us on AIM a couple of days earlier, it piqued my interest.
Me: Who's this Mia? Why hasn't she been out before?
Jess: Scheduling conflicts, I think.
Me: Is she hot?
Jess: I'm not sure what you'll think. I'll give you her Facebook profile.
Me: Sounds like a big, fat "no" to me.
I was still curious, so I looked - and man, she was hot. And single too! I was anxious to meet this Mia, but as Friday night approached, I got the feeling that she was a fabrication. I mean, how could a hot girl be single? Men have been looking for hot, single women throughout history, and have always failed. It's like looking for mythical creatures like unicorns, the Loch Ness Monster and Eskimos. They only exist in fiction; not reality.
We arrived at the bar around 10:50. It would soon be 11:30, then midnight, then 12:30, then 1... and yet, no Mia. I continued to badger Jess about it, but she kept repeating that she didn't know where Mia was even though Mia left her a Facebook message saying that she was on her way.
I told Jess to call Mia. When she did, a telephone operator said, "Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again." I knew it - Mia was fake.
We all played Truth or Dare near closing time. The boxing machine quickly got old, there were barely any hot chicks to look at, and my friend Body Burners kept thinking of ways to become a Jerk of the Week, asking if he would make the cut if he spilled his beer all over me. So, Truth or Dare was our best option. Besides, it can be kind of fun when drinking.
Angry that I was deceived into thinking a rare thing such as a hot, single female would be coming out to the bar, I would ask Jess to pick truth or dare whenever it was my turn. Here's how it went:
*** Turn 1 ***
Me: Truth or dare?
Me: Is Mia real?
Me: You lie! Drink!
*** Turn 2 ***
Me: Truth or dare?
Me: Is Mia fake?
Jess: You already asked that question!
Me: No! I asked if Mia was real. Now I'm asking if she's fake.
Jess: No, she's not fake.
Me: You lied again! This is not False or Dare!
*** Turn 3 ***
Me: Truth or dare?
Jess: Ugh, pick someone else!
Me: Truth or dare!?!?
Me: When did you create this Mia persona?
Jess: I didn't create Mia!
Me: You lied again! Drink!!!
*** Turn 4 ***
Me: Truth or dare?
Jess: Dare! Ha, now you can't ask me if Mia's real or fake.
Me: I dare you to tell me that Mia is fake!
Jess, if you're reading this, I hope you know I was kidding. Even though Mia's phone conveniently didn't work, I believe that she's real. Then again, I kind of believe that unicorns, the Loch Ness Monster and Eskimos are real too, so that's not really saying much.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Hollywood
I've thought about how a hot chick like Mia can possibly be single, and I've come to a conclusion - it's the Window Theory.
For those who don't watch How I Met Your Mother, in one Season 5 episode, Ted, the protagonist, asks an old lady who lives next to a hot chick to tell him when the "window" is open - i.e. the brief period in which she's single.
As I always say, TV is more realistic than real life, so there is definitely some truth to this. While it might be impossible to find unicorns, the Loch Ness Monster and Eskimos, a hot, single girl can be unearthed - but only if you're lucky enough to be around when the window is open.
It's tough to find an open window. For example, this girl I was into dated this dweeb for a long time. They finally broke up about a year ago, which got me excited during a party of mine:
Me: Hey, where's Hot Chick's boyfriend?
Friend: Oh, they broke up.
Me: Yeeeeessssssssssss!!!!!!!!!! Wooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!! The day is mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friend: Jeez, calm down. You don't have a shot with her.
Me: What? Why not? Am I too fat? Did she see a booger on my face when I spoke to her?
Friend: No, it's because she has a new boyfriend.
Friend: I'm sorry, Walt.
Me: Why didn't you tell me about the window? Why didn't you tellll meeeeee!?!?!? Aaahhhhhhh!!!!!
I still have nightmares about this horrifying chain of events, though I was so drunk at the time that I don't recall who that friend was. If you, "friend," is reading this conversation, please understand how mad I am at you. Not telling a buddy when the window is open is one of the worst acts of friendship treason you can commit, outside of stealing his Tootsie Pops.
Finding the window is difficult enough, but some women have to make it even more challenging. Jess told me about a month ago that she was hanging out with some friends one night, one of whom was hot. The following conversation ensued:
Me: Is this girl a wife candidate for me?
Jess: No. She's not for you.
Me: What? Why not? She's hot, so she's everything I'm looking for in a woman.
Jess: Because she's an alcoholic and a drug addict.
Me: So? I can drink with her. Drugs are only a minor issue.
Jess: I'm telling you, Walt. She's not for you.
Me: Well, why don't we find out? Invite her to my New Year's party.
Jess: No. She can't go; I already invited her.
Me: Why can't she go?
Jess: Because she doesn't have the gas money.
Me: No gas money?
Jess: Yeah. She's poor. She lives like an hour away, so she can't afford to come to your house.
This made me very angry. Why wasn't Drug Chick taking some initiative in life? Where was her drive? Where was her motivation? Why wasn't she trying her hardest to date and/or marry a rich guy?
I feel like this has become a huge problem in our society. Not enough women are gold-diggers anymore, and it's really hurting this country's morale. Years ago, men worked hard so we could make money and get laid. Now, it seems like women are content to get knocked up by low-level ghetto drug dealers.
Here's my theory about this: It's all about the media, namely Hollywood. Think about it - who's the main bad guy in 83 percent of movies? It's always some cutthroat, old, rich white guy who is willing to screw over lots of people so he can line his pockets with even more money. Everyone likes to watch movies, so when women see this, they think, "Wow, all white men who have money are secretly evil, so I'm going to marry a loser with no money or ambition when I grow up!"
This thought process is destroying our economy. With fewer women out hunting for rich guys, men don't have to work as hard anymore. Thus, production is down and companies are making less money, and thus, people get laid off from work - and consequently get laid in bed because they're now poor and unemployed.
People want to blame George W. Bush or Barack Obama for our terrible economy. Public opinion couldn't be more incorrect. It's Hollywood that is screwing us all - or rather just losers with no ambition, literally.
Drug Chick, if you're reading this, I want you to make a difference. Lead the charge for all women to go back to digging for gold. Stop doing drugs temporarily, get off your a**, put on some nice clothes and go meet a rich guy. Once you do, he can let you buy all the drugs and gas money that your heart desires.