@Mr. Bitter Weddle is actually the perfect free agent addition for the Raiders, no matter who they draft, and for several reasons. First of all, he still plays at a high level, and, he now has something more to prove, especially if he gets to play his former team twice. Second, while his age might seem like an issue to many people, his age actually works to the Raiders favor. First, because he provides there secondarywithveteran leadership that will be sorely lacking with Woidsons exit, and second, because he wont require a long term commitment. The Raiders can tie up a chunk of money that theyneed to spend, but not get in the way of future extensions or contracts.
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 went to Wawa prior to going out Friday, April 6. I always get my dinner there prior to Tango. All I purchse is an Italian hoagie and some chips to keep things light. Let this be a lesson to all you novice drinkers - don't eat heavily prior to a night out because lots of food will impede your intoxication goals.
The Hot Redheaded Chick was working at Wawa this particular night. I'm usually the one who desperately tries to strike up a conversation with her, but she inexplicably initiated it this time.
Hot Redheaded Chick: What are you up to tonight?
Me: Who? Me? Oh... I uhh... I'm going to Tango.
Hot Redheaded Chick: Oh yeah, you go to Tango every Friday night, right? I remember you saying that.
Hot Redheaded Chick: I have off next Friday night, so I'll come by.
OK, I didn't yell that, but I wanted to. Hot Redheaded Chick is, well, hot, so even though I don't know much about her, I can tell that she's the ideal woman for me. Perhaps she's even my soul mate.
I was so shocked that I didn't know what to say beyond, "OK cool." She never gave me any sort of indication that she was interested as far as I can tell. Unfortunately, I was too slow to realize that I should have asked her for her number, or at least her Facebook profile, just in case I couldn't make it, or whatever. That would just be an excuse though. There was no way I wasn't making it to Tango on April 13. I didn't care if massive meteors were colliding with our planet that day, or if there was some great Oreo shortage; there was nothing that was going to stop me from going to Tango and trying to game the Hot Redheaded Chick.
I couldn't wait to tell Jess the news later that night.
Me: I have some exciting news about next Friday!
Jess: YOU BETTER BE HERE NEXT FRIDAY!
Me: What? Why?
Jess: VAL TOLD ME THAT MELVIS AND SLAV WERE PLANNING ON COMING HERE NEXT FRIDAY!
Jess: YES, SO YOU BETTER BE HERE!
Me: Oh. Well, my exciting news is that the Hot Redheaded Chick from Wawa said she's coming here!
Jess: OK, THAT'S FINE, BUT MAKE SURE YOU PRIORITIZE PROTECTING OUR BOOBIES!
Just my luck. I was finally going to hang out with the Hot Redheaded Chick, but I wouldn't be able to pay much attention to her because I'd have to protect my friends from those communist, groping bastards. I could almost hear God laughing at me.
The day finally arrived. I got haircut earlier in the week. I prepared one of my nicer dress shirts. I even washed my jeans for the first time in months (I had to buy Febreze at CVS.) I was ready to kick some communist butt and game the Hot Redheaded Chick at the same time.
Only, I did neither.
Hot Redheaded Chick didn't show. I don't know why she told me she'd go to Tango, but apparently something more serious than giant meteors or an Oreo famine came up. I guess Hot Redheaded Chick isn't my soul mate after all because flaky people really irk me. A couple of my other friends were no-shows. Body Burners had a legitimate excuse (eye injury), but Caveman sent me the following text when I asked why he wasn't at the bar: "I pulled my thigh/ass mussel."
Someone who did come to Tango was Always Trashed Girl, who disappointingly was not trashed. I guess I'll redub her as Sometimes Trashed Girl.
Sometimes Trashed Girl told me she read my St. Patrick's Day Jerks of the Week entry, and that it was sort of a wake-up call for her. I assured her that the moniker I gave her wasn't meant as an insult in the slightest. In fact, I considered it a high honor to be "always trashed." I was always trashed at Penn State. I've done many crazy things in my drunken nights at State College. I incited a riot at a McDonald's. I issued a citizen's arrest to a police officer. I even showed up to one of my finals completely intoxicated - and managed to score an 84. I'll have all of these stories in my upcoming book, Jerks on My Floor, which was finally completed last month. I plan on finding a literary agent in May, hopefully prior to St. Stalin's Day.
At any rate, Somewhat Trashed Girl went to play pool, so I started talking to my sister. She was telling me something - I forget what exactly because I was distracted by a basket of cheese fries. They were just sitting there on the bar, and no one was around them.
I snuck a cheese fry into my mouth. And then one more. And then another. And another. And a dozen more. And a dozen more after that. My sister finally took notice.
Sister: Wait, whose cheese fries are those?
Me: I dunno NOM NOM NOM NOM.
Sister: Eww, you're just eating some random person's cheese fries?
Me: NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!
Speaking of disgusting people, Melvis and Slav were both there. They seemed to be behaving, though I was later told that Melvis grabbed Sometimes Trashed Girl's a** at one point during the night. However, they spent most of the time sitting at the bar, looking really depressed. I can only imagine what sort of conversation they had prior to going out.
Slav: Melvis, vhy you lying? You say girl in America let guy touch boob. Vee go everyvhere and try and touch boob, and many girl say zey going to call police.
Melvis: I don't know vhat happen, Slav. I tell you, I read in zee magazine zat American girl like vhen you touch boob.
Slav: Now vee stuck in zis country, iz not land of opportunity! Iz no land of opportunity! American girl no like touch boob, American girl no like Beach Boy. American girl no like gold chain or track suit.
Melvis: Don't give up hope, Slav. Vee travel so far to zis country. Maybe vee doing wrong. Maybe girl like when you grab butt. Maybe girl like silver chain. Maybe girl like t-shirt vis American flag on zem.
Slav: I dunno, Melvis. Maybe vee try zis new strategy tomorrow. Tonight, I vant drink in misery.
Melvis: OK, Slav. But maybe I grab some vooman butt in zee meantime.
Melvis and Slav were lingering outside after the bar closed, so I decided to guard my female friends until they left. It took a while, but they eventually went away, presumably to sort through their belongings to see if they had any silver chains or American flag t-shirts.
As a result, I got to Wawa pretty late with my friends Adrienne and Dani. Most of the usual drunken crowd had already left, but there were only a couple people of interest in there. One was this chick who was with three other people. She was wearing tight, black pants, which showed off her great a**. She was incredibly lucky that Melvis wasn't there to grab it.
I ordered my sandwich and went to pay for it. There was a strange guy at the register. He was wearing a pink tie and unbuckled suspenders that were dangling on the floor. He drunkenly tried to adjust his suspenders repeatedly, but he couldn't reconnect him to his pants. He was so intoxicated that he had his eyes closed as he was speaking. He also had a lisp and took offense to the Wawa cashier laughing at him.
Suspenders Man: Thoppp maakiiin funnn of my acctthenntt jeeezztth chriitthh!!
I immediately saw this as a golden Jerks of the Week opportunity, so I started a conversation with him.
Me: Accent? Where are you from?
Suspenders Man: I'm from Brooklyn! I came to Philadelphia to be a hair thylist!
Wawa Cashier: Sir, I keep trying to tell you, you need to go to the touch screen and order what you want.
Suspenders Man: Can you pleath justh get food for me!?
The Wawa employee behind the counter heard this. She immediately carried over a brick of cheese.
Wawa Employee: Here. You want food. Here's some cheese.
Suspenders Man: But I want thomething more than cheeth!
Wawa Employee: Do you want some vinegar on your cheese?
Suspenders Man: Yeth... I want thome vinegar...
The Wawa employee was clearly messing with him. He eventually received some sort of concoction. Meanwhile, Adrienne, Dani and I continued to collect Jerks of the Week material.
Adrienne: Where were you tonight?
Suspenders Man: I wath at work!
Adrienne: Work? This late?
Suspenders Man: Yeth! We had a party at work, and my bosth maketh a mean cocktail. I drank tho many of them!
Dani: What kind of cocktail?
Suspenders Man: It wath... I forget. Oh my God, oh my God, he told me tonight that I give the beth blow jobth ever!
Me: That's something to be proud of.
Suspenders Man: I'm having tho much trouble with my thuthpenderth. Can you pleath help me with them?
Me: Dude, I've never worn suspenders in my life. I don't know how to put them on.
Suspenders Man: Of courth, you haven't. You're a thraight boy. Come on, I'm gonna teach you.
Me: Ehh... I dunno.
Suspenders Man: Come on, when you learn how to put on thuthpenderth, you'll wear them all the time. You have no thtyle right now, but I'll thow you!
No style? No style!? I put on a nice dress shirt and Febrezed jeans. How can he say I have no style? Ugh. I'd dismiss it if it came from anyone else, but heterosexually challenged dudes know what they're talking about. It's like a regular dude telling another guy that he knows nothing about sports. Perhaps this is why the Hot Redheaded Chick didn't show up to Tango. Maybe she peered in, saw my outfit and decided that she didn't want to sexually assault anyone dressed like a bum.
At any rate, Suspenders Man finally roped me into buckling one of his suspenders. He wasn't budging, and both Dani and Adrienne were pressuring me into doing it. I tried buckling his left suspender strap, and it was actually pretty easy. I don't know why he was having so much trouble with it earlier, but Suspenders Man was very impressed with me.
Suspenders Man: Thee, I knew you could do it! You can wear thuthpenderth now!
Me: I don't know if it's my style.
Suspenders Man: You know, I'm thinking about it and I don't think it'th your thtyle either. But I would definitely thtill have thex with you.
Adrienne & Dani: What!?
Suspenders Man: Well, it'th true!
Me: Wow, I don't know what to say. I'm flattered.
Suspenders Man: Thee! You're a nith boy! Moth thraight guyth would be like, "Come on man, don't thay that!" or just be like "eww" but you're a nith boy!
Suspenders Man complimented me some more. I don't completely remember what he was saying because I was somewhat drunk myself, but I remember being happy. I needed some positive reinforcement after being stood up by the Hot Redheaded Chick - even if it was from a gay guy who allegedly gave great head.
At any rate, Suspenders Man repeatedly asked us if we wanted to come back to his house. My goal is to be raped by a hot woman, or an OK-looking chick, but there was no way I was getting sexually assaulted by a heterosexually challenged man. Dani and Adrienne, meanwhile, wanted to drive to Parx Casino for some strange reason, but decided that it was their civil duty to keep Suspenders Man from driving home. They decided that they would drop me off and then bring Suspenders Man to Parx, where they would ditch him if he got weird.
Adrienne and I got into Dani's car, while Dani drove Suspenders Man around. They dropped me off, so I went into my house, hopped on my computer and jotted down what happened that night so I wouldn't forget it the next morning.
The following day, Adrienne sent me a long Facebook message:
So by the time we got to your house, ridiculously drunk guy (his name is actually Rob we later found out) had passed out so Dani said that she'll just follow me to Parx and we'll figure things out there... when we parked at Parx she said that he was showing signs of alcohol poisoning...low pulse, shallow breathing, snoring so I stayed with his car (I was really cold but too scared to sit in the car lol) while she ran into Parx to see what we should do... she came back like 10 minutes later and she was on the phone explaining things to the dispatcher and they told her steps to check if he was okay...
Dani did something called a sternum rub and pinched him under the arm (I'm guessing that's stuff to do to wake them up) but he wouldn't budge, I even tried to lay him down in the seat since he was slumped over but it was like trying to move a dead person, he was like stiff lol... eventually 2 cops, an ambulance with 2 paramedics, and like 5 casino security guys were surrounding the car...
It took one of the cops a while but they finally got him to wake up and he got out of the car...he refused to go to the hospital, and told the cops it was his car... eventually the cops decided to drive him home and said that if the car leaves the parking lot before 7 am he's going to get arrested. Oh and apparently, he's had a previous DUI.
I can't say I'm very surprised, considering that Suspenders Man insisted on driving home before agreeing to go with Dani and Adrienne. It's just unfortunate for Suspenders Man that the cop who slapped him with the DUI wasn't gay. Otherwise, he could have just given him the alleged greatest blow job ever and gotten out of it.
Jerks of the Week for April 16, 2012
JERK OF THE WEEK: Gay Guy Who Wanted to Have Sex with Me
I posted the following on Facebook late Saturday night:
Some of my Facebook friends commented, "not that there's anything wrong with that." Others asked if it was Matt Millen, who wanted to stick some of his beloved kielbasa into my rear end. It wasn't Millen, and yes, my rear end is safe, and no, not that there's anything wrong with any of that.
As promised, I'm going to give you the full details about this encounter, but for me to do that, I have to go back three weeks ago...
Saturday, March 24, 2012:
I usually go out one night per week unless it's the summer because I'm always working. That's generally a Friday night, and I almost always go to Tango, the bar down the block from my house, formerly known as Whiskey Tango.
People always ask if I get tired of going to the same bar every week. I look at them like they're crazy. How can I possibly get tired of Tango? Between the hot blond bartender, the racist KKK bikers and creepy stalkers who talk to me about Family Guy in the bathroom for 10 minutes, what's there to get tired of?
I went out the Friday night of this particular weekend, so I stayed in Saturday to get some work done. I received a text from my friend Jess around 1:15 a.m. that night, telling me that she was being molested.
I thought Jess was kidding at first, so I told her to tell everyone I said hi. Minutes later, I received several provocative texts from an anonymous number like, "I want u in me."
If you've been reading Jerks of the Week for a while, you know that it's always been my life dream to be raped by a hot chick, or maybe even an average-looking woman. Unfortunately, the odds of this happening are remote - I even left my Penn State dorm room unlocked for six years, and no girl has ever shown up unannounced - so I figured someone was just messing with me.
Jess texted me about half an hour later, telling me that she was pretty scared because two creepy Russian dudes were accosting her. It was then that I made up my mind - I planned to get dressed, drive down to Tango and kick some communist butt. And if luck would have it, the anonymous person texting me would be the hot blond bartender. She'd be impressed by my ability to destroy communism, and she'd rape me as a reward for my bravery and patriotism. Everyone would win.
I arrived as the bar was closing. Jess was right near the door, looking unharmed. I asked her what was happening, and she pointed to two Russian dudes. One was tall and thin, while the other was short and stocky. She said that the shorter Russian guy kept going around and touching every girl's breasts. He even stuck his hand down Jess' shirt to touch her boobs. Some other chick, who had a great rack, complained about the same thing.
Me: I don't get it. He just went around, stuck his hand inside your tops and squeezed your breasts?
Great Rack Girl: Yeah, he's such a creep.
Me: And no one did anything?
Jess: No. I even tried to pretend that I had both a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and he wouldn't leave me alone. I said I sleep with Adrienne every Saturday, Val all the time, and Sean sometimes, but he just kept coming after me.
The two Russian creepers fled the scene before I heard everything, so I couldn't say anything to them. I did wonder why they would blatantly do this at a public place. Sure, they were drunk, but most men don't assault every female they see.
My question was answered when I went on to learn that the two Russians have been in this country for less than a year. That explained everything. In fact, here's what I believe to be an accurate conversation between the two just before they left Mother Russia:
Melvis: Slav, I can't wait go United State of American. Iz call land of opportunity.
Slav: Yes, Melvis, vee have plenty opportunity in country of American. Vee can buy gold chain and track suit for little money and zen vee can go to club and have a sex vis the girl.
Melvis: Slav, forget zee gold chain and track suit. I read in magazine American girl let you touch boobs for free.
Slav: Oho, Melvis! Vhere you read zis?
Melvis: I tell you, Slav, in magazine. Magazine about shoe. Article say shoe dirtiest zing in zee vorld. Zen I read article about American girl allow you to touch boob.
Slav: Melvis, I'm ready to be American! Vee vill buy Beach Boy alboom, gold chain and track suit, and vee vill touch many boob in American!
Melvis: Yes, Slav. And zen vee have a sex vis the girl.
Nothing else happened at Tango that night - to my chagrin, Great Rack Girl wasn't the one who was sending me the provocative texts - so I went to Wawa with Jess. I got there first, and apparently Jess got stuck in a time vortex because she was five minutes behind me. Luckily for me, my early arrival allowed me to glimpse the two creepy Russians.
The shorter one, whom I dubbed Melvis, was yelling something on the phone. This is all I heard:
"Vhen taxi come? I call taxi, taxi tell me he comin, and I vait here for circy minoot. Vhere taxi!?"
Looks like Melvis and Slav are learning that America's not so great after all.