@Mason Curry Thanks Mason. I'll try and take that into account on my next version. I wish Walter would expand the player database and add more rounds. Oh well, I guess the draft is like 10 months away. :)
JERK OF THE WEEK: Jerks at Injured Reserve and Man Eaters' Wedding
One of my good friends, Injured Reserve, married his high school sweetheart Man Eaters last weekend. I was very happy to be a part of it. The two had been dating for seven years, so it was good to see them finally tie the knot. I also had a great time at their wedding, so it was an awesome weekend all around.
However, I managed to discover plenty of jerks to write about. I know you're all surprised. Me, finding jerks at an event? When has that ever happened? I know, I know. This is truly a rarity. Nonetheless, I have a full entry dedicated to the jerks at Injured Reserve and Man Eaters' wedding.
Caveman is (or perhaps was after this entry) a friend of mine. I met him through Injured Reserve at a fantasy football draft one summer perhaps five years ago. We've since hung out at bars and parties. Though he constantly harasses me on Facebook about where I have his beloved Eagles in my NFL Power Rankings, I always considered him a cool dude.
Well, I received a call Thursday morning from Injured Reserve's brother, the Reverend (he is an actual reverend; he's been certified online), who asked me for Caveman's number because he had to "yell at him." I gave the Reverend his number and asked him what was up. The Reverend told me that Caveman informed him that he won't be attending the wedding because he didn't have a gift for Injured Reserve and Man Eaters.
So, he was going to miss out on his good friend's wedding because he couldn't come up with a gift? I mean, it sucks that he's having financial difficulty, but he could always give a present later. People do that all the time. Just buying them a card, apologizing for it and promising a gift later would have been fine. His spot was already paid for, so it would've been a dick move on his part not to go.
I assumed the Reverend talked Caveman into it, so I went about my day. The following night, I saw my friend Body Burner, a groomsman at the wedding, at Tango.
Body Burner: Did you hear that Caveman's not going to the wedding?
Me: Wait, I thought the Reverend was going to yell at him?
Body Burner: Well, he tried, but it didn't work.
Me: This is so stupid. He can't find 50 bucks to give them or something? He can't do that later in a couple of months? I don't get it.
Body Burner: Yeah, I don't know.
Me: Wait, didn't he just go on vacation to some island last week? How'd he pay for that?
Body Burner: Two weeks ago. And I have no idea.
Me: Wow... wow!
I texted Caveman immediately...
Me: Hey, I heard you're not going to the wedding tomorrow. Is this true?
Caveman: Yeah. I don't have a gift.
Me: So just give them one later.
Caveman: It's tough for me now. I'm supporting my family.
Me: But didn't you just go to some island on vacation?
Caveman: Yeah, but I didn't pay for it. And to be honest with you man, I don't think I need to discuss this with you. Good night.
OK, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Let's say he somehow didn't spend a single dime on this vacation - shouldn't his financial difficulty have prohibited him from going so he could work and make money? He could have worked for a week and A) used some of the money for a gift and B) used the rest of it to support his family. Something is missing here.
Oh, and what's with the sand in the vag at the very end? Of course he needed to discuss this with me. I was doing Jerks of the Week research, after all.
Caveman didn't make it to the wedding, but he at least qualified for Jerks of the Week as a consolation. That's something to be proud of.
So, the next time you don't have a gift for a wedding and are faced with the following three options...
A) Go to the wedding and give a gift later
B) Ditch your good friend and skip the wedding
C) Eat Cheetos and Oroes
...Make sure you pick A - but only after doing C. Because Cheetos and Oreos are awesome.
2. Napoleon Dynamite
The ceremony was great. It was right around the corner from my house, so it was nice that I didn't have to travel far because I get lost more than anyone - as you can read about in my Live Wedding Retro Blog. My parents bought my GPS thing, but I haven't opened the box yet because that seems complicated. Fortunately, I had my girlfriend Awesome Girl Who Loves Football there to help navigate using her iPhone.
We arrived early because it was close by. It's good that we were so prompt because it gave Body Burner enough time to fix my tie. I have no idea how to tie a tie. I'm fortunate enough to work in my pajamas, so I never had to learn. Not that I could learn. I mean, I don't even know how to boil water, for crying out loud.
Anyway, something written on the program at the ceremony caught my eye:
Cocktail "hour" is from 7:00-8:30. Come really hungry. Seriously. Like, build yourself a time machine and don't eat all last week. Or maybe do something useful with that time machine, like bet all your life savings on the Giants to win the 2007 Super Bowl. You're welcome.
I purposely refused to eat all day in anticipation of this cocktail hour. We arrived at the reception, and the cocktail hour was as good as advertised. There were about a dozen stations containing various foodstuffs. My favorite one had mini cheesesteaks, mini cheeseburgers and buffalo chicken. I had some of that, and then I ate a baked potato with cheese and bacon, and then some cheese and then some pizza and then some shrimp and then some lasagna and then more buffalo chicken NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!
I'm pretty sure I tried food from every station - except for one. There was a table on one end of the room containing some sort of pasta. The server behind it looked exactly like Napoleon Dynamite, only with brown hair. He had the same long face and disinterested grin. I even asked several people if they thought he looked like Napoleon Dynamite, and they agreed.
However, there was something sinister about this version of Napoleon Dynamite. He seemed evil. No, really, he did. He was leering at people and looked like he had wicked intentions on his mind. If I had to guess, I think he wanted to kidnap some people, tie them up in his basement and force them to watch episodes of Mike and Molly, all while maniacally laughing, "Tee hee hee, my pretty, soon you will watch the entire series of this television show tee hee hee!!!"
As a result, no one approached his station. Not one person. I kept a lookout for this, and the closest anyone got to taking his food approached the table, perused the food on it and then walked briskly away once Napoleon Dynamite gave them a vile look.
It's a good thing no one ate any of Napoleon Dynamite's pasta - I have no doubt that he laced it with a strong sedative. Fortunately, no one fell for his ruse.
3. Helga and Leeks
I was given some alarming news toward the end of cocktail hour. I don't even know who informed me because I was too busy stuffing my face with food, but it went something like this:
Me: NOM NOM NOM NOM BUFFALO CHICKEN NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!
Unknown Person: Hey Walt, are you going to have any room for dinner?
Me: NOM NOM NOM NOM BUFF... wait, what? Dinner? I thought this was dinner.
Unknown Person: Umm... no. There's a full dinner course and then dessert at midnight.
Me: Oh no, I've eaten so much food that I won't have room for dinner. What have I done? What have I done!?!??!?!
I was depressed for the following hour. I would've cried, but I ate too much to have any tears. We sat down and eventually a burly woman in her 40s approached our table and asked us what we wanted to eat. I heard her ask my girlfriend, "Would you like the red snapper, stuffed chicken or (something inaudible)."
I'd prefer not to eat fingers with red paint on them, so the stuffed chicken seemed preferable. But what was this mysterious third item on the menu? I discovered this when she took my order.
Burly Woman: Would you like the red snapper, stuffed chicken or Chateau Breesomething.
Me: I don't know what most of that means.
This drew some laughs from the table, as people are well aware of how ignorant I am.
Burly Woman: The red snapper is a fish, the stuffed chicken is stuffed with vegetables and the Chateau Breesomething is steak.
Me: Oh... I guess I'll have the stuffed chicken then.
Steak would usually be the preference, but I didn't trust anything that sounded French. Napoleon Dynamite - the original one; not the guy in the movies - was also French, so it's possible that the Napoleon Dynamite at this wedding laced the steak with poison. I wasn't going to take any chances.
About a half hour later, the burly woman brought out some soup. As she placed it down on the table, I had to ask...
Me: What is this?
Burly Woman: It's soup.
Me: Oh OK. But what kind of soup?
Burly Woman: Potato leek soup.
Me: What's that?
Burly Woman: Ugh.
She just said "ugh" and walked away. She was already fed up with me. Most people can tolerate my ignorance, but she apparently could not. That, or being a monstrous lesbian, she was jealous of my beautiful date. Perhaps both.
"I'm making her a Jerk of the Week," I announced to Awesome Girl Who Loves Football. She asked me what I would call her, but I was undecided at the time. I've decided on Helga. She just looked like a Helga. Most Helgas, I'm sure, are lesbian bodybuilders. She is definitely a lesbian bodybuilder in her spare time.
But back to the more pressing issue - what the hell was potato leek soup? I asked my friend Val, who clarified it for me.
Val: It's just a potato soup with leeks. It's good.
Me: Wait, with leeks? What the hell is a leek?
Val: It's the green stuff in the soup.
Me: Green stuff? Oh, I thought that was lettuce or celery.
Val: Walt. Really?
Me: Yeah. I thought by potato leek soup, they opened up a potato and leaked the potato juice into a bowl and then added celery and/or lettuce.
Val: He's all yours, Awesome Girl Who Loves Football.
Awesome Girl Who Loves Football: Yeah, I don't even know.
Much later, when the main course was served, Helga placed the stuffed chicken in front of Awesome Girl Who Loves Football. Helga then gave me the Chateau Breesomething. This confused me.
Me: Wait! I ordered the stuffed chicken!
Helga: No. I have you down for this.
Me: But I didn't even know what it was. Why would I order something I've never heard of before?
Helga: You tell me. Hmph.
Helga gave me a disgusted look and walked away. She obviously plotted with Napoleon Dynamite to poison me, so I ate only a little bit of the Chateau Breesomething. Hey, I don't want to watch Mike and Molly.
4. Dancing Enforcers
I had an amazing time with Awesome Girl Who Loves Football. Not only did she look stunning - you can see pictures of us on Facebook - but like me, she refused to dance.
I think it's great that we both hate dancing. For me, it's just too complicated. There's too much geometry and physics involved. Like, how far apart do your legs have to be? Where do you put your arms? At what angle should your knees bend? And that's just the geometry. The physics of dancing is much more frustrating to figure out. What force do you use to place your feet on the dance floor? What velocity do you use to move your legs? And what about your arms? Do they move as quickly as your legs? It's so complicated. Perhaps if I brought a calculator with me I could figure all of this out and attempt to dance, but I'd rather sit back and have a cold drink.
So, Awesome Girl Who Loves Football and I sat there, talked, drank and ate. All of this occurred, however, as at least two dozen people approached us and asked us why we weren't dancing. It was literally two dozen - perhaps more. They couldn't understand why we refused to go on the dance floor. Here's an example of how these exchanges went down:
Body Burner: Why aren't you guys dancing?
Awesome Girl Who Loves Football: I have to be super drunk to dance and I'm not there yet.
Me: Yeah me too because then I won't care about the geometry and physics of it.
Body Burner: Geometry and physics?
Me: Yeah like how far apart you put your feet and the force you use with your legs.
Body Burner: But you can just have fun dancing!
Me: Fun? Dancing's not fun! It's horrible!
Body Burner and the others just shook their head and walked back to the dance floor. There were a lot of people dancing, so I suppose they all excelled in physics and geometry back in high school.
5. Drunkest Girl Ever
One person who did not know what she was doing on the dance floor was someone I referred to as Drunkest Girl Ever. Let's rewind - right after I gave my order to Helga, I went to the bar to get a couple of beers for myself and my girlfriend. The bartender was talking to Drunkest Girl Ever, a short brunette.
Drunkest Girl Ever: Heeeyyy cannn I geeettt hic!
Bartender: No. You need a break.
Drunkest Girl Ever: Whaaaattt??? Whennennennn???
Bartender: Come back after you've eaten dinner.
I don't think I've ever seen anyone flagged by the bartender about an hour and a half into the wedding reception. It was ridiculous, but he was right in not serving her because she was so trashed. She did the most insane things. For instance, as the bride and groom were doing their first dance together, she dragged Body Burner's girlfriend to the dance floor for a slow dance. I'm not kidding. It was the bride, the groom, the rest of the bridal party and those two.
Drunkest Girl Ever tried to dance for most of the night, but failed miserably. During line dances (more on these next week), she was about 10 seconds late with her movements and constantly turned the wrong direction. When regular songs were on, she tried dancing with various people, who looked like they didn't enjoy her company. She stood near our table for 10 minutes and didn't say anything. She also ruined some of my sister's pictures by standing near the background.
But that doesn't compare to vomiting at a food station during cocktail hour and then interfering with the bride and groom as they were cutting the cake. As they were doing so, she ran up to the bride and asked for a picture with her. Again, I wish I were making this up.
Eventually, dessert was served. One of the things they had were Belgian Waffles. I love Belgian Waffles with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup on top. I'm such a big fan that I didn't care that Napoleon Dynamite happened to be manning that station. As I approached him for some vanilla ice cream, he gave me an evil smirk and told me he'd be right back. Minutes later, Helga replaced him. "This could not end well," I thought to myself.
"Hi, I'd like some vanilla ice cream on my Belgian Waffle, please!" I told Helga. Unfortunately, Helga did not comply, instead putting the vanilla ice cream on the side of my waffle. I looked at her and wondered why she would do such a thing, but she just grinned menacingly at me and didn't say anything.
I walked away and joined Awesome Girl Who Loves Football at a table with pink champagne, which was delicious - my cousin would later call this an "orgasm in his mouth." We were just talking when Drunkest Girl Ever, who was still not being served at the bar, approached the champagne table. She reached for a glass and - SLAP!
An old woman caught her just in time and slapped her hand, denying her a chance to consume more alcohol. Drunkest Girl Ever walked away with a depressed expression on her face.
I actually felt bad for Drunkest Girl Ever. Think about it - she was definitely going to puke her brains out later that night, and she would then be reminded of how she attempted to ruin a wedding.
But the worst part is that she'll inevitably see videos of her trying to dance. She'll see how badly she screwed up the geometry and physics of her dancing, and this will ultimately lead to a life of shame. She'll have to lock herself in her house, where she won't be able to do anything besides eat bon-bons and watch reruns of Mike and Molly. At least she'll have a creepy guy there to accompany her.