JERK OF THE WEEK: Five-Year Anniversary: 50 Apologies
I can't believe it's been five years already. I began writing Jerks of the Week on Memorial Day Weekend 2009, publishing my first entry on May 31. I just came from my College Roommate's Wedding - it was his 5-year anniversary this weekend as well, and he's still happily married with a daughter - and was pissed that a girl I wanted to take to the wedding bailed on me because of a barbeque(**).
(**) If you think that makes me pathetic, two things: First, you're not as fat as I am because I would skip out on a wedding for a barbeque as well. Second, you're not fully aware of the situation; it was a work-related event, and she was starting a new job at a law firm, so she had to be there.
Nevertheless, thinking back makes me realize how many people/things I've dubbed to be jerks all of these years. And believe it or not, I now feel bad. I think I owe lots of people and things apologies. I need to make things right. So, why not start at the beginning?
1. I'm sorry, Barbeques. Every time I stuff a cheeseburger or hot dog into my mouth, I think back to when I called you a jerk, and it makes me depressed. Without barbeques, the world would fall apart. In fact, I think I would end my existence if I couldn't eat cheeseburgers and hot dogs anymore. I have no idea how those people in third-world countries live. Maybe instead of sending medical supplies and all of that useless crap, we should ship them cheeseburgers and hot dogs.
On second thought, nahhhh. We would surely transform into a third-world country ourselves if we ran out of cheeseburgers and hot dogs.
2. I'm sorry, Philadelphia Public School System. You're responsible for dumbing down thousands upon thousands of Philadelphia children each year, but it's not your fault that the city government is too incompetent to provide you with the appropriate funding. I mean, it's 2014. We've successfully manipulated DNA to allow information transferring into the human body. A man is developing technology to store brain synapses into a computer. And yet, you can't even have air conditioning in your building for the poor students who are forced to go to school and learn nothing during the hot June days.
3. I'm sorry, My Evil Neighbor's Kid. You ratted out your dad to an IRS agent for not paying his taxes, but you were too young to realize how much of a Ponzi scheme taxes really are. It's the American dream to make lots of money, eat cheeseburgers and hot dogs, and avoid paying taxes. My "evil" neighbor apparently isn't so evil after all. He's just a true American.
4. I'm sorry, Erin Andrews' Voyeur (aka Eric Mangini). I criticized you for videotaping a naked woman in a hotel room, but I failed to realize how utterly annoying Erin Andrews would become. If I have to watch another one of those horrific Probiotics commercials again, I'm going to rip my eyes out of my sockets and hurl them at the TV.
5. I'm sorry, Jolly Ranchers. I was extremely upset with you when you made your lemon flavor disappear, but you've since brought it back. Now, I am a happy, fat man.
6. I'm sorry, Readers. I apologized to my Evil Neighbor's Kids, yet I completely forgot that they tore a fire hydrant out of the ground five years ago. Evading taxes is a good thing. Ripping a fire hydrant out of the ground is just a douche-bag move. What if the hot dog truck is on fire? What then, huh?
7. I'm sorry, Pretentious Italian Restaurants. Actually, I'm not sorry. You still suck. I just wanted to use this as an excuse to write CHICKEN BORTUNOWW!!!!
8. I'm sorry, Gay Portuguese Waiter. At first, I thought you didn't like me. Now, after eating at your restaurant dozens of times over the years, I realize that you want to make sweet man sex with me, and that you were just playing hard to get. I'm still pissed, however, that you tricked me into thinking Bruschettas were mozzarella sticks.
10. I'm sorry, Women with No Personality. You have no personality, so you obviously don't care whether I'm apologizing to you, but I'm sorry nonetheless. I should have realized that there's a place in this world for hot chicks who don't say anything but "haha" and "okkkk" and "yeahhhh." And that place is the whore house.
11. I'm sorry, Indian Dog Poop Woman. I should have cleaned up the tiny speck of dog poop I accidentally left on the sidewalk so that your grandchildren's lives wouldn't have been in danger.
12. I'm sorry, Readers (again). I told you that there were two things terribly wrong with the Health Care Bill. Maybe I should have said two billion. This is exactly why I have zero faith in our government. It's run by a bunch of buffoons.
13. I'm sorry, No Space Man. It must suck that your "best friend" uninvited you from his birthday party because he had no space for you. What a sad existence. Sure, you're a pervert who asks for little boys' phone numbers in the gym locker room, but there should always be space for a best friend.
14. I'm sorry, Twilight, for not following up with 10 reasons why your sequels sucked as much as you did. I promise that I'll get on that soon enough.
15. I'm sorry, Russian Yoda Man. I've had an update I've been saving about the man who once said, "Best time to swim at night, eight o'clock, agree you?" but I just haven't gotten around to posting it yet.
16. I'm sorry, Poop Master. I lashed out at you for clogging my basement toilet with your fecal matter, but I'm a hypocrite because I've backed up many a toilet in my day.
17. I'm sorry, Borat Hater. I completely forgot about you, so I now feel bad about not going completely out of my way to look for a job for someone I barely know. If you've been deported because you couldn't find work in America, my bad. Hope your cheeseburger- and hot dog-less third-world country treats you well.
18. I'm sorry, Fantasy Football Gangsta. I shouldn't have criticized your decision to take the Jets' defense in the first round of your fantasy draft. After all, "defense win championships, yo!"
19. I'm sorry, No Space Man (again). I apologize for intentionally telling you the wrong start time of the Facebook movie so we wouldn't be able to hang out together. Call me crazy, but the prospect of sitting next to someone who likes to zip up random boys' pants in the locker room doesn't sound too appealing.
20. I'm sorry, Candy Thieves. I dubbed you a**holes for stealing the candy I left out for the kids in the neighborhood one Halloween evening when I was working, but being an extremely blubberous man, I completely understand why you would commit such an act.
21. I'm sorry, Angry Hockey Man. I haven't seen you in years, probably because you read my Jerks entry, got so mad that you had a heart attack, and died right on the spot. Honestly, I never intended for Jerks of the Week to kill anyone, but it's kind of cool that it may have.
22. I'm sorry, Change Nazi. I haven't seen you in years either, probably because you've been locked up in a mental institution.
23. I'm sorry, Astoria. You're a crappy Russian restaurant, but that still doesn't excuse me and my friends from acting like a**holes. We stole your liquor, threw grapes everywhere and made fun of your employees. We also toasted to a creepy dude molesting a super-drunk girl that night. Ovechkin!
24. I'm sorry, Russian Mustache Chick. You waved hi to me the other day at the gym, but I didn't know who you were, so I ignored you. I finally remembered upon rereading this entry. You still are a mustachioed b***h, but I should have waved back to you.
25. I'm sorry, Crazy Horse Girl. I made a mockery of your useless petition to save carriage horses. I even signed your petition as the president of Elmer's Glue, saying that we needed these horses to produce more glue. You then yelled at me on Facebook. We are now friends, so if I had to do it over... I'd probably do the same thing again. Sorry.
26. I'm sorry, Angry Black Man. I apparently made a move on your girl by accepting her friend request on Facebook. I shouldn't have done that. Instead, it forced you to threaten me. I relayed what you said to your girlfriend, and she promptly broke up with you. Meanwhile, I've stayed off the streets, per your request. Am I still required to stay away from them?
27. I'm sorry, Conspiracy Theorists. I didn't take you seriously, especially when you made prophetic comments on my Facebook wall like: "I just want you guys to remember when the $ no longer the worlds reserve currency by the end of next year and America is a 3rd world country, you will remember this very here post....And I now have more respect for Rasard Mendenhall then ever, ever b4!" Three years later, and I still have no respect for "Rasard" Mendenhall. But I'm sorry, nonetheless.
28. I'm sorry, Rapture. I didn't take you or Harold Camping seriously, which makes me a hypocrite because I want people to take my Rapeture prophecy seriously. Remember, on June 6, 2017, hot alien chicks will come to Earth and rape all men. You've been warned. Rapeture is nearly upon us.
31. I'm sorry, Cookie Thieves. Sorry I haven't kicked your a**es yet. You conned me into buying cookie dough when I thought I was purchasing real cookies. The cookie dough is still in my freezer, making me a sad, fat man.
33. I'm sorry, Fat People. I lost an ice cream sandwich in my freezer in the spring of 2012, and I never found it again. I'm ashamed of this, and I still cry myself to sleep sometimes just thinking about that ice cream sandwich.
34. I'm sorry, Woody Paige. It sucks that someone from ESPN thinks I'm a mushroom living in dank darkness. Or was it dark dankness? Woody's brain is so fried, he probably doesn't even remember writing an article about how much I suck.
35. I'm sorry, Hicks at the Local Bar. I shouldn't have made fun of you for not knowing who Stalin was. It's not your fault that the Philadelphia Public School System made you so incredibly stupid.
36. I'm sorry, Hunchback of Notre Diner. I'm sorry that you exist, actually. Not only are you a disgusting, obese individual, but you were so incompetent as the manager of my favorite diner that you were one of the reasons the establishment closed down. And no, I still won't have sex with you.
37. I'm sorry, Smelly Cougar, that I didn't allow you to spread your STDs to me. I get that contracting a dozen STDs in a single night may sound appealing to some dudes, but I'll pass.
38. I'm sorry, Body Burner. I didn't mean to yell at you for tricking me into thinking that fried calamari was actually fried chicken. I didn't like to be fooled like that, but I've come to enjoy fried calamari.
39. I'm sorry, Melvis, Slav and Frederico. It's every foreigner's dream to come to the U.S. and molest hot, American women. I tried to rob you creepy Russian dudes of that dream, and I apologize.
40. I'm sorry, Blondtender. I didn't mean to get you into trouble with your dad. If you're still bartending somewhere, I hope your dad doesn't think your customers are obsessed with you. But I'll never forget the time you tried to rape me with a giant cucumber. It was a wonderful moment.
41. I'm sorry, Nicole Westbrook, that your career never took off. I truly wanted to hear more of your crappy music.
December was National AIDS Awareness Day. February was Valentine's Day. May was Memorial Day. And Mother's Day, but now it's National Cheese Pizza Day.
Oh oh oh it's National Cheese Pizza Day. We we we we are going to eat cheeze pizza.
Oh oh oh it's National Cheese Pizza Day. We we we we are going to eat cheeze pizza.
With some cheese, eh, tomato sauce eh, and we we we are gonna eat cheese pizza.
No pepperoni, eh, no sausage or onions eh,
It's National Cheese Pizzay Day.
It's National Cheese Pizza Day. (OK).
42. I'm sorry, Black Friday Shopper. I should have left more folding chairs next to my car near my parents' house for you to steal on Black Friday 2012. That was awfully rude of me. To make up for it, go to the corner of Bustleton and Byberry this upcoming Black Friday. I'll leave half-a-dozen folding chairs for you to take there. I realize folding chairs are hot commodity, but it's the least I can do.
43. I'm sorry, Angry Man, that you didn't get to beat up the little kid at Barnes & Noble a year and a half ago. He tried to take your precious book, so you showed him with an uppercut to the jaw. Unfortunately, you couldn't get the job done before people broke you two up. You almost had him.
44. I'm sorry, Master Zumba, for not attending any of your wonderful workouts at the gym. Then again, you got all of the hot chicks to yourself, so maybe I shouldn't be apologizing. Nice job banging them, Master Zumba.
45. I'm sorry, Dance Bang Girl. I shouldn't have thought you were extremely stupid, especially when you couldn't remember your own name and you shouted, "All I wanna do is daaaance! All I wanna do is baaaaang! Wooooo!" Wait, never mind, you are extremely stupid.
46. I'm sorry, Elizabeth, Religious Nutjob, for denouncing your religion and promising you that my company, Graystone Industries, would create technology that would enable humans to live forever. Someone else is doing that.
47. I'm sorry, Soulless-Eye Lady and Sleepy Mexican, though I can confidently say that neither of you is reading this. It's a miracle that either of you can even muster enough will power to get out of bed in the morning.
48. I'm sorry, Elliptical Assembler, for never inviting you to one of my parties. As appealing it was to have a crack head there, I just couldn't invite someone who (poorly) assembled my elliptical. Oh, and I imagine that your baby momma gave birth recently. I hope you've learned to enjoy hanging out with her by now.
49. I'm sorry, Russian Plumber. It must suck to have an ex-wife who stole all of your money, even though you got super drunk and did something bad enough for her to warrant calling the cops. But thank you for this great advice: "All vooman do zis! Never drinking vis vooman! All she need to do call police. If you drinking, you go jail. Finito."
50. I'm sorry, Duck Man. It was bad of me to con you into thinking that I'm a duck named Scrooge, and that I have three nephews. Luckily, you didn't buy my story, or you would've broken into my home and searched for all of my precious gold that I dive into every day.
As you can see, I had to make a ton of apologies. All of this made me realize something - it's that I'm the jerk. Yes, while I've been complaining about everyone else, I'm the true jerk.
With that in mind, I'm going to make an announcement: I'm done with Jerks of the Week. I just can't do it anymore. I hate being the jerk. I just want to be loved by all, and to do that, I'll need to stop making fun of people.
Nahhhh. Being a jerk is fun. Stay tuned next week - and the next five years - for more Jerks of the Week.