This weekend was an interesting one for me. I learned a few things, which isn’t necessarily odd, but the things I usually learn on the weekends are more along the lines of what the underside of the tables at McGinty’s Pub look like, or that cops don’t like it when you call them “shitheels” in public. But yesterday, for instance, I learned that I have the ability to alter the outcome of a Super Bowl and that I am going to become filthy rich as a result.
Last Friday, I publicly put a curse on the Seattle Seahawks for committing the cardinal sin of making my commute to work slightly more difficult. Fuckers. Now, I realize that if you want to get technical about it, I wished for them to lose by a million points, and yes, they fell a bit short of that, only losing by four, but the math is undeniable: I am 1 for 1 in Super Bowl hexes, which gives me an effectiveness rating of 100%. Using this iron-clad statistic, we can easily prove that I am infallible when it comes to hexing a team in the Super Bowl, and shall remain so until the end of time.
So, is your team about to head to the Super Bowl? Would you like to make sure that they win? Well, you’ll be glad to know that all I require is a steamer trunk of untraceable, non-consecutive twenty dollar bills. That’s it! You make with the dough, and I will publicly place a curse on the opposing team so horrible that they’ll be lucky to escape the game alive, let alone with a victory.
But perhaps you don’t have a steamer trunk full of cash. Never fear, I have discount rates for things that will probably be horrible enough to cause the other team to lose (although I’m afraid that without a full payment, you run the risk of having the game decided on the field.)
- For $10,000, I will curse the opposing quarterback so that his dick falls off at halftime.
- For $5,000, I will curse the opposing team’s defensive line with explosive diarrhea.
- For $1,000, I will curse the halftime act to stab the opposing team’s kicker in the eye with an ice pick.
- For $100, I will make the opposing teams’ receivers suffer from a sense of ennui.
- And for $10, I will stand on the sidelines and inform the opposing team that I don’t much care for their color scheme.
Something else I learned this weekend is that if I ever run across these bitches in public again, someone’s going to get beat to death with a frozen halibut.
Ok, this picture was taken in the grocery store a few hours before the Super Bowl, which reminds me of something else that I learned this weekend: Never go grocery shopping right before the Super Bowl. The place was fucking packed, and what’s worse, it was packed with seniors who felt that the grocery store right before the Super Bowl was the social event of the season. I cannot tell you how many times I took part in this conversation:
Male Geezer #1: So, who do you want to win?
Me: Excuse me, can I get through here?
Male Geezer #2: Well, I’m from Iowa, so I don’t have any skin in the game, but I think I want the Seahawks to win.
Me: You’re kind of just standing here, blocking the entire aisle, so if I could just…
Female Geezer #1: I don’t like football, so I don’t really care who wins! Hahahahaha!!!
Me: Wow, really? You can’t just step two feet to the side? Is it that hard?
Female Geezer #2: Me too! I just watch for the commercials! Hahahaha!!!
Me: Excuse me, do any of you know if they sell shotguns in this store?
All Geezers: Hahahaha!!!
Anyway, the last thing I needed to get was in the produce section, which is where I ran across the wastes of genetic material pictured above. You can’t really tell, because I just moved an empty cart out of the way, but they had barricaded themselves in front of the mushrooms and were furiously placing them into a bag. Seriously. It was as if some demented serial killer had called them and said, “You have three minutes to pick exactly 463 mushrooms and bring them to the express lane, or I will execute your cat.”
They were crazed. I never thought that I’d see anyone pick non-psychedelic mushrooms in a maniacal manner, but here it was, right in front of me. It was so strange that I thought to take this picture.
Finally, I decided that whatever random mutation caused this sort of idiocy, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it for longer than necessary, so I walked around the barricading cart to the right and said, “Excuse me, can I get in here for a second?” Both of these women looked up at me with sheer panic in their eyes, and then without saying a word, went back to their furious picking, only now they were picking twice as fast.
Making matters worse, when I finally just reached my arm over to get what I wanted, the fuckwit in green performed a move that anyone who has ever played or watched basketball would recognize. She boxed me out!
It was clear to me that what was going on was that these two vacuous fucktards wanted ALL the mushrooms, and were prepared to go to any length to make sure that they got them. Why? Who fucking knows? Finally, I moved the other barricading cart, and when this distracted the Green Monster, I reached over and grabbed a package of what I wanted. Seeing that this did not deprive her of a single mushroom, she said, “Oh.” Then she and her friend placed the carts behind themselves again, and went back to their furious mushroom picking.
Normally, I would have responded with my patented Grocery Store Embarrassment Technique of Doom, but I was rattled by the entire encounter, and could not wait to leave so I could mainline grain alcohol in an attempt to forget the entire sordid affair.
I also learned that you should wait to get home to mainline grain alcohol as it is frowned upon when you are driving.
I also learned that Peter Cetera once sang a duet with the chick from Wings, which has to be in the running for the silliest sentence I’ve ever written. It is also a fact that I would have gladly gone the rest of my life without learning. Here, watch this:
Jesus, that song seemed like it went on forever tonight, didn’t it? Anyway, what have we learned from this monstrosity? First of all, we have learned that Peter Cetera spends most of his waking hours getting shitfaced in a smoky bar. Second of all, we have learned that the chick from Wings has horrendous taste. I mean, really: Was Michael Bolton busy or something? (She does redeem herself at the end when she walks by him and pretends that she doesn’t know him. Peter Cetera gets a lot of that, I imagine.)
And finally, I learned that the chick from Wings (Crystal Bernard) was tasked with replacing Joanie and Chachi on Happy Days:
This, I feel, was a mistake on the part of the Happy Days producers. Crystal Bernard is an attractive and intelligent young woman. You know how stupid she would have to pretend to be to replace Joanie and Chachi? It’s too much to ask of any actor (although I bet Peter Cetera would consider crossing over to give it a shot).
An interesting aside, while looking for that photo of Crystal Bernard in Happy Days, I found another, racier photo of her in some lingerie alongside the question, “Has Crystal Bernard ever been nude?” which is another thing I learned: People on the internet are even stupider than I had been giving them credit for.