If you didn't read the previous Jerks of the Week entry, I'm going to spend the next four weeks discussing the plethora of Jerks of the Jersey Shore I found while on vacation the week of July 11.
Last week, I discussed the Jerks of the Beach. This time, it's Jerks of the Boardwalk, which will be followed by Jerks of the Pool, and then Jerks of the Hotel and Restaurants.
1. Flip Flops:
After spending nearly two hours on the beach during my first day of vacation - and getting sand kicked into my face by two hot chicks, as referenced last week - my sister Jackie, my cousin Megan and I decided to go to Gilligan's Waterpark, located at 8th and Boardwalk.
The trip proved to be very difficult for two reasons. First, my Adidas flip flops broke just as we left my hotel room. The Velcro fell off my left flip flop, so I had the choice of either buying new flip flops or walking all the way down to the waterpark with just my right flip flop. Since I didn't feel like being someone else's Jerk of the Week, I opted for the former.
We ventured into one store and walked to the flip flop rack. I couldn't spot any Adidas flip flops, but I found a pair of black ones that looked all right. I decided to buy them until I looked at the price tag. It was $25.
What the hell? Who spends $25 on pool/beach flip flops? I was expecting them to be $5, maybe $6. Instead, this damn store wanted me to take out a second mortgage on my house just to get a pair of crappy flip flops. "F*** this," I told my sister and cousin. "I'd rather spend my money on pizza and French fries."
So, did I walk all the way down to the waterpark with one flip flop on? I strongly considered it - until we found another store that sold the same pair of flip flops for $8.
Phew. What a relief. I was worried that I'd have to spend all my pizza and French fry money on stupid flip flops.
2. Fudge and Fat Kid:
I mentioned that there were two reasons why the journey to Gilligan's waterpark was arduous. The second was the distance. My hotel was at 12th and Boardwalk, and Gilligan's is at 8th and Boardwalk. For those of you who didn't use your nifty Windows calculator, that's four whole blocks!
I don't think many people have walked four whole blocks and lived to tell the tale. I mean, I'm sure some super-fit individuals have accomplished that feat, but I'm a fat slob. I didn't think there was any way I'd make four blocks. I held out hope that we'd find a barrel. I'd be able to climb inside the barrel and have someone roll me all the way to the waterpark. But then again, I'd have to pay them to do this, so I wouldn't be able to eat as much pizza and French fries. What a dilemma.
I somehow made to the waterpark. But before you congratulate me, I must admit that I had some help. Every block, there were two or three semi-hot chicks (all of whom coincidentally happened to be Russian) giving out free samples of fudge. I kid you not. They were giving away delicious chocolate and vanilla squares - for free. Fools! I would have bought those fudge squares for millions!
We stopped at every single free fudge vendor, which helped distract me from our long journey. Before I knew it, we somehow made it to Gilligan's Waterpark. It truly was a miracle. A fudge miracle.
One thing before I move on to what actually happened at the waterpark - I discovered that these fudge people gave away free samples every day. It really was a dream come true.
The following day, I was standing in line for some free fudge when I overheard the following exchange between a fat kid, his mom and one of the Russian fudge vendors.
Mom: What flavor fudge do you want?
Fat Kid: I want stwabeweey!
Mom: You don't have strawberry fudge, do you?
Fudge Chick: Umm... no, sorry. We only have chocolate, vanilla and cookies-and-cream.
Mom: They don't have strawberry.
Fat Kid: BUUUUT I WAAAANT STWAAAABEWWWWWYYYYYY!!!!
Fat Kid started crying, though he ultimately settled for cookies-and-cream. You know, now that I think about it, I probably would have also wept if I loved strawberry fudge.
3. Gilligan's Waterpark:
I found several jerks at Gilligan's Waterpark. If it wasn't for the girl at the front gate, I wouldn't even know where to begin...
3A. Mexican Chick:
I don't know if the girl at the front gate was Mexican. She was very dark-skinned. She wasn't black or Indian or Mongolian, so she must have been Mexican. I don't know any other races.
We arrived at Gilligan's at 5:05. The waterpark closed at 6, and it was $21.95 per person for two hours. Since we had less than an hour remaining, it only seemed reasonable that they would allow us in for half the price.
Me: Hey, you guys close at 6, right?
Mexican Chick: Yes.
Me: Do we still have to pay $21.95 since we're not getting the full two hours?
Mexican Chick: Yes.
Me: Really? We can't pay half for just one hour?
Mexican Chick: Nah.
Me: That's crap. It's not even one hour. It's 55 minutes.
Mexican Chick: Meh.
I think that's bulls***. Think about it this way - if McDonald's started cutting their cheeseburgers in half and still sold them for the regular price, people would be outraged, right? Well, I was furious about this. Screw you, communist Mexican chick.
We paid the $21.95 and an extra bulls*** $5 for a locker. Whatever. I'd have less money to spend on pizza and French fries, but I really wanted to go on water slides. Plus, there were hot lifeguards working there. More on them later.
The $21.95 ended up being a good deal. We only got 55 minutes out of it, but since it was so late in the day, there weren't any lines. We just went up the steps, sat down in the slides and rode our way down. It was awesome.
Well, awesome in theory. Going up the steps was extremely difficult. There were just so many of them. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the top, and I needed a break prior to going on the slides each time.
Before you blame this on my fatness, my sister and cousin were having similar issues.
Jackie: Is anyone else tired from all of these stairs?
Megan: Seriously. I'm exhausted.
Me: Huff... puff... huff... puff... wait a second, I want to say something... huff... puff... huff... puff...
As promised, here's a breakdown of Gilligan's female lifeguards. From what I remember, there were three chicks. The first one, who was standing at the lazy river, was a very average pale chick who seemed to like me. I caught her staring at me a few times. Well, she either thought I was attractive or wanted to steal my fancy-shmancy new $8 flip flops.
There was another female lifeguard standing on the opposite side of the lazy river facing the boardwalk. She was a tan brunette, and I remember thinking that she had the best legs I've ever seen.
The third lifeguard is the one I want to focus on, however. She was standing in the water at the bottom of the tube slides. Her job was to gather the people on the tubes and push them down one final slide.
This chick was attractive; she was more cute than hot. Since I was able to get really close to her when she pushed my tube down the final slide, I figured I might as well try to game her.
The first time...
Hot Tube Lifeguard: ...
Complete silence. Damn it. I later went down the tube slide again, and if at first you don't succeed...
Me: Hey, what's going on?
Hot Tube Lifeguard: ...
Nothing again. Jesus, what the hell does it take to get a word out of this chick?
I decided to try one more time. When I walked up the tube tower, there was a pair of giddy 14-year-old chicks standing in line in front of me. I tried listening into their conversation, but all they said was stuff like, "OMG OMG that lifeguard on the tall slides is like sooooo hot OMG OMG!"
At any rate, when I landed into the tube pool, I saw the 14-year-old chicks' double tube capsize. I figured why not make a joke out of this to Hot Tube Lifeguard?
Me: I think those girls are going to drown if you don't help them.
Hot Tube Lifeguard: Haha, I know, right?
Score! I was now THIS close to getting Hot Tube Lifeguard's number. Unfortunately, the waterpark closed and we were rushed out of there. Damn. If only I hadn't stopped to eat so much fudge on my way to the waterpark.
3D. My Aspirations:
One of the reasons I was so eager to go to Gilligan's Waterpark was because my parents used to take me there all the time when I was a kid.
As a 13- or 14-year-old, I used to look up to the lifeguards. Man, they had it made. They were grown up, and they had the best job in the world - they were lifeguards at an awesome waterpark. They could go down the water slides any time they wanted to. I was extremely jealous, and I secretly aspired to be a Gilligan's Waterpark lifeguard when I grew up.
It's now 15 years later, and I'm wondering what the hell I was thinking. I've come to realize that being a waterpark lifeguard isn't so glamorous after all. If you're not sitting atop the staircase, jealously watching people enjoying themselves while riding the slides, you're in the water, pushing around fat slobs in tubes like me. And sometimes the fat slobs hit on you.
If you happen to be reading this, Hot Tube Lifeguard, I apologize for making your crappy job even worse than it already is.
4. Night in Venice:
Our journey back from Gilligan's Waterpark to my hotel proved to be quite eventful. As we exited the waterpark and went back onto the boardwalk, we were immediately greeted by some sort of parade.
Cars slowly drove down the boardwalk. Each vehicle featured a hot-looking chick in a gown. The cars had signs that read "Night in Venice Competition."
Most of the girls looked somewhat embarrassed to be showcased like this, but not one particular chick in a blue dress. Instead of blushing or turning her head away, she waved slowly to all the observers as if she were some sort of queen.
And there were many observers - people just stood still stupidly, watching as each of the cars slowly drove by. It was like they were in some sort of trance. They seemingly couldn't stop watching this ambiguous Night in Venice competition.
At this point, I'm convinced that people would watch anything as long as there were slow-moving cars and attractive women involved.
That settles it. If I ever become rich, I'm going to put together a Night in WalterFootball's Bed competition. There will be loads of hot chicks and fancy shmancy cars, and millions will watch. It will be glorious.
5. Blah Blah Woman:
I mentioned last week that I type jerks I see into my phone and save it as a draft so I don't forget it later. That's precisely what I was doing regarding the Night in Venice competition when some Mexican lady pulled her son aside because I didn't see him and nearly trampled him while walking and texting.
The Mexican lady gave me an evil look and started shouting things that sounded like, "Blah blah blah blah blah."
I only know two Spanish words, taco and bell, so I have no idea what she was saying. If I had to venture a guess though, it would be:
"Move out of the way! This fat stupid American a**hole is leering at the hot chicks and texting on his cell phone, and he's not looking where he's going!"
It's true. I can usually multi task, but when there are hot chicks to look at, slow cars to avoid and jerks to write about, how do you expect me to avoid trampling your son, Mexican lady? That's just way too much to ask.
6. Free Hugs Homos:
Before Roger Goodell fines me $100,000 for using the dreaded H-word, I need to state that it wasn't my idea to call anyone a homo. Well, not directly.
As the Night in Venice parade subsided, my sister spotted two really skinny dudes walking around without t-shirts on. They painted the words "Free Hugs" onto their stomachs. Jackie quickly remarked, "That's the gayest thing I've ever seen." Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I won't call it gay. I'll call it unfair. It's quite common to see guys do this. Men walk around shirtless and paint stuff on their body all the time. Why can't women do this? Why can't they strut around completely topless and write stuff like "Free Hugs" on their body? Didn't women want equality and stuff? Well, I say if you want to vote, you should have to paint "Free Hugs" on your boobs. I think that sounds reasonable.
Actually, screw hugs. I want something better than hugs. Why not "Free BJ" or "Free Sex" or "Free Cheeseburgers?" Or... OR... "Free Sex and Cheeseburgers." Oh man. Why has no one thought of this before?
My sister and cousin weren't around the following night. I was by myself, so I thought it would be fun to try all the various awesome food on the boardwalk while walking around and looking at hot chicks.
That sounded like a great plan in theory, but it didn't work out so well. Minutes after buying a slice of pizza from Mack & Mancos, I noticed all of these shadows around me. I looked up and saw a flock of seagulls circling around me like vultures. I had to duck into the bathroom to finish my slice. The people taking a piss in the urinals probably thought I was crazy, but there was no way I was letting those a**hole pseudo-pigeons steal my precious pizza.
I really don't remember the seagulls being that bad. When I was a kid, I used to throw food at them and my mom would scold me. Now I know why. They've become monsters.
Now that I think about it, actually, the seagulls and I are so much alike - like me, the seagulls are fat slobs desperate for food. And I'm pretty sure the seagulls wouldn't pay $25 for flip flops either.
8. Bubble Blower:
Despite my pizza difficulties, my boardwalk feast continued. I saw a sign that said "The best fry you'll ever try!" I just had to have some.
These fries weren't the best. They were pretty salty, which is good because that clogs your arteries quicker, but I've had far better. Trust me, I'm an expert.
What was cool about this place was that they attached a plastic circular tray to the cup of fires, allowing you to pour ketchup into a little saucer and load it into the tray. No more ketchupy fingers - I was eating fries in style like a rich person.
I walked about a block down the boardwalk when I encountered the titular Jerk of the Week. There was this girl standing in front of a toy store. She was holding some sort of bubble gun. When she pressed the trigger, bubbles shot out of the gun. I wouldn't have given this any thought, but she shot the bubbles right out in front of me - and the bubbles were going into my precious French fries!
I reacted quickly. I shielded my French fries and fancy shmancy ketchup tray from the bubbles by awkwardly cuffing my left arm around the French fry cup. My tactic worked - none of the bubbles infected my French fries - but a pair of hot chicks wearing white tank tops must have been wondering what the hell I was doing because they both laughed at me.
Fine! Go ahead and laugh! The next time you're eating French fries, and some slut blows bubbles into your French fries and ketchup tray, you'll be sorry you didn't ask me to show you how to use my awesome shield French fry tactic.