JERK OF THE WEEK: Walt Goes to the Super Bowl, Part 3
Last week, I wrote Walt Goes to the Super Bowl, Part 2, which involved going to a $400 "Leather and Lacy" party and nearly freezing to death in unusually frigid Houston weather. On the bright side, I was given a free cheese pizza even though I paid the price by letting some pervert take my picture with it. Wait, scratch that. He's not a pervert. Pizza porn is a real thing now, and I want to be politically correct, so whacking off to someone holding a free pizza is absolutely normal!
I'm not sure if chocolate muffin porn is a thing, but that's the food item I was eating the following morning. I woke up in a haze, as Leigh Steinberg's Super Bowl party was scheduled for noon, and I didn't get to bed until around 4 a.m. I felt like I wanted to collapse and die, but the chocolate muffin definitely helped. I felt invigorated after that, so for all you parents out there reading this, don't believe the "part of this complete breakfast" slogan that cereal syndicates lie about in their commercials. Just feed your children chocolate muffins for breakfast, and they'll grow up just fine.
I have to thank Charlie for getting this chocolate muffin for me while he was at Starbucks. I also have to thank him for helping me with my tie. I've made it known on countless occasions that I absolutely loathe ties, and I actually think that ties are like dog leashes for men in a capitalistic society. I say this as a believer in capitalism - I own a small business after all - but ties are effectively things that CEOs can pull on to make their employees heel, sit and fill out TPS reports. I think they're absolutely horrid - so much so that I'm going to recommend my wedding guests not to wear ties on my big day. My fiancee gave it the green light, so that's what I'm going with!
Unfortunately, ties were recommended for this event. Prior to attending, I asked what the dress code would be like. I was hoping for a response like, "Just wear pajama pants because, like you, we want to make them in style, since they're the most comfortable things ever." My heart sank when I was informed that most people would be wearing suits and dresses. I don't think a dress would look good on me - being a fat man, I'm a bit self-conscious, in case you couldn't tell - so I had to settle for a suit. Luckily, Charlie knew how to tie a tie; otherwise, I would've been royally screwed.
Sick of spending countless millions on cabs, Charlie and I opted for an Uber this time, which ended up being a lot cheaper. I've never been in an Uber before this weekend, so I have some thoughts on that.
1. Because Uber is so much cheaper than taxis, why do the latter still exist? I'm assuming it's because old a**holes like me don't really know what an Uber is, nor do we know how to install Uber apps on our phones. Is this gizmo something that comes with the new phones? If so, do you have to worry about these new phones blowing up? If not, how much do you have to pay for it? And if you get it, can you try using an Uber through that new virtual reality technology that people use in the commercials?
2. What happens when taxi drivers are fed up with Uber taking all of their business? What if they start a war with the Uber drivers by intentionally crashing into them? That's what I would do if I were a failing cab driver. You heard it here first: World War III is soon upon us.
3. Aren't people scared of Uber drivers being serial killers? People are so trusting and just get into Uber drivers' cars, but did they not learn anything from their childhood? Did their parents not teach them to avoid taking candy from strangers? How is taking a car ride as an adult any different? If I were a serial killer, I'd drive unsuspecting victims around, make them disappear, and then use their phone to vote me as a five-star driver so no one suspects anything.
I feel like this is the best time to be a serial killer since the early 1900s. Thus, if you're a capitalist like me, you should buy up all of the serial killer tools and gadgets because the prices of those will surely go through the roof in the near future.
Fortunately, both Charlie and I escaped Houston unharmed, unless nearly being frozen to death counts. Steinberg's Super Bowl party actually happened to be at the same location the "Leather and Lace" party happened to be the night before, so it was nice that we were familiar with the venue. It was also great that we actually had invitations to this event. No 350-pound bouncers were going to pummel us into the ground this time!
Despite being familiar with this location, it was still incredibly easy to get lost. Let me tell you: This place was absolutely huge, and there were so many people! When I was first invited, I thought it might just be an enhanced version of a regular Super Bowl party, with maybe 75 to 100 people. I figured I'd just stand awkwardly in the corner as everyone else talked about fun things in their lives, ignoring me in the process. Little did I know that I'd probably be doing the same thing in a building with thousands of people gathered for this event.
I'm not exaggerating when I say there were thousands. It was absolutely packed, and it truly was a great networking event. Charlie and I made some cool contacts. Some happen to work for NFL teams. Others happened to be security guards working the event. We had a half-hour-long conversation with one of the security guards, who happened to be pretty cool. She was an older woman, but she said she would get us into the "Leather and Lace" party that was happening again tonight, but she wasn't scheduled to work.
Security Guard: You guys can probably hide in the bathroom. I won't tell.
Me: What about the bathroom attendant?
Security Guard: Oh yeah, I reckon that would be a problem.
Damn bathroom attendants! Can't a man just wash his hands by himself? I hate getting soap put into my hands by these bathroom attendants because then I'm obligated to tip them. Well, the whole point of washing your hands is to clean them after touching money, so that defeats the whole purpose! What's worse is that I reached into my pocket, thinking I pulled out a $1 bill. It was a $10, and the attendant's eyes lit up.
Bathroom Attendant: Oh wow, you're so generous, sir!
Me: I- erm- uhh- damn it.
I know this sounds like a first-world problem, but believe me, first-world problems are the worst sort of problems. There's no starving Somalian or Swedish child who wants to trade roles with me right now.
In all seriousness, we saw some well-known people there. Charlie took a picture with FOX News' Jesse Waters. I spotted Ron Jaworski, J.A. Adande, Kordell Stewart, Eddie George, Kevin Sumlin, Michael Silver, and others. It's weird seeing someone you've always watched on TV. I can't remember how many times I spotted someone and thought, "Wait, where do I know them from?" and by the time they walked away, I realized who they were.
Meanwhile, the food was fantastic. I ate lots of cheese, of course, but the best item they had was this sort of meat, which might have been one of the best things I've ever tasted. I've had five wet dreams about this meat thing since I've returned home from Houston.
Anyway, I'd say the most interesting non-celebrity we talked to at this party was some sort of woman who happened to be a model for some sort of makeup company or whatever. She told Charlie and me that she enjoyed traveling the United States and that she loved living out of a suitcase. I considered telling her that A) Living out of a suitcase wasn't impressive, since bums live out of cardboard boxes all the time, and B) I didn't even like the idea of leaving my house, but that may have made me seem weirder than usual.
After leaving Steinberg's Super Bowl party, Charlie and I decided to walk in a direction until we found somewhere cool to eat or grab a beer. There were two issues with this, however:
1. If I had just pilfered all of the aforementioned meat things and stuffed them into a school bag, like any savvy food connoisseur, we could've avoided finding a restaurant. How could I be so stupid? People, if you're in a similar situation, don't be an idiot like me. Bring a school bag so you can take home all the delicious meat things and cheeses.
2. My back was absolutely killing me. I don't know if I've mentioned this yet on Jerks of the Week, but I have the worst back of all time. Well, it's technically not my actual back; I tend to get muscle spasms all around my back. In fact, if you press down one spot on my back (right-middle), my entire body will jolt. This, unfortunately, is not a sexual thing in the slightest. My whole body just spazzes out. I'm not sure if this is the root of my back woes, but I struggle if I'm on my feet for a half hour without sitting down. Well, I was standing at Steinberg's Super Bowl party for a good four hours, and I was in dress shoes to boot.
It felt like my back was going to collapse onto itself when we finally found a dining establishment: Urban Eats.
I should've known that this place would suck, and it did. Why? Because of the name. Urban Eats. Who wants to eat urban-type things? There are usually one of two things in urban establishments: cockroaches, and new-age hippie douches who spend all their money on Starbucks coffee. I'm not sure which one is worse. Would you rather eat things with cockroaches in them, or stuff that new-age hippie douches enjoy? This is a serious question.
Just take a look at these food items:
Every single item on this menu has something disgusting in it. The Cowboy seems like the best thing, but fried onion strings? Why in God's name would anyone put fried onion strings in a cheeseburger? That's like putting diarrhea in macaroni and cheese. I don't know, I'm sure there are some people who like fried onions, but I've been allergic to onions ever since I had a nightmare about them three years ago. I dreamt that I was eating nothing but a bowl of onions, and I had to vomit upon waking up. I'm now allergic to them. I won't break out in hives or anything, but I'll have a nervous breakdown if I eat one.
Let's talk about the other crappy things on the menu:
Cowgirl: Spicy pepper relish - Sounds terrible
Southern Chicks: lime garlic mayo - Mayo is bad enough, but now they want to add lime to it? Curse these new-age hippie douches!
Green Eggs & Ham: bacon jam - I don't like jam, period.
Mob Boss: eggplant - Eggs aren't plants, a**holes! They come from chickens!
Reuben & Rebecca: mustard - I'm also allergic to mustard. I think ketchup is the only condiment I'm not allergic to. Because ketchup tastes good.
Brasserie: beef cheek - Does anyone find it weird that these douches serve cheeks? You kiss cheeks; you don't eat them!
Fried Green Tomato BLT: tart green tomato - Maybe it's because I was tired, but I swear that said "fart green tomato" when I was reading it live.
Red Cabbage Slaw: slaw - Slaw can just go to hell as far as I'm concerned.
Sorry Charlie: pickled carrot tartar sauce - What the hell is "pickled carrot tartar sauce?" Is that code for "cockroach guts?"
I ended up getting a wedge salad, which was OK. We caught an Uber ride home afterward, and the driver talked about how there were 58 hospitals in the city of Houston. He went into full detail about this, presumably because he wanted to bore Charlie and me to sleep so that he could take us back to his apartment and slice us open. Despite being tired, I made sure I remained vigilant.
Charlie took a nap afterward. I hate naps because I can't sleep that night if I take one, so I powered through some work. About two hours later, Charlie asked if I wanted to get dinner. Apparently, he didn't like Urban Eats either. If only we found a restaurant called Suburban Eats. That would've been so much better.
Again, Charlie and I walked around, but this time near the hotel. Our hotel happened to be right near NRG Stadium, where the Super Bowl would be played the following night. Naturally, there were lots of restaurants around the sporting complex, including not one, but two Taco Cabanas!
Me: What about Taco Cabana? That seems like a glorious place!
Charlie: I was told it was the worst Mexican place in the city of Houston.
Me: But... but... there are tacos... and a cabana...
We settled on another Mexican restaurant. You may have never heard of it if you're not from Houston. It was this exotic Mexican place called Chipotle. You should check it out if you ever go to Houston. The food isn't all that great, but their soda machine has Mr. Pibb - perhaps the greatest soda ever made!
After we finished eating, we returned back to the hotel. It was perfect timing that we got a text from Charlie's friend again with plans for tonight. I was hoping we'd go back to the "Leather and Lace" party, despite knowing that the supermodel bartender there could make me drink the blood of virgins. A small price to pay.
The "Leather and Lace" party wasn't on the agenda, however. Instead, Charlie's friend sent a code that would get us into our first stop: the Ebony party.
Yes, that's right. Charlie and I attended the Ebony party at the Super Bowl. And then, we went to the Playboy party. Unfortunately, time has expired, and I feel like I've typed 50,000 words already, so you'll have to stay tuned for next week to read about our experiences at those two parties. In the meantime, stay vigilant while taking rides with serial-killer Uber drivers!