Alex Balk

Things you remember WAY TOO LATE.

There’s a reason you stopped doing Jello Shots after college.

I believe.

I’m not big on predictions, and lord knows I don’t want to jinx anything, but I will say this right now: If the New Orleans Saints win the Super Bowl today, I will propose to Kim Kardashian. Anyway, now I go offline and PRAY. Go Saints.

Also, Go Saints.

The Awl turned into a sports blog today!

Drawings in a Hurry: Better When Warmed

Half Baked: White People’s Artichoke Dip

Half Baked: Guacamole by the Ceviche Method

Iced Out: Hey, Did You See Lindsey Vonn’s Butt? Plus: Speedskaters!

Smart, Sportsy Things For You To Say During Super Bowl XLIV

Also, I heard Choire having a phone conversation in which he was trying to sound like a bro. He literally ended the call by saying, “Awesome, dude!” Related? WHO KNOWS?

Alex Balk Literally Helps Old Ladies Cross The Street

I’m walking up 2nd Avenue and about to turn on 15th Street when I see an elderly woman leaning on a pushcart stopped at the corner. She gives me the searching look that always indicates someone is about to ask you for a favor.

“Excuse me,” she says. “Can you help me get across the street? If it’s not inconvenient.”

Well, of course it is inconvenient. I’m going the other way. To where liquor is. But after I overcome my immediate New York reaction of “What kind of scam is this?” I nod and tell her certainly.

“I’m an old lady. I’ll never make it across in time. I don’t want them to turn on me,” she says, indicating the 2nd Avenue traffic. “Plus, I’m a cripple. I fell. And I’m an old lady.”

“You don’t look old to me.”

“I’m nearly 90!” she beams.

The light is about to change and she wheels her cart close to the edge of the sidewalk. I’m wondering what the procedure is here. Do I take her arm? Offer to push her cart? I don’t know what the appropriate behavior is regarding touching the elderly. I move close to her and figure I’ll let her lead. She seems perfectly happy to just stand beside me.

“Are we ready?” she asks.

We are. As we begin to cross the street she keeps talking.

“They told me if I fall again I could break a hip. Because I have osteoporosis. Oooh, he’s turning!” she says, pointing to a car on the other side of the street that is coming on to the avenue.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t hit you.” What seems like ten minutes go by until we make our way across.

“I’ll be fine here,” she says. “You’re a very kind person. I hope someone helps your old grandmother if she ever needs help.”

I thank her and make sure that she’s okay as she continues down the block, and then I reverse course and head back the way I was going in the first place, thinking about how difficult it must be to be old and alone in this town.

As it happens, both of my grandmothers are dead, so whatever karmic retribution she’s just wished me will not be repaid in the specified manner. But at the very least I figure I can be a real dick this weekend and it’ll all balance out.