"Yes, hello? Mooommmm! I told you to stop calling me! I'm waiting for important football calls!"

Bears rookie receiver Alshon Jeffery suffered a broken hand during the team’s 41-3 blowout win over the Jaguars this week, and the early reports are that it will keep him out for 4-6 weeks. In a story that might as well have been titled “BREAKING: Unemployed Man Wants Job,” ESPN asked Plaxico Burress if he’d be interested in joining the team to fill the void. That is, if they asked him.

“For me to get to a football town like Chicago and play with a group of guys like (Matt) Forte, Brian (Urlacher), (Brandon Marshall) and Jay (Cutler) would be an honor,” Burress said by phone on Tuesday. “I just have to get the green light.” [...]

“All it will take is a coach or GM to believe in me. I just need one. I think teams would be very happy with what I bring to the locker room and the field.” [...]

Burress, who is keeping in shape, said he planned to talk to his agent, Drew Rosenhaus, later Tuesday and would express his interest in the Bears.

“I’m going to tell him if an opportunity in Chicago presents itself, I want to go now,” Burress said. “I just want to go out and play.”

Now, admittedly, I don’t particularly care one way or another if Plaxico Burress signs with the Bears. Not even a little bit. The only reason I even mention all this is that it gives me an excuse to tell you about the time I overheard a woman mistakenly refer to Plaxico Burress as “Joey Plaxo.”

Here is how it all went down:

Right around the time Burress was dealing with all the legal issues related to shooting himself in the leg at a crowded nightclub, I was out to dinner with some friends. We had a very nice time. I had the prime rib, if I remember correctly. Seated at the table next to us was a middle-aged party of four: two men and two women, presumably coupled off in some fashion and on a double date. The two men were talking about football — the Eagles this, the Cowboys that — when one of the two women interrupted them and said this, which will be forever burned into my brain: “What’s the deal with that guy who shot himself? Joey Plaxo?”

Joey. Plaxo.

I have thought about it a lot since that day — seriously, A LOT — and the only explanation I have been able to come up with is that she confused Plaxico Burress, a black wide receiver who played for the New York Giants, with Joe Flacco, a white quarterback who played for the Baltimore Ravens and never shot himself in the leg and has a name that sounds nothing like “Plaxico Burress.” Either that, or she is the single greatest generator of off-the-cuff fake names I have ever come across. Seriously, Joey Plaxo.

Anyway, the moral of the story is that that lady was cool and “Joey Plaxo” would be a good name for a mobbed-up nightclub owner if you need one for your screenplay.