Attention, Douches (that's all ya'll)

Follow the yellow brick road [][][][][][][][][][][]

Happy Birthday E ma lee!

Too Many Douche Chills

Your parents, your teachers, maybe even your local priest is on facebook these days. Good grief, I need to cut off this addiction soon. I don't know about the rest of the world, but I certainly cannot even scroll through my news feed with out stumbling into a huge douche chill.

"A moment ago" Blah-Blah-Blah posted: cant take this anymore.my heart is so broken.i cant go on like this anymore.im DONE! im sorry
OMG! Blah-Blah-Blah are you okay?? What happened, gurl?!
Is this the kind of reaction you were hoping for when you shared this information to the world? Save the sobs for your pillow, Blah-Blah-Blah. Do you really want the ENTIRE WORLD to know that you've either gone off the deep end or are about to commit suicide? I hate to be insensitive, but fuck! The douches of facebook need some plain old common sense. Be a little more selective when you're lonely and need to share something with your "friends." Heck, use the magic that is known as fiction. No one will know if you're lying about your happiness. Probably not even you, ya sad sack.


3 minutes ago Sally NoFace posted 27 new pictures in the album "New hair!" Oh fabulous! I was really wondering what the status was of your lovely mane. By the way, the new blond streaks look terrible. Were twenty seven pictures of you, with slight pose variances, in front of your webcam really necessary? Are you really the same age as me? I know that you need to show the world this great new 'do, but posting one might have been sufficient. Okay, who am I kidding? NONE would have been sufficient. Thanks again for the reminder, Sally NoFace, you're ugly!

There's not even an invitation to rescind, here.

Oh hey Winston! Um, who are you? It frankly looks like you're on the run from the law. Word of advice: don't expect strangers to let you in their apartment when you come randomly a knockin'. What is it about this apartment that 1. attracts randoms and 2. makes them think they're invited inside? Go away, douche. Go away, creeper. Who the hell are you and why did you decide to just walk in here? I'd like to rescind your non-existent invitation. I'm greatly confused by your presence. This presence I speak of is a creepy, over-looming fear that the feds are going to show up any minute to arrest you for god knows what. Did you not see me in the room next door when we asked you to leave #305? Why are you, five minutes later, knocking on #306 blatantly asking if you can come inside and "sit down"? Clearly, you're not welcome. It's kind of an engraved rule of thumb from childhood not to talk to strangers, let alone allow them to enter your humble abode. Please leave, Winston. And never come back.

Wolf Pack O' Douche

Let's talk animal shirts.
A cute little puppy screen-printed on your boring sweatshirt? A grandma at Christmas. (The puppy most likely has a red and green stocking cap on.)
A fierce lion face on your shirt? Props.

A wolf howling at the moon depicted on your tie-dyed gray t-shirt? You're a douche. Listen here D, wolf t-shirts cross a fine line: I'm just going to be completely honest on this one. The only people that can pull off a wolf t-shirt are, frankly, funny people...that look good. It distracts from the wolf tee. But let's get back to this fine line. When you walk into a party, 5 guys deep behind you, clad in this howling wolf, there are many red flags flying. Too many, in fact. And that's not even counting the other red flags flying due to the fact that no one here recognizes you! This wasn't a full blown house party, more like a small drink fest between friends. Thus, your presence is noticeable, very noticeable. And also  confusing---because no one really expects randoms to just walk into an apartment because "they saw people inside, and it looked like a party." Um? "Get the fuck out" perhaps would've been a good greeting. Luckily for the douche pack the men of the house were somewhat distracted and everyone else was too baffled to even politely ask the pack to leave upon first crossing the line. Needless to say, the wolf pack o' douche was eventually hunted down. (But not before trying to justify staying with an "oh it's cool, I've got a wolf tee!" No sir, that will not help your case.)

Downer Douche-chill

Wow. You are just killing my buzz, downer douche. As the night progressed, and drinks were consumed, you failed to be a happy drunk--the opposite actually. Please don't give me every detail of your sob story, I literally just met you. I'm very sorry your "finance" left you, your music degree didn't get you anywhere, and henceforth your band probably sucks. I apologize you don't know anyone in this city, and that your parents want you to move back home. Guess what buddy guy? Everyone's life sucks. You're damn right I got the blues. So when you're out drinking with society (what I'd like to think as trying to have a good time) please: save us the misery. Or maybe some better advice would be to not go out drinking alone. Douche, I'm starting to feel sorry for you. Move back home? Or at least away from me.

Dreads

There are several things to be dreaded in life.
We're talkin' utility bills, waking up with your face between the ass cheeks of dawn, working in the Mexican fast food industry... and yes, the tip jar.
Oh man how I dread the tip jar.

Look, sir. Or rather, scrawny teen with skin problem... I know where you're at. You get paid the absolute minimum when it comes to wages, and it hurts. It hurts bad. I know this because I am a fellow absolute minimum wagie. Yet you still have the one up on me. How you ask? That freaking tip jar you so nonchalantly placed under my nose. Unfortuneately, I hold no sympathy towards you and your empty tip jar. It deserves to be empty, y'asshole! You handed me food that was in a display case in front of the counter. Such service.
You're running a fine scam there and I tip my bonnet to you. But either we all get one, or no one does! Otherwise please spare me your wicked glare as I carefully avoid the tip section on my receipt*. I don't care if a generous citizen gives up their change but for real I don't get no damn tip jar at my place of business. Maybe if tip jars were enough to go around, we'd all be a lot more generous.

A special shout out to FroYo. Self-serve. Yet, somehow, a materialized tip jar. In short, up yours FroYo.



*I know you fucked up my order because I didn't sign the lousy tip portion of my receipt!!