Check Out This Douche

Why stop at balls for your car? Get bicycle balls. Or doorknob balls. Just put balls on every single thing you own. C'mon, don't be lazy.

Talented

Oh, here we go. Girls breaking out into a sugary ballad in the middle of a study session. Let me tell you, memorizing John Mayer's latest ditty won't get you anywhere in my book.

Thing is, Sky'lar seems to think its a real treat for everyone to overhear her rather lackluster singing voice. This might even be amusing if it wasn't clear this girl is trying dangerously hard to win compliments. Yeah, good for you, you got a singing solo at church that one time. This isn't something I can say for myself, I'll admit. But man, there's a time and a place! Save it for choir practice, Sky.

Lingerers, man

You're on my list. Yes you, lingerer douche. Right at the top.

Can I be honest with you? I'm starting to regret ever letting you into my house. When you mentioned over the telephone that you wanted to "drop in and say hi" i thought it would be, at the very least, less than an hour long visit. Bad enough you brought your mom along as your sidekick. You failed to mention this earlier, and now it's my job to politely deal with this batty old woman. I mean, damn, I'm happy you're getting that unsightly tree in front of your house torn down, but I gotta get up in the morning! Feigning interest isn't really a skill of mine and I can't be entertaining you through all hours of the night. So, to save myself the embarrassment of bluntly professing "i want you gone", I let my body language do the talking. For the record, excessive yawns, darting eyes and glassy stares are a sure sign that you have overstayed your welcome. Be a little more perceptive, for both our sakes, and don't ignore these essential intimations. Unfortunately, in this case, these signals are flying over your head with an audible whoosh.

Long story short, (too late!) you don't want to be the lingerer. Hell, that's right up there with hasslers. Some advice to live by: get the hell out.

The Assholes of the Internet

If there's one prime asshole hangout, it's the internet. Where anonymity is handed out like free Chick-fil-a samples (delicious), being shunned from society is no longer an issue! (Unless, of course, you are the type to engage in online disputes and throw merciless insults to strangers you can't even see, in which case, more power to you.) And then there's these guys- just plain clueless. Yahoo Answers is evidently, for these, a haven:

(real life Yahoo Answers question)

"How would you describe colors to a blind person?"

Just absurd. If you want a legitimate answer, don't go looking for it from the losers of yahoo answers. That was simply dumb on your part. Everyone knows they're only good for knowing links to free online movie sites.

So, here we have an example of the internet douche at work:

Joseph the Second: WONDERFUL Question ! I wouldn't know where to BEGIN to Answer it !!! :)

Look, 'seph. I can call you 'seph, can't I? Or would you prefer to be called JosII. Either way, you suck. I admit, you're sarcasm in this situation is justifiable, as this person (let's call them Joan) obviously has some things to learn about life in general. Number one being that if you ask ridiculous questions on Yahoo Answers you'll just end up with a Joseph the Second- the internet asshole. My question to you, JosII, is why you would take a minute out of your day to taunt an (admittedly ridiculous) stranger. I see you threw in a little smiley face in an attempt to conceal your inner douche. Well that's not gonna make things better, Jos. The damage is done. I'm pretty sure Joan is officially hurt by your response. Poor Joan. She just wanted to know how to describe "red" to Pep Pep who can't exactly see anymore. His memory is shot, and he can't even visualize colors these days. Way to let down Pep Pep, JosII.

Well, Well, Well: Second Edition

Well, look who it is again. Guy in the gray shirt and myself are certainly confused...That tree there is sure giving you a nice hiding spot. What are you doin with your life?! Sabotaging a harmless biker's ride? Maybe you should try giving all these idiot walkers "tickets" for jumping out in front of cars, assuming they'll always stop for them.

Roughly five minutes later: [apologies for lack of better snap shot]

[not just the one, but two "policemen" have "pulled over" someone who is surely thinking 'who the fuck are these guys?']
What an accomplishment! You probably saw this poor soul of a biker meander through that stop sign you were without question guarding. Justice must be served! Oh wait! No helmet? Call in reinforcements.

In all of roughly five minutes these sorry excuses for cops ruined a cyclists day. Great Job! I'm sure that cyclist would have cause a five car pile up if it weren't for you two.

Seriously?

Oh No.

This is just inappropriate, douche. I not only don't want to see any Impala's anywhere on the road, I also don't want to see your Impala lookin ridiculous with those rims. I don't know what those are trying to say; maybe because it's too loud to comprehend or perhaps a different language, but I'm not trying to listen. I'm no car enthusiast, but I am enthusiastic enough to say get that shit out of here.  

Kens: Change Your Look

Hey Guy, you don't seem that into this chick. (I don't blame you.) You you should probably make up your mind.

However, this douche hair you got and lipstick-verging lips are not about to fly. You, frankly, are not using any positive features to your advantage. They're being used to complete disadvantage. Don't be fooled by Barbie's on and off relationship; you don't want to look like Ken. It's time for you to be revamped!

Some girls find the "baby face" Ken look you have a go-for; the others don't. Unless, however, you can pull it off the right way!

-Sadly plastic surgery is unrealistic for the majority; I hear Carmex is addictive.

-Even if this tan you got is natural, I don't want to bask in this type of sunshine you're radiating. 

-Burls will get you no where in life. From a woman's point of view, picking up the tweezers is easy. Judging from the burl influx in the male population, it must not be easy for your masculinity. You're either gonna be plagued with these horrendous, overgrown brows for the rest of your life, or you better find a guy way of fixing them.

- The white polo dress shirt is nice. Nice for nice events. Maybe I'm being obtuse, but I don't think you are in a suit-attired situation. Save the dress shirts for then.

-Haircuts ARE necassary. The thick, waviness might work better with a shorter 'do so it doesn't throw off that vibe.

Reading too much into it? Perhaps! (must be a similar theme on this blog)

Just some thoughts.

Ah, hot air balloon.

The Ideal Life: travel by hot air balloons

An Inside Ant Battle: The Ants Are on Top of Their Shit

Breaking News!
Moments ago a granola bar wrapper was placed on a surface.
Attention was said to be diverted for approximately two mintues.
Suddenly, a casual glance down revealed several ants all ready going at the empty wrapper.
The ant swarm seems to be ready for battle.

I've Had Enough

Alright, Ant. That's it. You're on my shit list.

I didn't leave my white soda next to my bed so that I could get in on your family reunion. I can understand if one of you guys came around, but seriously Ant, did you have to bring the whole clan?? You're a fucking ant, I know how big your families tend to be. Armies, us humans call them. That's a pretty big number you're drawing into a way-too-close proximity to my sleeping quarters. Now you're going to have to watch as they are all burned to death in a lightning bolt of acidic Raid. Well, that's on you, Ant. You thought it would be a good idea to bring Ant Carol and Uncle Ant around for a free meal. Great, now they're dead! And so are you. (spritz spritz spritz)

I'm sorry you had to learn the hard way that there are no freebies in life.

photo: The Ant Bully

The Humans are Dead

Ah, yes. The lowest common denominator. An American classic!

Bragging to your boys that you got with that drunk chick? Hey, look at you. You've earned those gloating rights! That took a lot of charming on your part. But when it comes down to it, I have a sneaking suspicion you crave the approval of your fellow bros more than the presence of a female. Seems a little gay to me. Which I would be okay with, if you weren't trying to come off as the exact opposite. You're super masculine, god dammit! And you need everyone to know it.

Anyhoo, the picture above is of an actual iPhone app, full of classic lowbrow zingers. Spot on, I say! LCDs will eat this up with a spoon. Not even clever or inventive. Just lazy. The dumped girl eating ice cream out of the carton? Sheesh, this was a tired gag even when Sister Sister did it in the 90s. Get with the program!

'he Fuck?!

[actual photograph]

What the fuck man? You're straight trifling. Discarding your gross fake nails on the floor. You've got issues. Not only some insecurities about your fingernails, but littering is bad for all. Alright, so maybe you didn't intentionally put it there. Maybe it just fell off on your finger and onto the floor, and you didn't notice. (You better not have seen it fall and then left it there.) How embarrassing! But let's cut to the chase: 1. If you're going to wear fake nails at all, make sure they fucking stay on, and, 2. Get over yourself and try some nail polish.

If You Raise Your Hand One More Time

The sound of your voice makes me cringe inside. Seeing your hand, slowly at first, and then suddenly, shoot up to the sky, while your eyes beam towards the teacher makes me involuntarily roll my eyes. (Although I'd do it voluntarily.) I know what's coming, and I all ready don't like it. You're the person who answers rhetorical questions. You answer any question you hear with another mundane response. Even if this time it's something insightful, no one hears it, because no one has been paying attention to you since the first week of school. Why don't you just teach the class? I hear your voice more than the teacher's. You're opinion is tired, and I'd much prefer it on a secondary level, if I have to be subjected to it at all. The thing with a discussion is everybody contributes AND listens. Your contribute:listen ratio is skewed so far out of proportion that you need to shut up for about a year. I'll let you in on a secret: I've actually seen the teacher sigh when---once again---your hand was the only one available to call on.

Look At This Asshole

[picture from Google images]

40 degrees in October? I'm pissed already.
While I'm freezing my ass off getting from A to B, I was oh so lucky enough to spot you, a douche-at-first-sight. Just LOOK at this asshole! Wearing shorts and a t-shirt, just cruising around with that look on your face. I KNOW that you're cold. Please, don't try and tell me you're not. I might believe you if your skin was shielded in any way, but since there's a definite wind chill from the arctic blowing directly on your bare arms and legs, there's no way in hell you're comfortable. Period. Put a fucking jacket on and wipe off that asshole mug. No one wants to see that.

P.S. No one needs to be giving out the crazy eyes to a winter hat. It's cold, and anyone should know that warmth to your head is the first step.

Check Out This Douche

Here, we have the latest (albeit first) installment of COTD, or "cotid" if you will.

Spot the douche: can you find what's wrong with this picture?*

*1. If I counted right, D is wearing FIVE polos. What a catch!

*2. He angled this pic just right so that his Scarface poster was in view. Great job!

Check back weekly for more real-life douche photos! Hell, send us some of your own if you got 'em! You could have them featured on this prominent website.

Picture props to photobucket.com. Next week's photo will be an Emmag(ann?) original, I just got lazy.

Hasslers, man

Don't be a hassler. That's not the kind of reputation you want haunting you. It was a horrible twist of fate that I ended up sitting next to you, so let's just try and make this as painless as possible. Is that fair? Coming late into this exam, it dawns on me why the seat next to you was the only one open. Everyone else could sense it. And by "it" i mean they knew you to be The Hassler Douche. My fellow classmates were smart enough to get here when other seats were available, and I envy them.

I blame you, Hassler Douche. It isn't necessary to attempt a newfound "bestie" status with the stranger sitting adjacent. I just woke up from a nap, I feel terrible, and unlike you, I probably am legitimately unprepared for this test. I don't need you cracking jokes in my direction about how hard this test will be to get me on your side. I will never be. Oh, you are a worthy foe, I'll give you that. I sense that you are going to be a challenge. Yeah, ok, I'm up to it. But just how far will I have to go to shut you down, or at the very least, shut you up? In a better world, I would stand, find a comfy spot on the floor, and continue with my test there. Free of Hassler Douche.

The Life of the Party

Want to know the truth? Because the title suggests the exact opposite. Oh, the irony.

So anyway, you're an asshole. The buzzkill. Ouch. Quite a reputation you've made for yourself already, even though I've been in this car all of 30 seconds. That's quite a record in my book. Great job!

I mean, two hot chicks (that's us!) just hopped in next to you and, like most who interact socially, asked you your name. You decide to withhold this information to the point of no-holds-barred dick. “Suck my balls, I don’t gotta tell you my name! Get the fuck outta this car if you don’t like it!” Well, you certainly know how to make a first impression, I’ll give you that much. Now, I can tell this guy is frustrated. Not because he’s so keen to make a douche of himself, but because two ahead-of-the-curve assholes (that’s us!) just infringed on his bro-time in the car. He wants to be the biggest asshole, dammit! Pardon me. I was only invited in, ya dope! I was shocked that your buds didn’t use their feet to shove you out of the car. I know I was pretty close. I’m pretty sure these dudes would rather you left than force out the already overwhelmingly small female ratio. It’s all about the ratio, after all.

Your problem is you haven’t stumbled upon the true brilliance of being the asshole. You just need to fine-tune your disposition. It’s all about subtlety, man! Let’s sit down some time, just the two of us. I could teach you a thing or two about the grace of a beguiling a-hole.

Oh, now you're really pushing it

Nice. No, actually, I'm appalled. I just feel like you're really trying to push me over the edge on this one. Oh, I know what you're thinking- It's October, so it's time to break out a few costume-y pieces. I'll just say one thing: Big mistake. You really can't wait two weeks to bring these horrifying stretch pants out of the closet? Quite frankly, I think setting fire to the two-legged fiasco in a towering blaze would be appropriate. Just my two cents. Did you really think that smothering your legs in neon pink polyester was the best way to get the boys in American Government to notice your obscene camel toe? Just picturing you pulling those faux-pants over your thighs gives me the chills; I really feel I have lost all connection to humanity, if someone thought that this was a necessary addition to their wardrobe. Excluding Halloween. And even then I have my doubts. Leggings are not pants, and they are not to be worn as such. End of story.

Note from ed. :

Ok, we've been covering a lot of fashion blunders lately, and we'll try and cover some new territory. There is never a shortage of material! So don't worry about that. Because for a second there I feel like you were. I just felt that this disturbing item could not go ignored. I'm sure you won't disagree.

4 a.m.

Hey. You. Yeah, you there who decided 4 a.m. was an appropriate time for a snack. You're the reason we're standing in the parking lot in our pajamas with 400 of our closest friends at this ungodly hour. You can stand there and try to look inconspicuous in your boxers, but by morning the word will be out on how difficult you find the instructions on the back of the Ramen packet.

You're probably the kid that tried to dry his jeans in the microwave freshman year, too. Please, stop trying. This complex technology is obviously above you.

Gatherings Beware

So you got really excited to go chill with [friend/acquaintance/possible D.] You arrive to the event, and unbeknown-st to you, some others were invited and this is a gathering. Regrettably, you detect some Ds. Typical! You've changed your mind of this attendance decision all ready. You should have known. Thoughts about how long you actually have to stay and when is the "just making an appearance" cut off run through your head; you crave a u-turn. You're lucky if you just came from the giving tree*.

Say a gathering decides to pop in a movie, you know you're in for a treat. Hands down there will be that douche who repeats every line of the lame comedy [description confirmed on account of the giving tree's gift] everyone thought was a good idea. Great Job! The D's seen this movie more than once. It's retarded, and it sucks to be you. That zinger was let alone painful enough to hear from the actor, but man did D for real have to repeat it .01 seconds afterward? Oh, please. Shut the fuck up all ready.


Sometimes worse than a movie scenario, is a gathering regulated by drinking games. Don't get sucked into playing anything with the sort of title like "fuck the dealer" or "cannonball." You can drink a beer without someone counting your gulps. You don't feel like mindlessly guessing a single card out of fifty-two nor do you think this is fun. Preferably you'd sit aloof [giving tree gave well tonight!] and in disbelief as to why every single one of them is playing that game. Alright, so if you gotta be an alcoholic a guilty participant sometime, you bet you better make it fun. A for real card game that requires some strategy is the way to go, obviously. Spades and drinking! Win-Win! Unfortunately, when there are Ds around, making this happen can be rare.

Hopefully you're smart enough to have pre-gamed and came prepared to this gathering [lord knows the giving tree is waitin for ya.] Somehow, and no one ever knows how this happens, the situation takes a right angle: the douchebags here are also squares. Crazy eye's focused on your drink? Seriously? Everyone else and their dad can enjoy a glass of wine or whiskey. In fact there are others here doing just that. Don't your nose up to me, D. No one is interested in (and isn't going to bother) your "clean" life style, so don't worry about mine. Next time consider peacefully declining something you think is unhealthy rather than dishing the shit out, which is point blank unhealthy for all.

All in all, sometimes the only gathering you need is with the giving tree.

 *a visit with Mary Jane

The Weekend Update

Hey, you. Yeah, you sitting there in the row in front of me. It's Monday again, and here we are in biology lecture. I was wondering if today I could opt out of your weekly weekend update? See, you're talking awfully loud and I can't hear the professor. And you're right, I don't want to listen to Dr. Whozit droning on about molecules for fifty excruciating minutes today. But the thing is, I want to listen to you even less.

If I'd woken up today and decided it wasn't a day for biology, well then I wouldn't have gotten out of bed. But since I put in so much effort to rouse and clothe myself, please try to contain the summary of your gloriously fratty weekend to under thirty minutes.

(P.S. For someone who was "so fucking wasted" that he doesn't "remember a fucking thing from Saturday night," you're giving us an awful lot of details of Saturday night.)

Remedy the D's

You find yourself stuck at a party that has unfortunately been flocked by a swarm of D's. If devastating circumstances make you unable to hit the U, at least try and have some fun before you leave. Also keep in mind: the maximum number of drinks in this particular situation is necessary. You must remember that these people are [drunk] stage 3 douchebags.
The best way to act when your gettin' hit some real "clever" comments by some Ds is to throw 'em back with a curve ball.

Some dude thinks his motorcycle will impress: "Oh cool...you drove your motorcycle here? I sure hope it's not a goddamn Harley Davidson!" [Laughter.] [Silence.] Confused? Hurt? The D with the Harley is too.
The next douche tries to make you laugh by cracking a joke at one of his friends' expense; just give him a blank stare and then blatantly inform him you think he's lying. You could spot that lie from a mile away and calling him out is what needed to be done. Perhaps he wasn't lying, you'll still genuinely piss him off. Success!
D-bags are full of talk that will literally make you bite your tongue. Sometimes when you've simply had your limit, it's way too hard to resist messing with them. Be an asshole for a day! The D certainly deserves it.

Well, well, well

Look who's the bitch of the station.

I hate to say it, but no one is taking you seriously on that 1995 Schwinn of yours. I guess that big pay raise you were pining for went to Bob in the Parks Department. Well, there's always next year! But for now, you can rest easy tonight knowing you've taken one less bike-traffic offender off the streets. Noble. Keep that in mind when your fellow officers are pointing and tittering behind your back and when your wife decides it's time to move out.

At what point did your life take this horrible turn? Get back to me.

Muscle Shirts: Society in Disgrace

There's something to be said for self-respect. I see you wearing that muscle-baring shirt with gaping armholes, revealing the entirety or your torso (complete with male side-boob), and I see someone who wishes to clue the world in on their absurd delusional fantasy. In what situation is it necessary to have arm holes that big? I've got a hint for you, Mr. Exposed Hip-Bone. There isn't one. Oh, you need the breathing room? For those oh-so-sculpted 'ceps, I assume.

Look pal, I don't know if its your weight trainer or your gym buddy, but someone is giving you the wrong idea. You simply don't have an impressive physique. Nor the vast muscles that your "tank" (what do I even call this catastrophe?) seems to suggest you do.

No, somehow I get the feeling your shoulder would fit comfortably in an arm hole about 8x smaller. Just a hunch.

Note from ed.

A sure-fire way to douche-detect:

1. Observe a male firgure.

2. If this woven bit of cotton is on his back, make a beeline for the opposite direction. There is no excuse for this attire. Not one, do you hear me?

(Seriously, I don't care if it's just hanging out of his gym bag, take a hike!)