Happy Turkey Day, Douchebags!

Typical Douche

I'd like to say that you were the typical douche in this situation. But you, sir, have gone above and beyond. Should I be giving you a pat on the back? Probably not.

Thing is, it took me a grand total of about three seconds to spot you as Typical Douche when I saw that fucking look on your face. You know the one I mean. That's some serious douchenozzling we're talking about here.

I knew I wouldn't want to spend even ten minutes riding in the back seat of a tiny car with you, even if it is in my personal interest to acquire those flagons of ale; quite frankly, I was dreading it. And you didn't disappoint. Oh, your sister's name is Emily? What are the odds. (Where is Walmart already!!)

Finally. Why, yes, I'd love some free booze! Oh, but little did I know... little did I know. I mean, superb job on scoring 2 handles of the golden sauce. Sneaking two big ol' bottles into your duster is skillful, I'll admit. But let's be serious for a minute. You really gonna make me pay for this brotha?? What a buzzkill. I don't really care that you ripped off a Walmart, Mr. Klepto-man. You just had to go and douche it up like nobody's business.

Additional douche of note: D trying to spin out his silver Mustang in the Walmart parking lot. Because that's what he does with his time. Anyone see that one South Park? Yeah, this guy's a fag.

That Person

Its not good unless you've got that person at your party. That person takes it too far. Everyone's laughing at their expense, and they don't even know it. Hey, gotta hand it to 'em. Person is out of control drunk! "How gangsta is that? Not gangsta at all." They're the one spewing on the tree at the corner of the road at the end of the night...and again later in the the trash. It's five o'clock somewhere, but five o'clock never ends for this person--they got no idea what time it is. Damn straight they showed up to this party prepared, crunk bag in hand. They arn't just breezin by, they're rolling through loud like a storm. About just as loud as when they fall down the stairs a few hours later. Twice.
Pull yourself together, wastey; you're makin a fool of yourself! Strobe lights are not for you, but let's all be honest, whats the deal with strobe lights? That person is waking up feelin good the next morning, feelin a margarita. Ahhh, why not skip the hangover and just keep it going? Tequila gives you a hug and never lets ya go. Needless to say, if you've felt that hug's grasp, there might be a good chance you've made your appearance as that person.
[photo props to some guy on flickr]

Damn

Oh great, here comes Stumbley. Never have been acquainted, Stumbley. However the first words of our interaction were of you bluntly asking for some of my whiskey. Alright, alright, I'll spot you a shot cause I feel sorry for you.
The cups no good for you? You literally turned down the cup I offered! You might as well be turning down the shot you had the nerve to ask for all together. No, you take it a step further and state that instead you'll just get a swig off my bottle. Seeing as it's too late for me to recall my generous donation, I'll hand over the bottle to your germs.
The second you grasped the bottle, a rude exclamation about how "warm" the bottle is slips your tongue. "Mother of God!!"
You just rudely criticized something that was given to you. A classic asshole douche.
We're outside, idiot! Sorry I'm not carrying around a bucket of ice.

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Sir or Madam in Room 305,

The ladies from below are becoming distressed.

Let me explain:

Like clockwork. Mid-evening, settling in after a "high-quality" meal, the racket begins.

I just have one thing to say. Did someone decided to hold wrestling tryouts in your 8 feet wide dorm room? I don't buy it. I also find it hard to believe you're finicky enough that you need to rearrange the entirety of the furniture in your room day after day. I'll just say this: I'd love, if only for one night, to believe that I don't live in the basement of a bowling alley. For now, I will be forced to bounce volleyballs off the ceiling in hopes that you get the picture. Sort of a "cease and desist" to the thunderous blows emanating from the ceiling. If changes are not made, I will be taking action. I'm hopeful you will be more mindful in the future.

Signed,

Agitated Dweller of Room 205

P.S.- Please shut the fuck up.

You're Welcome

Dude, we're both late for class. I know that. So as I rush through, I hold the door open behind me with one hand. So that you can take it as you walk through. This doesn't mean you can waltz through without so much as a thank you. Nay, without even acknowledging my presence. I'm not here all day to prop the door open for you. I was merely making sure it didn't slam you in the face. Don't worry, next time I'll go out of my way to make sure it does so.

Avert Your Eyes

Who made you designer? Because you need to stop spazzin' out! You got this frilly wire flower decor juxtaposed with a dull, navy-turquoise "modern 80's" geometric piece of outcry. On top of that the seats in here are calling out all three of the primary colors. Seriously, make up your mind. Even you decideded it was a lost cause when made the decision to neglect any upkeep. The ugly contrasting wallpaper is literally coming off the wall. Fluorescent lights? Must I say more? Insanity. We're in a place of food service, and the decorations around your weak buffets are exclusively fake fruit. I think you're a hypocrite. Meanwhile, the salad bar, only offering the damned iceberg lettuce, has a sorrounding decoration. And guess what? It's lushness green, REAL lettuce. Too cheap to only buy good lettuce once: and not even serve it. Just place it around the offered ingredients and maybe they'll look better. Appalling and completely absurd. I'm feeling malnourished.

It's Starting To Get Annoying

There once was a bike rack watching over many bike friends. They all lived in a small and for the most part, quiet town. But then!

One fateful day, Lola, the pink moped whizzed into town and started frequenting the rack. The bikes tried real hard not to get on her case, but things soon started to get out of hand. Ole Shwinny boy eventually started gossiping with Doctor Trek and formed a gang with Gary, meanwhile the giant around got unbelievably huffy--all on account of Lola's annoyances. Lola, on the heavy side, was taking up way too much unnecessary room. Two to Four bikes were put out of a resting place when Lo was around.
Finally, she got put in her place when Dusty 1964 called her out, "Lola you need to book the hell outta here! Just park your ass next to the rack so us fellas can take a breather! You ain't even need the rack to rest."
Lola didn't like this at all. Sooner than can imagine, Lola's worse off friends were involved. All the roads started to get attacked by mopeds...and even the stage 4 douchebags, the Davidson's, took charge. Unfortunately for every specimen in the town, the violence proceeded to sidewalks. Every liable sidewalker, was from then on in danger; at a moment's weave, they could easily be knocked down by a passing motor from behind. To say the least, the bike rack and all of his watchful friends across town now have regular, unfriendly parkers.
The bike population is currently seeking hugs from their tree friends, and are trying to read the signs of the situation.

Time's Up

There comes a time in a man's life when he's gotta hang up his coat and deal with the fact that college parties are no longer his turf. Look, Bob, I get it. Fitting in didn't work out so well for you a decade ago, so I imagine you've decided to give it another try. You pick out your glossiest hair gel and slap a knockoff Rolex on your wrist, all whilst preparing your freshest pick up lines. Stop hitting on the underage drinkers and go do something with your life. Try being a little proactive. Maybe get a job. Or a girlfriend. Or just a life in general would suffice. Those confused stares you're getting? For good reason. You are painfully out of place. It's uncomfortable for me to see you here when you're well into your late 20s (early 30s?) trying to fit in the with college crowd. We can all see through you, Way-Too-Old-For-This Douche. You don't want to overhear the infamous "What is he, 40?" line. Great way to become the least popular party guest, rest assured.

Fit together the pieces of the puzzle: you didn't belong here 10 years ago...

Figure It Out

Note to self: Don't leave shitty stereo blasting on repeat and then proceed to exit room. I wouldn't imagine I would ever need to reference this note, as it it common knowledge. For most, that is.

Unfortunately, Sandy Suitemate never wrote this rule down on paper. Now Sandy here is obviously an avid Mariah Carey fan, seeing as she favors leaving her songs on repeat. Correction: blaring on repeat. This would at least make sense. But here, that is not the case. Sandy puts in her favorite R&B compact disc, makes certain that the volume is at its maximum limit, and then meanders out the door. Alright, well that's all well and good for Sandy, except that it is now up to me to relieve the hallway of the forthcoming 3-hour "Obsessed" loop. I must shake off the dew of my mid-afternoon nap and, ears surely covered, slink in next door to hit the "off" button. Ahh, that was satisfying.

Does Sandy believe it to be magic that, when she leaves on music upon departing, it has been mysteriously silenced? My guess is as good as yours.

But really, Sandy, figure it out: these walls are thin!