|This guy is a Douche Bag.|
The Parking Douche
I’m driving around a very busy parking lot. No parking spaces. Fifteen minutes pass and I see hope. A person gets into their car right in front of me. I stop. Wait. Someone pulls in from the main street. I kindly let them pass me. They kindly decide to take my spot. They take my spot knowing that my turning signal is on and I’ve been waiting there. I angrily drive by yelling “DOUCHE!” He looks back in disbelief, raises his arms in a “What the fuck are you going to do about it” sort of way. He validated what he was then and there. Just when I was trying to give Prius owners the benefit of the doubt, this fucking guy ruins it for everyone.
This guy is a douche bag.
Close behind are the douche-nozzles of the road. They cut in front of you for the sake of being in front of you, they speed in residential neighborhoods, and they ride motorcycles. Motorcycle riders are their own brand of road douche that South Park already defined perfectly. (Refer to the word Fag).
If you or any friend of yours has a spoiler on the trunk of one's said car YOU are a douche-face. If you have NOS in your car and race Honda’s in bay area California you, most likely, are a douche bag. If you have spinning rims on your car you, most likely, are a douche bag. Unless of course all of this is adorned upon a 1970's GMC van. Then you are most likely a member of the A-Team and allowed to do what ever the fuck you please.
The Party Douche
This particular douche bag usually makes an everyday cameo on the infamous Jersey Shore. Fuck that, he’s worse. He shows up to parties/bars with two things in mind: hitting on YOUR girlfriend, and fighting with someone. He is an ex-fraternity college rugby player that has never read anything other than the Kama Sutra. He goes to L.A. fitness and refers to his arms as gun number one and gun number two. This guy only works out to compensate for his lack of brain power and endless growing guilt he feels for having his parent’s sit on thousands of dollars of student loan money that practically serves as his bar and condom tab. This guy is the reason douche was invented. Females caught on and thought, “SHIT! What was I thinking last night? I really need to clean my vagina after that one.”
Douche was invented.
The Face Book Douche
This one is easy to analyze. About forty percent of the people that use facebook are some kind of “douche-a-myte.” They infect facebook with their ideals and tilted shirtless pictures. We all have about ten of these friends and for some reason never decide to delete them. Facebook douches must have started some sort of union. We can’t delete them or else they’d strike and filter the Internet with douche-spam.
The political doucher level 8
This guy not only makes his status updates ONLY about politics, he loves to start unwarranted political debates on other people’s comments. There are two forms of political-doucher-level 8: VERY liberal bicycle riding, save the planet piece of shit Harold, and VERY conservative, bush backing, thirty-two year old Simon. Everybody has them both as friends and it always makes for an interesting read regardless of whom you agree with. I usually plead the fifth and masturbate to Internet porn.
Nobody cares about the fucking song you’re listening to at the moment. Quit putting Radiohead lyrics into the status updates. I get it, you listen to “hip” stuff, you’re smart, people like you. Fuck off. Douche.
Please never start a facebook update in letter format:
Dear broccoli salad,
You are disgusting! FML LOL
Stupid facebook post xoxoxoxo ^^
Please stop taking titled photos of yourself in the mirror. How has this NOT died out already? Everybody on facebook knows you. We know that you’re fat and disgusting so quit trying to hide it.
Please stop correcting people’s grammar. It’s facebook not a fucking thesis paper.
Please stop telling us every fucking place you’re checking in at. I will rob you. I will rob you, eat your groceries, shit on your floor and not even feel bad about it. How many facebook friends do you ACTUALLY have? Ten? Fifteen? Get over yourself.
The At Work Douche
Every single work place I have EVER been a part of has an "at work douche." Someone that will always be rooting against you. They were the teacher’s pet all throughout school but once they graduated they matured into a whole new monster. You never understand what they’re thinking or how they’re going to fuck you in the ass this time. Never tell them ANYTHING. They will tell the boss. They will tell the boss while smiling at you through the office window and making a bar date with you on facebook at the same fucking time. (They’re notorious multi-taskers.) The best part about “the at work douche”, is that they don’t even want your job. You’re usually in the same position. They just want to watch you squirm, fail, slip and fall down the stairs. It's also a proven fact that thirty-five percent of all "at work" douche-nozzles are named Sphen. Fuck you Sphen.
Unfortunately these at work douches ALWAYS end up worming their way into promotion, creating a multi-dimensioned boss that shits on everyone they can all the time. If you value your job and existence avoid “the at work douche”. You will never win.
“The art work douche” is such a bipolar megalomaniac nuanced mess that psychologists don’t even feel comfortable using disorders that are already discovered. This is a new one Sigmund Freud wouldn’t even understand how to diagnose. Carl Jung would have to create an entire book series about the MALE version of the "At work Douche". He would have to create another four books just to touch on the opposite sex. (I took about about one course in Psychology while attending college.)
The At Work Douche-face-a-kabobuhnozzle is an unstoppable menace to society. Hide in your cubicle and pray.
Sell your car. Crash your motor scooter. Take a day off from the gym. Sit at home with a bottle of Jack Daniels and really reevaluate your life choices. Most likely some of what I said touched a little too close to home. Look at yourself in the mirror. Keep looking. Look a little bit longer. OK now what do you see? If you were able to do this without saying "God damn! I look good" or taking a picture. You may be safe. If not, you are definitely a douche-tard level 9 and need to consider one of many forms of suicide. I prefer the drowning in toilet water technique.
My thesis? My thesis is quit making my fucking day miserable with your misguided idea of what's "cool" and go cry in a corner somewhere you douche-a-mite parking spot stealing asshole. Yes that shit really happened, and you my friend are a douche.
|This guy manages to be an idiot and a Douche.|