Sunday, January 10, 2010

The first post of 2010: The douche report.

Tonight was a special night. At the bottom most tier it was a Saturday night and the fact that I ventured out was amazing in itself. Normally I wouldn't do such a thing because I'm not generally a "weekend crowd" type of guy, but tonight was requested by someone that I respect very highly. I had a blast, but that's not to say that the night didn't have its share of pitfalls...

There were so many things that I encountered this evening that continuously solidifies my distaste for weekend fun involving packed bars and amateur drinkers.

This list won't be in order of occurrence:

The Over-drunk recently turned twenty one kid:

Ooh... a special breed if I've ever seen one. The just recently turned twenty one kid will enter the bar and consume as much alcohol as his wittle tummy can take. This practice usually involves a late night comatose state where the contacting of parents is usually considered or at the very least a rad story they can tell their friends about how they got "so fucked up" that they woke up on a doorstep and "people were, like... going to work and shit."

Sometimes this recently legalized douche bag will somehow convince himself that through alcohol he has become the most powerful titan the world has ever known and proceed to puff his almost always scrawny chest whenever his underdeveloped, booze soaked brain assumes it it being threatened in any way. Be advised... this particular scum bag will appear bigger that he actually is due to the oversized attire he wears. It should be noted that this oversized clothing will almost certainly bear the logo of a sports team. It should also be noted that this particular team may or may not be in the town where you encounter this particular dick head.

The bitter Mexican fat girl who inadvertently dresses like a hipster, but claims to hate hipsters:

In my circles I don't run into this one often, but once encountered, this subject will immediately make you want to slit her throat. She will sit there on a bar stool, usually conversing with another bitter girl about some guy that did something so "gangsta" that it basically makes the accomplishments of Ghandi seem pale and unimportant by comparison. The story will almost always end with "... he's locked up now."

Careful... this subject will take a chance at being "gangsta" herself by making fun of you even though it's obvious she's just depressed that she looks the way she does. Also, it will be obvious that she has taken in too much alcohol because of her propensity to pass out at the end of any night. Thus, making her a bad choice of drinking partner. Really though... who would want a bad drinking partner?

Tonight, as I was at the bar, there was someone of the aforementioned variety sitting across from me. She decided to inform me that I was a "hipster" with a disgusted sneer on her face. Naturally, my first reaction was to agree, but knowing the negative connotations of the word, I decided to let her continue after I asked what she meant by her remark and why she felt it appropriate to "call me out?"

Her response? Typical, although correct. (Nobody could accuse her of not being observant) She told me that I wore tight jeans, had tattoos, rode a bicycle, and listened to stupid bands. Well, she wasn't wrong because I do all of the above. Why that is supposedly hip I'm not sure. Anyway, she sat there so smugly she could've killed a houseplant just by sitting next to it. I did what any man would do when being somewhat challenged by a behemoth: I rattled something off about her being a Cosmo Girl and this months ten sexy lovemaking tips. What the heck? You may ask... just trust me. It was like pouring salt on a slug. The beauty here was that she was so un-girlish in her ways, that to imply anything about her that did not involve black eyeliner, joker tattoos or low rider vehicles was a sure insult. The last thing she said was " I ain't white and what makes you think I'd read Cosmo? Shit."

Screw that trick ass ho. I like reading Cosmo.

The bathroom super talker:

This guy is in every bathroom in every part of the world. I'm not sure about any of you, but when I'm facing a urinal I prefer those 30 seconds or so to be quiet and introspective. Also, I'm a big fan of that little robot in my pants and I enjoy the quiet time with it. Anyway, this guy will come into the bathroom quietly, but as soon as he pulls out to spray his foul piss, he'll say something either amazingly stupid or incredibly creepy. Plus, in all his excitement he forgets to wash his hands afterward, therefore putting his little pee pee hand all over the goddamned bar, the jukebox, the darts, and most likely your back as he tries to squeeze by you later that night because the place is so crowded. Here are examples:

  • "Hey man, this place is cool right?"
  • "Yo, there's a lot of bitches here, bro!"
  • "Hey, do I know you?"
  • "Yeah, I'm gonna bang all these chicks tonight."
  • "The DJ is pretty good, huh?"

Alright Mr. Bathroom super talker... it's time to stop. You're causing me to want to turn toward you and pee on your sneakers and if you try to fight back I will pee on you some more. Punk.

And for absolutely no reason at all...

Hey John Mayer, do you even like rock n' roll? I ask because millions of girls like you and although I can safely state that you are a talented musician, I just haven't seen anything that rocks like a dirty Cantonese hooker with a trash can tattoo and the ass to match. You had a funny TV show though and I think you're a pretty funny guy. So keep on, man. I don't even have a band right now.

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