A Few More Things That Make You a Douche-tastic Douche

    I. You Hang a Pair of Balls Off the Back of Your Car

I stayed at a hotel during the bar exam so I didn’t have to commute to and from the testing center. One day, as I was returning to my room after another grueling day of staring blankly at a bunch of questions I didn’t know the answers to, I noticed a truck parked in the hotel parking lot. I usually don’t pay any attention to cars, but this one refused to go unnoticed.

First of all, it was covered in decal stickers: there was a “TAPOUT” sticker in one corner of the rear cab window, and in the other corner there was one of those decals that make it look like a baseball is smashed in the window. There were fake bullet holes on the driver’s-side door, and a “Los Angeles Clippers” decal, two “KROQ” stickers, and a bunch of other stuff stuck on the back of the truck.

And, as if it weren’t enough of a hot mess, hanging down from the back of the truck was a pair of “Truck Nutz”—yes, fake balls made for cars.

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Seeing those “Truck Nutz” led to a sudden revelation: Oh! Now I get it! The truck owner is totally manly! After all, only the manliest of men would cover every inch of his ride with meaty decals—but this man was clearly manlier than that because he actually paid money to purchase the pair of rubber testicles he was now proudly displaying off the back of his truck. This guy wasn’t just plain ol’ manly—he was super manly!

…Or so the truck owner probably wanted us all to believe. Unfortunately, however, the only message I got from looking at his fug-on-wheels was that the owner was a Douche-tastic Douche who didn’t want anyone to find out that his penis and balls were swallowed up by his cavernous vagina.

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I know…my taco-shell-drawing skills need work.

Sorry, but when you turn your car into your second penis, it makes the rest of us wonder what happened to your first one. I think most people would give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you still had a dong—albeit a shamefully small one. The rest of us, however, would take your overly-manly car and its sad pair of “Truck Nutz” as a sign that your penis committed suicide by using one of your pubes as a noose to prevent the blood from circulating to it, thus allowing it to shrivel up and die before your Douche-tastic antics could shame it any further.

The moral of the story: putting testicles on your car not only makes us question the existence of your penis—it also makes you look like a Douche-tastic Douche!

    II. You Send Mass Messages About Your Personal Xanga Drama

Mass messaging was on my first post about Douche-tastic Douchiness, and it’s unfortunately making an appearance on this list even though I know I’m committing a cardinal sin by calling any of my beloved fellow Xangans out for being douchie. Just keep in mind that I typed this part up with a heavy heart, and that it’s not meant to be taken personally.

This time, the mass messaging I’m talking about is specifically limited to those involving Xangan versus Xangan drama. Xangan A gets into a blog war with Xangan B, and the two of them battle it out through their posts—a few of which end up on the “Explore” page (nice!). Then B sends a mass message to everyone on his “Friends” list, telling them about the drama he is embroiled in, and asking them to somehow help him in the fight against A.

I’m not saying that having Xanga drama makes a person douchie. The purpose of blogging is, after all, to share your ideas with others. And inevitably, not everyone is going to agree with you—some may even end up hating you for whatever it was that you said—but that’s how the dissemination of ideas works.

Such drama only becomes douchie when you try to bring in an uninvolved Xangan—i.e., a Xangan whom you’ve never otherwise messaged or conversed with, and is outside of your close group of Xanga friends. Yes, even in a world that’s made up of text and avatars, it’s still possible to form cliques and groups.

When Xangan B starts mass messaging Xangans outside his clique or group, he starts looking like a Douche-tastic Douche who wants to win the blogging battle without actually fighting it himself. And it’s even worse if B’s got a history of getting into blog battles with various other Xangans. After awhile, people start wondering if B’s just purposely getting into drama so he can get attention. Hey, I’m all for getting on the “Explore” list, but I think there are less douchie (and less inbox clutter-some) ways to do it.

Everyone is susceptible to Xanga drama, but using a mass message to get outside people involved in your own blogging battles makes you a Douche-tastic Douche.

   III. You are Criss Angel

I hate you.

    IV. Your “+Race/Ethnicity” Screen Name is Kind of…Off

This isn’t really Douche-tastically Douchie, but it could be depending on the situation.

The “+Race/Ethnicity” screen name is one that has the user’s race or ethnicity in it. There are only so many ways you can define yourself online, and one way is to include your race or ethnicity in your screen name. Also, adding your race or ethnicity sometimes helps when the screen name you originally wanted is already taken, or is one that is so common that you’d have to put a long string of numbers at the end just so you could use it.

Most words can be combined with a race or ethnicity without any problems, but some combinations can result in screen names that look kind of…off.

Case in point: I once read a board posting written by someone with the screen name “AznKiller.” Yes, as in “Asian killer.”

The topic of the board was about the Japanese anime “Naruto,” so I thought, “Okay, this guy’s screen name means ‘killer who is Asian.’ But when I read his post, he was totally hating on “Naruto” and its fans—so then I thought, “OMG…this guy kills Asians…or, at least those of us who love ‘Naruto’!

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I actually think “AznKiller” simply didn’t consider the possibility that his screen name could be interpreted to mean “killer of Asians.” He was, after all, posting on a board dedicated to anime—something I don’t think a guy who kills Asians would waste time doing. But if he had posted on some pro-SARS board or whatever, well, then he’d obviously be a racist douche with a Douche-tastically Douchie screen name.

I guess “soon” means “2 days later”–at least it does in this case.

As I said in my previous post, I managed to find time in between studying to do other things, like going to the little gym in my apartment complex. My workouts are pretty mundane–I’m usually on the stationary bike and playing a game on my PSP or Nintendo DS for about 30 minutes. It probably isn’t the most effective exercise routine, and really, I’m only doing it to trick myself into believing I’m working out when in reality I’m just there to play video games.

Anyway, on one such break, I had gone to the gym with my DS and a mission: I was going to score a gold medal on the “Vampire Bat” level of “Picross 3D.” I don’t know if you’ve ever played the game, but (warning: nerd talk ahead) you basically start out with a 3-dimensional cluster of boxes, and you have to knock certain ones away to create some kind of object. If you can do this without accidentally knocking out a box you shouldn’t have, and within a certain time limit, a little gold medal or something appears in the corner of the puzzle.

Up until this point, I had no trouble getting gold medals on any of the previous levels. Some puzzles took more than one attempt, but none required more than three. The freaking “Vampire Bat” level, however, was impossible for me to finish perfectly within the 5-minute time limit allotted for getting a gold medal. Try as I might, my results were always the same: sad-ass silver medals. And the more failed attempts I accumulated, the more obsessed I became with conquering a puzzle that had somehow become the bane of my existence.

But that day was going to be the day I put an end to my “Vampire Bat” misery. I was going to get a perfect score within 5 minutes–I could feel it.

There wasn’t anyone in the gym except for me and a woman who was doing yoga stretches. I sat at a stationary bike, prepared for war and ready to reclaim my honor.

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I was only one minute into the level, and had already managed to get an outline of the bat’s shape. My confidence level was up, and I was feeling good…

But suddenly, this weird, creepiness showed up and ate up all my positive feelings. Was I mistaken, or was my Douchie Sense tingling?

I looked up and saw this standing right in front of me:

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The woman doing yoga stretches was actually a man…a man with his hair in a bun, a creepy smile on his face, and an unmistakable Aura of Douchiness emanating from his pasty, creepy body. I have to be honest though: I don’t know if his pants were actually grey. I didn’t want to look because I was afraid of what I was going to see. Seriously, what kind of guy stands in front of a stranger with his hands on his hips? A guy who lets his penis hang out in public, that’s what.

I was really caught off-guard, and wasn’t quite sure what the proper response was supposed to be. Was he just admiring himself in the mirrors behind me? Was he a new resident who needed directions on how to get back to the complex? Was he just a creepy douche bag who liked to sneak up on random people, possibly while airing out his dong?

Only one way to find out:

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And then he said:

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What the f*ck? The guy started talking to me in Japanese! This was definitely not what I had expected from someone who clearly wasn’t Japanese.

Now, while I don’t speak the language, I took 2 years of Japanese class in high school, and had watched enough anime to understand a little of what the guy was asking–i.e., “Blah blah blah speak Japanese blah blah blah?” (Hey! High school was many years ago, okay? And I haven’t watched much anime lately!)

I wanted him and his creepy douchiness to just go away, so I said:

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You’d think that would have been enough to end the conversation, but guess what? The guy didn’t go away; he instead started talking to me in English.

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Oh, great! Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way–you’ll leave me alone, right? Of course not…

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This guy ended up going through the entire map of Asia or something: “Mongolian? Ulan-ude? Kyrgystanian?”

I finally just told him the answer because he had started to become extremely annoying, and I wanted him to get the hell away so I could go back to playing “Picross 3D.” But he must have interpreted the situation differently because rather than leave, he went back to speaking Japanese.

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Finally, after 5 minutes of this nonsense, he decided it was time to go back to his yoga stretches:

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Bored?! You piece of sh*t! I had a DS in my hand, my earphones on, and I was semi-exercising on a stationary bike! I wasn’t bored! I was busy!

As if it weren’t bad enough that this creepy douche bag wasted my time, I also failed to get the gold medal again because I hadn’t put the game on pause. I never did achieve my goal–ended up sending the game back to Gamefly because it was so tainted by the guy’s Aura of Douchiness that I no longer found it entertaining.

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