Tag Archives: douche

#65 The Meathead With The Small Dog

Sometimes my Master and I play <em>Hide In The Colon!</em>

Sometimes he let's me play Hide In The Hot Dog!

We’ve all seen the swoll meathead out in public, usually devouring a high protein lunch, peppering his egg white omelet with several grunts and elbows propped awkwardly on the table. If his veiny-arm lumps weren’t enough to scare your kids, he’s now raised the ante — he’s purchased a rat and put a dog collar on it. Ahhh yeah…The Meathead with the Small Dog. His name says it all: a muscular goon with a quaint canine pet, usually in the form of a chihuahua, dachshund, or Yorkshire terrier. Either way, it’s a POS dog associated with stupid spoiled whores and Coach bags.

This walking hard-on’s entire life revolves around 3 daily chores: whey protein shakes, a 3-hour gym visit (plus 1 hour for looking at himself in the mirror), and walking his miniature dog. Where he finds the time to blow other men is a mystery to me.

BigGuySmallDogWhen purchasing a pet dog, most grown men follow the simple “Rule of Dog Kindness”: if you can kill your dog by accidentally stepping on it, then you don’t buy that dog. In other words, if you come home drunk at 3am and your stumbling to hit the light switch, maybe you mistakenly step on your dog’s paw — if your dog would die from such injuries, save the poor animals life. Don’t buy it. Don’t be a dick. Look at the size of your foot, if it’s bigger than your dogs head, this is a bad equation. Plus, that dog looks gay.

But alas, this is not a relevant factor with the Chiwawa-Meathead. He works out at the gym, defining his abs and glutes, right before strolling down the street with his puny pure bred (Editor’s Note: his dog’s probably named Ab or Glute). Both his workout regiment and his attention to his house pet are a tad bit on the aggressive side, and it should be noted there’s nothing more freakish than watching a 5’3” steroid in spandex shorts French kiss his Yorky at a sidewalk café.

Perhaps most intriguing, however, is that with all that buldging muscle and manly-manness asserted by the Meathead, he is virtually unaware of the latent homosexuality associated with his two favorite activities: lifting weights and feeding his Mr. Kittles a piece of his crepe. The act of being around a bunch of sweaty dudes, all groaning and moaning within the confines of heavy steel and cables, correlates well with sitting on a suede ottoman and letting Mr. Kittles lick your lips; both are the standard opening scenes to a mid-90s gay porno flick. And for all you germaphobes out there, sure Mr. Kittles just licked his hairy anus before licking Meathead, but in all fairness, Meathead has definitely tasted a hairy anus in the past. This is not a strange new world to Meathead. This is Friday nights at The Abbey.

Meathead and Small Dog can be found anywhere there are outdoor activities, weights, and lots and lots of hand jobs (mainly Los Angeles, Miami, and San Francisco). It’s not hard to spot this guy, even if he happens to be driving. Just look for the VW Beetle with the “I love my pets…and my pecks” bumper sticker.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Know As: Turner and Mook, Black Rob’s Small Dog, Butt-Pirate and the Beast, Bitch and Bitches, Hot Dog and Donut Puncher, Paris Hilton, The Salad Tossers, BALCO & Alpo, Both Receivers of Doggy-Style Sex
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Filed under animals, annoying people, beach, body, guidos, gym, idiot accessories

#63 The Shitter Graffiti Artist

Picasso would be proud

Picasso would be proud

Most people think of public restrooms as a “last resort shit depository” — the filthy, regrettable step between pooping one’s pants and playing the “How Long Can I Hold It” Game. It’s a place where homeless people go to have sex and where the walls inexplicably are covered in a doody sprinkles. Simply put, it’s the worst.

But to the Shitter Graffitti Artist, this is art school. That toilet seat is a beautiful blank canvas — a brownish-yellow stained platform through which they can truly express themselves. That’s not just a plastic ass-holder, it’s a circular shrine to artistic integrity.

Sure, it’s regularly urinated on. But that doesn’t matter. Urine and feces don’t phase the SGA — the feed off of it. In fact, that toilet is surrounded on four sides by walls which could have just as easily been graffitied. But no! They chose the toilet seat itself — the throne, the porcelain palace. This is where the SGA shines.

After all, what speaks louder than carving your name into where people put their colon? If you answered “nothing”, then you’re starting to understand. It’s about respect, recognition. That carving technique they learned in Shawshank State Penitentiary can finally reach the wide audience they dreamed about while sharpening shivs on Cell Block E. It’s finally happening for them.

idiotsNow, I should pause to clarify. The Shitter Graffitti Artist is not to be confused with the equally mindless Toilet Seat Decorator (seen on the right). The main difference between these two fecalfeliacs is that the Toilet Seat Decorator spends hours upon hours gluing seashells or other “quaint” objects to toilet seats, while the Shitter Graffiti Artist spends a few panicked seconds carving “RALFIE” onto a piss-stained restroom. Other than that, the two are quite similar — both share what scientists have identified as the I.D.I.O.T. Gene (or in medical terminology, the “I Decorate Insanity On Toilets” Gene).

The SAG is largely of the male persuasion, as women have an intense fear of toilet seats (hence, the development of “the squat”). It is also more prevalent among males who are not incredibly sexually active, as if they were, they’d spend their time talking to women instead of touching public toilets. The SAG can be found in most truck stops and bars around the country, generally concentrated in areas where the aforementioned “vagina” is lacking.
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Also Known As: The Mona Loser, The Restroom Renaissance Man, Doodyfingers, What Germs?, The Toilet Seat Smithsonian, Port-O-Painter, You Should Really Get A Hobby, Picasso’s Plumber

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Filed under annoying people, awful, douche, stink, wtf?

#58 The Middle-Finger Photo F***

Facebook!

Facebook!


The Middle-Finger Photo Fuck (guy or girl) is a recent phenomenon in the age of the worldwide web. In essence, MFPF revolves around a simple gesture from a simple person. Their purpose? To show off their eminence, mainly as a mindless human void, through a photograph pose consisting of a middle finger directed toward the lens. They are an entity of American culture hell bent on displaying their 10th grade angst and rebellious attitude. But it’s understandable; it’s tough out there when you’re only given 43-minutes for lunch.

“Yo, Joey!  Fuck you, Joey!”

“Yo, Joey! Fuck you, Joey!”

Even if it’s just a friendly pic, the MFPF feels the need to claim their territory, and they do so via “menacing” finger-threat. The perfect part of this non-verbal assualt is it’s relative easiness to impose on strangers, no matter how fast or slow their bandwidth is. All it requires is a simple camera, a middle finger from either hand, and if they’re experienced, an arching of the neck backward so as to puff out the chest. That’s it. Follow those steps, and you’ve got what physiologists call the body language of a “major league prick”. The mentality behind this pose lies in a massive insecurity on par with the likes of carrying a concealed weapon while visiting an amusement park or having tribal band tattoos.

You might at first feel inclined to give Middle Finger Guy the benefit of the doubt. Hey, maybe he’s having a bad day or something, right? Sure, maybe. But know this: you give them a finger, and they’ll take 10. And all your hair gel.

MFPFs come in all ages, races, genders, and religions, but nonetheless they should be treated like second-class citizens. They are always behind in the times, hence why they emulate the actions of a white rapper with bleached blonde hair from 6 years ago. Despite their tardiness with trends, middle-finger folk are found in both ass-backwards states and pretentious, smarmy states, not because they live there but because their profiles float all over cyberspace.

MFPFs love to display their gruff attitude to all those living in virtual reality. This way, they get to tell everyone, from your nosey next-door neighbor to the clueless Indonesian field peasant with 25 minutes of community internet time, “Hey, you can’t fuck with me. I don’t even know you, but now you know ME, motherf***er.”

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Known As: Slim Shitty, The Middle Finger Child Syndrome, Fuck You Jobu, Handyman, Tough and Gruff at 15, Bird Flipper Whipper Snapper, Study Hall Brawler

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Filed under annoying people, college, douche, friends, internet, technology

#55 The Shell Necklace Sally

Who knew sea shells could be so darn cool!!!

Who knew sea shells could be so darn cool!!!

The Shell Necklace is the male equivalent to the “pearl necklace”. And I don’t mean the shiny kind that comes from an oyster. I mean the kind that comes from a man’s weiner. And if you’re a male wearing a puka shell necklace, then you might as well go cover yourself in splooge, because that’s the message you’re giving off.

First originating in Polynesian islands as a traditional cultural garb, the shell necklace has since been adopted by yuppie white males as a tight-fitting fashion accessory. Said Polynesian tribesman are currently rolling over in their graves.

The Shell Necklace Sally is a douchebag in the most literal sense. They embody all typical douchebag traits, but then magnify this by, as Emril says, “kicking it up a notch“. Frosted tips, tight-fitting t-shirts flared with writing and graphics, thumb rings, ankle braclets, a fake surfer intonation — you name it. If it’s douchey and faggy, the Shell Necklace Sally will soak it up like a coral sponge.

Shell Necklace SallypantsThe next obvious question is “why?“. To answer this fully takes research and lab tests well beyond the reach of Idiot Pants Party. But I will offer this simple answer: the soft white tones of the shell and the firm fit around his slender neck reminds the Shell Necklace Sally of his very own deep, rich, whiteness. It is a metaphor for being a Caucasian — of taking someone’s heritage and making it worse, making it crackified.

You can find the Shell Necklace Sally at any and every tourist gift shop near major beach areas, as well as at yuppie megastores like Abercrombie and Fitch or American Eagle. Teens and youths are more susceptible to shell necklaces, as their life experiences have not yet told them how fucking lame these necklaces are.

There may be a disproportionate ratio of Shell Necklace Sallys (and/or Puka Shell Nancys) near Spring Break destinations, as this tight white choker is a clear message that there are some fratty d-bags ready to do a case race. They will be shirtless, rowdy, and most likely in packs of 5 (as this is the maximum capacity you can jam into a Jeep Wrangler). If you see a SNS drinking on the beach, you should enhance their Spring Break experience by reporting them to your nearest Police authority. They will be undoubtably underage and will enjoy the fresh pearl necklace that Prisoner Pedro gives them in their holding cell.
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Also Known As: Puka Paul, The Luau Loser, The Shell Necklace Nancy, Gay For Pay, I Like White, The Caucasian Choker

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Filed under annoying people, beach, friends, idiot accessories, trashy

#54 The Robot-Voice Guy

 

The Ghost of Robot Singers Past & Present

Michael Jackson & Akon: The Ghost of Robot Singers Past & Present

Synthesized pop music of the ‘80s lead the Robot-Voice Guy to bust onto the music scene with a metaphorical raging hard-on, reaching his pinnacle with Michael Jackson’s “PYT (Pretty Young Thing)” in ’83. But since his Thriller apex, Robot-Voice Guy has slowly subjected himself to lower and lower levels of pop music, from the theme of the Transformers cartoon to, most recently, anything Kanye West, T-Pain, or Akon-oriented.

Nonetheless Robot-Voice Guy has become quite the popular singer despite his douchebag-by-association moniker. His secret: disguising horrid R&B vocals through robotic enhancements made in the studio. Just think of him as HAL from “2001” if HAL were programmed by Uncle Luke of 2 Live Crew.

Robot-Voice Guy’s popularity has come with several hit singles in recent years, most of which are thoughtless masculine mantras. Such notable lines include, “Work it, make it, do it, makes us harder better faster stronger,” as well as “Shorty got hips and shorty got ass,” and of course, “I want to fuck you—fuck you.” I know, it’s poetic.

Yet, despite the success of Robot-Voice Guy, he remains largely a mystery. This is moslty due to the fact that the Robot-Voice Guy is not a known person. Because of this lack of physical appearance, Robot-Voice Guy has caused many music traditionalists to speak out, believing the absence of human life makes Robot-Voice Guy a complete bullshit artist rather than a musical artist.

The only known photo of Robot-Voice Guy

The only known photo of Robot-Voice Guy

RVG is a master of catchy choruses, a direct catalyst for the crowded dance floors and excessively loud pubs all across America; although in his defense, his choruses have resulted in a plethora of wet vaginas and the occasional public finger bang. Unfortunately, the cumbersome pussy provided is of no use to him for the obvious reason that he’s not a real person but rather a vocal booth entity created by hi-tech Japanese gadgets.

While listening to Hot 97 or an equivelent shitty rap station, you may find it difficult to discern one Robot-Voice Guy’s song from another. This is normal, as they all use the same Pro Tools effect called “Taint”, which turns their R&B mumblings into a Wall-E-esque garbage heap.

Robot-Voice Guy can be found in all places where velvet ropes, $9 Bud Lights, and attention seekers all conjure together, AKA anywhere in Los Angeles or Manhattan. These places follow a strict rule in that their name can only be one syllable, not unlike the Britpop bands of the mid-90s. Robot-Voice Guy can be found ruining hip-hop music at Club Tryst, Krills, or Crème, or as I’ve recently found out, the Goldfried bar mitzvah.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Known As: Kanye’s chorus, Akon’s album, T-Pain’s career, Britney Spears’ Comeback, Stephen Hawking

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Filed under awful, douche, entertainment

#51 The Guy-Liner

One small step for Makeup.  One giant leap backwards for Mankind.

One small step for Makeup. One giant leap backwards for Mankind.

The guy in eyeliner has become a sudden hit among heterosexual men mainly because of the social acceptance of other feminine styles, specifically faux-hawks and painted fingernails (thank Carson Daly for that one, folks). Guy-Liner, as he’s commonly labeled, is usually a very typical modern man, equipped with a good education, a full-time job, and some social skills. Unfortunately such qualities are quickly discarded once eyeliner’s applied and the once normal person is a verified piece of shit.

The basic appearance of Guy-Liner is the heavy eye shadow usually correlated solely to prostitutes and battered wives. The eyeliner is then combined with a strange choice of wardrobe, with a heavy focus on the choice of fingerless gloves and a scarf to match (both worn only in summer). Guy-Liner also finds solace in other rebellious, edgy activities, including vampire role-playing and seeing Twilight in theatres despite being old enough to drive and not having any younger siblings.

guyliner-43751The reasons for this choice of make-up have not been fully explained, but one can associate Guy-Liner’s eccentric eye shadow with the popularity of Pete Wentz, Hot Topic, and the 21st century ideal that “it’s OK to be a pussy” (again, see Pete Wentz). Guy-Liner’s real purpose in using this make-up is to tell his female constituents he’s sensitive and artistic while also letting his male counterparts know it’s ok to knock his jaw loose. Guy-Liner differs from the Goth craze of the early 80s and the industrial scene in today’s music, favoring the sounds of Darude’s “Sandstorm” over The Cure.

Guy-Liner can be found in any major city where the social circuits revolve around the underbelly of clubbing, mainly Miami and New York. Guy-Liner loves to stay in the dark, part of his mysterious appearance, but also because he understands how unattractive and pathetic he looks with such make-up on. Please note — users, abusers, and narcs — there’s a high chance of Guy-Liner’s pockets being stuffed with Special K, Ecstasy, and tissues (the latter being a necessity to stop his eye shadow from running every time he cries due to rejection and/or a deserved beat down), so please rush the fool when you see him.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Known As: Eye-Van The Terrible, The Shadow, Ghoulie Groupie, Black Eye Wack Guy, My Chemical Blow-mance, Jared Leto, The Man Makeup

9 Comments

Filed under annoying people, clothes, douche, emo, face, idiot accessories, los angeles, new york city

#37 The Political Buzzkill

Having a good time?  Let's talk Politics!

Having a good time? Let's talk Politics!

While everyone at the party is getting drunk and having a good time, the Political Buzzkill has only one objective in mind: find that buzz and kill it.

There are two unspoken rules in the world of drinking: Don’t pass out with your shoes on, and Don’t talk about politics. The rules are simple. They’re here to keep order. The shoe rule establishes “writing on” criteria and the politics rule is there to keep out belligerent arguing in a jovial atmosphere.

But that’s what the Political Buzzkill feeds off of. Arguing their views at the expense of others. “Who are you voting for?”, “Gosh. Hilary was SO much more qualified.” “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take four more years!”

They are the quintessential annoying drunk. They don’t understand that drinking is about fun and escapism, or that people don’t like them. Like an Abortion Doctor speaking at a Pro-Life convention, they seek out arguements and insist on fighting them. They’re divisive. They don’t bring up politics to discuss it, they bring it up to tell you what’s “right”.

A minute ago, we were all having a good time together. But with the help of the PB, the room is now miraculously divided into Red, Blue, and Mexicans. It’s like Moses parting the Red Wine Sea, only no one’s having any fun.

“Did you hear what Palin said? Oh my god, she is so unqualified!” No, I didn’t. I was macking it to this hot chick until you rolled over here. And now my game is dead because she thinks I’m friends with your ultra-liberal ass.

You can find the Political Buzzkill at any party, bar, or social gathering. Much like their cousin the Carlos Mencia, they are part of the Succubus Family, and feed off of harshing people’s mellow. They may appear to be normal and even-keeled — they may even party like it’s Spring Break. But when they open their mouth, make sure you have an extra sock to stuff into it.

As we get closer and closer to the November election, the prevalence of the PB will increase to epic-ly shitty proportions. You may want to just lock yourself in your home with a bottle of Jack. If you are so bold to venture out, carry an extra pair of cotton socks. Just in case they bring their Fiancee.
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Also Known As: Assholes, Drunky McRepublican, The Political Talker, Palin’s Proverbs, Buzz Killington, Jehova’s Witnesses Meets Whiskey, The Political Party Party, Annoying Drunks

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Filed under booze, douche, friends, los angeles, new york city, parents, politics, rich people, work