I had what I thought was going to be a great blog entry for something I want to make a running theme: my attempt to become even more of a douchebag by doing things that I know douchebags like to do. Here was the setup.
From time to time on this blog I’m going to write about stuff that I think douchebags like to do, in order to broaden my douchebag range and unlock my inner douche potential. Where does the douchebag like to travel? What kind of restaurants do douchebags frequent? What is it like to be on a date with a douchebag? These are things that the world need to know. And I’m just the douchebag to tell them.
The first entry was going to be about my foray into the douchetastic world of wine tasting. I had it all planned out in my head. I was going to go to my local wine store, also known as the corner gas station, find the cheapest bottles of wine that I could, and write reviews of them, all the while ridiculing the techniques and behavior of douchebag wine enthusiasts. I bought some cheese and crackers, cleaned the apartment. I even went so far as to download some music that I thought would better set the mood. This was going to be the highlight of my week. Aside from getting told off by the director of "Grudge Fuck 6."
Turns out though that this was incredibly unfunny. And pathetic. What I anticipated would be a quirky little drinking story came off more like a sad attempt to seduce myself -- I had candles going and everything -- which was a complete waste of time because, like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman", I'm a sure thing. Nothing remotely amusing came out of it, aside from calling Jack Johnson a "regular douchebag's douchebag," which should be the title of his next album. Even the wine wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, just generally bad. And I made the mistake of buying a "wine-like product" that I thought was just cheap wine, which I guess I can save for the next time I'm hanging out with tramps down at the hobo camp.
So my awesome idea for entertainment turned out to be me, by myself, chugging merlot straight from the bottle and watching "Poseidon." The end result was a blistering headache and a feeling of absolute self-loathing. I hate myself right now. The lesson? You can't force yourself to become a douchebag.
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