Douche Bag
Douche (doosh) noun - 1.(a) A stream of water, often containing medicinal or cleansing agents, that is applied to a body part or cavity for hygienic or therapeutic purposes. (b) a stream of air applied in a similar way
2. The application of a douche.
3. An instrument (read: tool) for applying a douche.
Some moments are just too good to pass up. You know what I mean. Those moments of Zen when the stars align and events unfold just perfectly. Last night on the subway, I had one of those moments and just had to capture it with my camera phone.
Last night around 7:30 PM on an uptown bound C train, I saw a the perfect, real-life personification of a douche bag. I’m serious. If a douche bag had two arms, two legs and could walk around the city, this is what he would look like. The douche in question was already on the train when I got on downtown...which would lead me to conclude that the douche lives in Brooklyn (shocker). He was rocking a pink polo shirt (the very first indication that someone might be a douche bag), although he didn’t have a popped collar, which is the tell tale sign of a douche bag. He was also wearing these circa 1983, I-hang- out-at-Studio-54-and-do-enough-cocaine-to-kill-a-small-rhino glasses and he had his name, well I’m assuming it was his name, “Joel” tattooed twice on his arm; once on his left forearm and once on his right bicep...probably in case he forgets how to spell it when applying for various fast food positions. Although it wasn’t clear what kind of music he was listening to on his ghetto, look-alike pink iPod, he wasn’t shy about over enthusiastically mouthing the words to anyone that would look in his direction. Classic. I had to get a picture of this guy.
The train was fairly packed and so I decided to move over to a middle poll at the West 4th stop in order to get a better angle. Perfect. I was standing directly in front of him. The problem was that I have never actually tried to take a picture of someone that wasn’t aware of what I was doing. I pulled my phone out and pretended like I was reading my text messages. I wondered what would the douche bag would do if he knew I was taking a picture of him. I started to get a little nervous. Fuck it. This douche bag is going in my phone. My readers need to see this. Click. Damn the picture is blurry. Let’s try again. Click. Perfect! The douche is immortalized. Save to phone. Done and done.
And without further ado, please let me introduce you to the C train douche bag...
Cheers,
NYCDG
2. The application of a douche.
3. An instrument (read: tool) for applying a douche.
Some moments are just too good to pass up. You know what I mean. Those moments of Zen when the stars align and events unfold just perfectly. Last night on the subway, I had one of those moments and just had to capture it with my camera phone.
Last night around 7:30 PM on an uptown bound C train, I saw a the perfect, real-life personification of a douche bag. I’m serious. If a douche bag had two arms, two legs and could walk around the city, this is what he would look like. The douche in question was already on the train when I got on downtown...which would lead me to conclude that the douche lives in Brooklyn (shocker). He was rocking a pink polo shirt (the very first indication that someone might be a douche bag), although he didn’t have a popped collar, which is the tell tale sign of a douche bag. He was also wearing these circa 1983, I-hang- out-at-Studio-54-and-do-enough-cocaine-to-kill-a-small-rhino glasses and he had his name, well I’m assuming it was his name, “Joel” tattooed twice on his arm; once on his left forearm and once on his right bicep...probably in case he forgets how to spell it when applying for various fast food positions. Although it wasn’t clear what kind of music he was listening to on his ghetto, look-alike pink iPod, he wasn’t shy about over enthusiastically mouthing the words to anyone that would look in his direction. Classic. I had to get a picture of this guy.
The train was fairly packed and so I decided to move over to a middle poll at the West 4th stop in order to get a better angle. Perfect. I was standing directly in front of him. The problem was that I have never actually tried to take a picture of someone that wasn’t aware of what I was doing. I pulled my phone out and pretended like I was reading my text messages. I wondered what would the douche bag would do if he knew I was taking a picture of him. I started to get a little nervous. Fuck it. This douche bag is going in my phone. My readers need to see this. Click. Damn the picture is blurry. Let’s try again. Click. Perfect! The douche is immortalized. Save to phone. Done and done.
And without further ado, please let me introduce you to the C train douche bag...
Cheers,
NYCDG
posted by NYC Drunk Guy at 1:39 PM
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