Dad's bitching Lexxus

For those of you who don't live in D.C. this post is about the kind of retarded bullshit wankers that my beloved hometown is infested with. Masses, no hordes really, of poorly dressed but highly effected dudes who live with their parents that think they're massively cool and swanky badasses.

They inhabit clubs and lounge style places all over town standing around looking squirrelly at each other all night and hating the guys who are actually there with women (being miserable). The guys at the bar with real live women in attendance are usually there in deference to their wives/ girlfriend's desire to hang out with her girlfriends and/or her hairdresser. I have at times been that guy, (salt of the earth husband that I am) and seen these puffed up chest hair sticking out of their TJ Maxx procured Alfani half-poly shirts up close and way too personal. The signature move is to ram their crotches into the back of any poor female who happens to be standing in front of them at the bar. They drink expensive cocktails poorly and for that and many more reasons illustrated below they deserve all the disdain that can be heaped upon them.

The bozos hang in packs which are sort of like bands where everyone thinks their shit is tremendously greater than everyone else's (obviously true in my case). They stand around and high-five and jerk each other off till 2:00 A.M when the bouncers tell them to get the fuck out or be killed, just like bands do. They all yell, "SEE YOU LATER PLAYER" and the like to the bartenders and staff on their way out to foment the illusion that their presence in the club has something more to do with popularity than the sad truth that they are simply brainless enough to stand in line to get into a bar and they carry a gold card that daddy gave them when they turned 24 and finished their first semester of community college. The bartenders nod at them, wish they would all burn in hell, and go about their business.

Post-clubbage the cadets (sans any women anywhere) go find some diner to infest and make stupid jokes to the waitress who fantasizes about putting rat poison in their overly sweetened and creamed coffee. Eventually the night winds up and they all hug a second longer than they should in the parking lot and go home alone. Upon arrival they creep in the house timidly and go to their rooms to silently masturbate so as not to wake up moms and dads. Another badass Saturday night for the party crew!

I mentioned that these freaks are similar to bands in their delusions and pack mentalities but at least bands produce something. True, most of it is shit, but they do SOMETHING. The club hangs do little but generate parking ticket and DWI revenue for the city and provide elusive targets for my vehicle when they spill into the streets late at night.

A friend of questionable intent sent me a link to the "D.C. Player Haters!" http://www.dcbachelor.com/2005/dc-player-haters which pretty much exemplifies the mindset and utter idiocy of said club hangs. Please check out the site so you can see the uni-browed monstrosities that make up this "gang". If you can stop laughing at the scarves and hair gel that makes them look like they lost a bet in a bukake parlor peruse the site for untold humor, wholly unintended in the way in which it presents itself.

I give you.....the DC Player Haters with their self described and unedited by me descriptions, (believe it or not) in black and my observations red.

DC Bachelor - I specialize in hating on people who try too hard to be cool, like the girls who dance on club couches. (rest of paragraph....."and blatantly ignore me when I try to talk to them until they tell me to fuck off when I get too persistent. Eventually their boyfriends take notice of me and I go and stand against the wall with the rest of my "crew" to avoid having to actually engage in what could be construed as badassery. Sometimes I catch myself subconsciously fondling my wiener in public places which is a bad habit that I want to do something about but my dad says he won't pay for me to see a therapist. What a prick!!!")

EUGENIUS - Eugenius’ specialty is hating on the “fake bitches” that front in the club. I'm pretty much on board with the theory that Eugenius masturbates six to eleven times a day to Cinemax and argues with his mother a lot. That’s about the extent of his “bitch” interaction.

VODKA BOY - VB hates on the supposed wannabe ballers who can’t hold a candle to his true player pimp status flame. No wonder he has so little to say. When you make Richard Simmons look like Charlie Bronson there's not a lot of legitimate "hating" to be done out there.

SPANIARD - Spaniard is unique in that his hating is directed at only one person: the DJ. Spaniard can only nod his head sideways at the constant trainwreck mixes that DC DJ’s have to offer. Hmmm.....my guess is Spaniard's tastes in music are slightly less interesting yet just as pretentious as an interview with Madonna about how a woman's period changes when she hits her forties and the glorious way it makes her Chakra radiate through her pants. Based on this description it also seems that his neck is bolted stiff, (“Spaniard can only nod his head sideways”) so if you see some Frankenstein looking pervert drinking a Cosmo and lolling his head uni-directionally next time you’re at the Chi-Cha lounge you have probably found your man.

INSOMNIA - Our resident metrosexual, Insomnia hates on the whack-ass styles that the DC people try to show off in the club. His critique of the trucker hat style was known before Ashton Kutcher ever made it popular. He is not gay. Gay is inconclusive, massive pussy.....confirmed. Here is one of his INSOMNIA'S awesome rants that he contributed to the site (with my commentary inserted).

Pizza Day by INSOMNIA... Alright this is a good one. (Enter dementia into evidence as exhibit A your honor). Monday night I bought myself a pizza for dinner and come home (dad's house) to dine. I have a slice and then run off to the gym (GROUP SHOWER NITE WITH THE CREW......WHEE!!!). I come back and its gone (Egad!). Turns out my brother (parasite) thought my dad (full time occupation wondering what the hell he did to deserve this whining lazy bastard as his offspring) bought it (which my father never shops at jerrys only pizza hut) (Fascinating! If you find this story sends you spiraling into a pure vegetative state feel free to scroll to the end...it doesn't get much better) and ate the entire thing. I let that one slide (Phew!) and said don't let it happen again. (BADASS!) Wensday (eh?) I bought a pizza for my dad and I, and one for my dinner on Thursday night. (Solid diet, no wonder the chicks find these "men" irresistible) On wensday (eh?) night I called my brother and told him, "Sean I am buying this pizza for my dinner tomorrow so don't go off eating it again this is my dinner". (BADASS!) I also told my father that the other pizza would be my dinner for the next day. (If I was said father I would piss all over the pie during this conversation just for giggles). Thursday afternoon I called my brother and told him not to eat my dinner for the second time. (Solid afternoon...must be a high pressure career). So anyhow I get off of work and come home. (dad’s house) WAIT!!!... (NO!) My pizza isn't there. (EEK!!!) I ask my father "have u seen my pizza?” (or my baseball?) His response, "I don't know where it is". (If that response was accompanied with a hanging right cross to the jaw I don't think it would be considered out of order) I notice an empty pizza box with no fucking pizza!!! (Call CSI...we have your new Greg). I am furious at this point. (BADASS!) Called my brother and cussed him out. (VENTI BADASS WITH AN EXTRA SHOT!) His first response "I didn't know it was ur pizza"...Bullshit!!! (If the CSI thing doesn't work out we have a new interrogator for Guantanamo Bay) After telling him? (AS IF!) Then a few minutes pass and more cussing...(GIMME A BADASS BISCOTTI AND A TIN OF BADASS BREATH MINTS!) "Dad told me I could eat it”. (HHAHAHA!!! I don't think dad was talking about the pizza at this point!) That's right Mr., "I don't know where it is", (et tu Papa...et tu?). I went off on both of them. (BADASSERY ABOUNDS!) I started to kick things off the floor (very manly) and cussed both of them out. (At this point if I was said father I would piss on the son, fuck the pizza) They said I was being childish!! (This just doesn't need any beefing up from me) Well fuck them. (Stamps foot, cries, thinks about masturbating...does so). Anyhow I am right, (so true) its rude and disrespectful to do that shit. (Moving out and having one's own refrigerator to safeguard the pizza...not an option).

I think Insomnia's family would be completely within their rights to drown him in a burlap sack thrown into the Anacostia River.

End of profiles….

So you see kids, this is the kind of thing that is endemic to D.C. nightlife which is why I hang primarily with the retards at the local bar. At least those dopes are self-actualized about the fact that they're massive losers that no woman would want to spend time with and pretty much keep to themselves. The guys above me with the stupid superhero nicknames, no such luck and I bet there’s none forthcoming. This type of delusion is 4 LYF PLAYAH!!!!!