Remember how I told you about the douchey guy with purple socks from our kickball league?
Well, much to my delight, we DID see him in the playoffs. His team was the #1 seed after the regular season and my team was the #2 seed. We went through the playoff brackets, playing other teams and eventually ended up facing each other in the championship game. We played the semi-finals (and won) and then played in the final game last Wednesday, in a double-header championship night. (This was on Wednesday, 36 hours before I left for Singapore. After the game I went to REI and Target to buy the requisite trip items and stayed up all night doing laundry and packing. Just to give you some context.)
Dude returned, still wearing the purple socks, on a team that was still WAY too intense for a kickball league that is named "The SoftCore League".
But whatevs. We played kickball, we had fun. Purple Socks guy was way less douchey than when we played them before. We lost the game, but had fun, so we feel good about our second place certificate.
That's all.
Showing posts with label DBOTW. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DBOTW. Show all posts
Monday, August 20, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Douchebag of the Week
Y'all. I have some friends who are dating DUDES.
I mean....DUDES.
Pie recently went through this with a 20-something-year-old dude who wore low-slung sweatpants with a popped-collar polo shirt and sunglasses on his forehead after dark. In Seattle. Where we dont have sun anyway.
Then there's Queenie. Who's been seeing this dude for 3 months (or so). And when they hang out, they have a great time. He's super fun and sporty and interesting and thinks she's super fun and interesting. They have fun outings or just fun conversations over dinner, etc.
There are just a couple of problems here:
- They've been seeing each other for 3 months and never has the conversation of "are we exclusive?" come up. When you're in college, or immediately thereafter, that may seem normal. But by the time you are a real adult, you are likely not dating just for fun and want to be in a relationship. And if the guy you're seeing is a real adult (NOTE: age is just a number when it comes to this. more on that later.), he'll be in the same situation. Men are pretty simple: they like what they like. If he likes you and wants to be in a relationship with you, he's not going to let much time go by before he tries to lock you down. Let's take Fritha and Conan for example. Four months after they met, they were dating pretty seriously and he's trying to figure out how to drop the L bomb without freaking her out. Even BF and me - once I realized we were dating, it was not long at all (< 3 months) before we were serious. He was dragging me to his work functions, to meet his friends in other cities, to meet his family in another state. (standard disclaimer: every relationship is different and everybody moves at their own pace, blah blah blah so, you know, whatevs)
- The guy, let's call him Tank, doesnt have a "real job" so he has a weird schedule and lots of time on his hands. Therefore he takes lots of last minute side trips to play golf, go to the beach, go to a wedding. Due to this, his schedule is a little wacky and he isnt really into planning things. Which would be fine, except that it bugs Queenie. She has her ess together and likes to plan things. Case in point: July 2, she texts him to ask if he has July 4th plans and invites him to hang out. He tells her he's not sure he's going to be in town. July 4th was a Wednesday this year. Makes impromptu out-of-town trips a little harder. And yet, still, less than 48 hours before fireworks time, he's not sure he's going to be in town. This is either a blow-off or the lame, flaky truth, but either way, ugh.
- But even the flakiness and lack of scheduling could be overlooked....except.....his preferred communication method is texting. Now, as a general rule, I'm not anti-texting. But it is a limited sort of communication vehicle and needs to be balanced with phone calls, emails, post cards, in-person chats, etc. to have real conversations. Apparently Tank does not agree. He pretty much ONLY texts Queenie. Even after she told him that she would like them to add more in-person time in among the texting, he continues to primarily text her.
So, Queenie decides this is not the kind of relationship she wants to be in and responds to his text by saying "BTW - I'm kinda over all this texting. LMK if you wanna hang out in person sometime."
She is clearly articulating a communication preference to someone with whom she is going on dates. I support this.
The response,via text of course, effectively clenching his spot as DBOTW: "ok".
Queenie is walking away, head held high.
I mean....DUDES.
Pie recently went through this with a 20-something-year-old dude who wore low-slung sweatpants with a popped-collar polo shirt and sunglasses on his forehead after dark. In Seattle. Where we dont have sun anyway.
Then there's Queenie. Who's been seeing this dude for 3 months (or so). And when they hang out, they have a great time. He's super fun and sporty and interesting and thinks she's super fun and interesting. They have fun outings or just fun conversations over dinner, etc.
There are just a couple of problems here:
- They've been seeing each other for 3 months and never has the conversation of "are we exclusive?" come up. When you're in college, or immediately thereafter, that may seem normal. But by the time you are a real adult, you are likely not dating just for fun and want to be in a relationship. And if the guy you're seeing is a real adult (NOTE: age is just a number when it comes to this. more on that later.), he'll be in the same situation. Men are pretty simple: they like what they like. If he likes you and wants to be in a relationship with you, he's not going to let much time go by before he tries to lock you down. Let's take Fritha and Conan for example. Four months after they met, they were dating pretty seriously and he's trying to figure out how to drop the L bomb without freaking her out. Even BF and me - once I realized we were dating, it was not long at all (< 3 months) before we were serious. He was dragging me to his work functions, to meet his friends in other cities, to meet his family in another state. (standard disclaimer: every relationship is different and everybody moves at their own pace, blah blah blah so, you know, whatevs)
- The guy, let's call him Tank, doesnt have a "real job" so he has a weird schedule and lots of time on his hands. Therefore he takes lots of last minute side trips to play golf, go to the beach, go to a wedding. Due to this, his schedule is a little wacky and he isnt really into planning things. Which would be fine, except that it bugs Queenie. She has her ess together and likes to plan things. Case in point: July 2, she texts him to ask if he has July 4th plans and invites him to hang out. He tells her he's not sure he's going to be in town. July 4th was a Wednesday this year. Makes impromptu out-of-town trips a little harder. And yet, still, less than 48 hours before fireworks time, he's not sure he's going to be in town.
- But even the flakiness and lack of scheduling could be overlooked....except.....his preferred communication method is texting. Now, as a general rule, I'm not anti-texting. But it is a limited sort of communication vehicle and needs to be balanced with phone calls, emails, post cards, in-person chats, etc. to have real conversations. Apparently Tank does not agree. He pretty much ONLY texts Queenie. Even after she told him that she would like them to add more in-person time in among the texting, he continues to primarily text her.
So, Queenie decides this is not the kind of relationship she wants to be in and responds to his text by saying "BTW - I'm kinda over all this texting. LMK if you wanna hang out in person sometime."
She is clearly articulating a communication preference to someone with whom she is going on dates. I support this.
The response,via text of course, effectively clenching his spot as DBOTW: "ok".
Queenie is walking away, head held high.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Douchebag of the Week
DBOTW: purple socks guy
So, my office has a kickball team. It's pretty fun. We've played 3 games so far and won 2 of them. We won the most recent game in a...um...decisive conclusion.
But back to game #2. We played this team that was pretty good and they seemed like fun people. Except this one guy. He seemed like a punk.
Disclaimer: my assessment of him as a punk is based purely on my POV and outlook on life. You may disagree. Knock yo self out.
This one guy was wearing purple knee socks and cleats with his kickball "uniform" of too long workout shorts and a team t-shirt. Note: his team t-shirt was NOT purple. Grey, I think. Also, the field where we play is basically a grassy area in one side of a city park. We have rules like "if you hit the jungle gym with the ball in the air, it's a home run. If the ball bounces up the slide or through the swings, it's a ground-rule double." We have cute team names and matching shirts, but we do NOT wear cleats. There is no catcher's gear. It is not hard core.
Anywho, this guy was just kind of a punk. He kicked the ball and once he saw that it landed in a hole and he felt confident he would safely make it to first base, he quit running. He QUIT RUNNING. I was raised in sports leagues that teach you you are always running between the lines. To your position, from your position, any time you are on base. If you are moving, you are running. You hustle down to first base, run through the bag to make sure you're crossing the base at top speed. That's just what you do!
Not this guy. He just strolls into first base. Every time. No running. No hustle. No effort. Disrespecting the game.
THEN. When he gets to first, he proceeds to stand there scratching himself and muttering. And then, when a ground ball is kicked down the first base line, he steps off the base, directly between me and the path of the ball, so that I cant field the ball. He stands there until the ball is about to hit him, then he moves. But by this point, I'm out of position, cant make the play I wanted and cant get him or the kicker out. Grrrr.
In my book, that's poor sportsmanship. You play hard, you play by the rules and you respect the other players - both on your team and the other team. Even in a kickball league played in city parks.
So, congratulations, purple socks guy. You are the DBOTW. I hope we see you in the playoffs.
So, my office has a kickball team. It's pretty fun. We've played 3 games so far and won 2 of them. We won the most recent game in a...um...decisive conclusion.
But back to game #2. We played this team that was pretty good and they seemed like fun people. Except this one guy. He seemed like a punk.
Disclaimer: my assessment of him as a punk is based purely on my POV and outlook on life. You may disagree. Knock yo self out.
This one guy was wearing purple knee socks and cleats with his kickball "uniform" of too long workout shorts and a team t-shirt. Note: his team t-shirt was NOT purple. Grey, I think. Also, the field where we play is basically a grassy area in one side of a city park. We have rules like "if you hit the jungle gym with the ball in the air, it's a home run. If the ball bounces up the slide or through the swings, it's a ground-rule double." We have cute team names and matching shirts, but we do NOT wear cleats. There is no catcher's gear. It is not hard core.
Anywho, this guy was just kind of a punk. He kicked the ball and once he saw that it landed in a hole and he felt confident he would safely make it to first base, he quit running. He QUIT RUNNING. I was raised in sports leagues that teach you you are always running between the lines. To your position, from your position, any time you are on base. If you are moving, you are running. You hustle down to first base, run through the bag to make sure you're crossing the base at top speed. That's just what you do!
Not this guy. He just strolls into first base. Every time. No running. No hustle. No effort. Disrespecting the game.
THEN. When he gets to first, he proceeds to stand there scratching himself and muttering. And then, when a ground ball is kicked down the first base line, he steps off the base, directly between me and the path of the ball, so that I cant field the ball. He stands there until the ball is about to hit him, then he moves. But by this point, I'm out of position, cant make the play I wanted and cant get him or the kicker out. Grrrr.
In my book, that's poor sportsmanship. You play hard, you play by the rules and you respect the other players - both on your team and the other team. Even in a kickball league played in city parks.
So, congratulations, purple socks guy. You are the DBOTW. I hope we see you in the playoffs.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Douchebag of the Week
This week's DBOTW goes to a very large portion of the population.
20-something men everywhere.
We should not get excited about the fact that you call when you say you will.This should be SOP. And yet, because so many of you refuse to do this and we have the low self-esteem/naivete/eternal optimism to think that we need to wait for you to call, we allow it.
The shenanigans have GOT to stop.
Men: call when you say you will. Show up when you're supposed to. Or lock yourself up on your 24th birthday and re-enter society when you turn 28. Or can behave like an adult. Whichever comes first.
Women: stop allowing this mess. Eff that noise.
Together we can break the vicious cycle.
*this post is dedicated to a precious little 23-year-old girl I work with. She's learning a lot.....
20-something men everywhere.
We should not get excited about the fact that you call when you say you will.This should be SOP. And yet, because so many of you refuse to do this and we have the low self-esteem/naivete/eternal optimism to think that we need to wait for you to call, we allow it.
The shenanigans have GOT to stop.
Men: call when you say you will. Show up when you're supposed to. Or lock yourself up on your 24th birthday and re-enter society when you turn 28. Or can behave like an adult. Whichever comes first.
Women: stop allowing this mess. Eff that noise.
Together we can break the vicious cycle.
*this post is dedicated to a precious little 23-year-old girl I work with. She's learning a lot.....
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Douchebag of the Week
On the way back from Gen Con last week, I was seated in seat 9A, per my usual. I always try to sit in a window seat in a row 10 or lower. I don't like the bulkhead or exit rows. I LOVE the free upgrade to first class, but I can't count on that.
So I was sitting in 9A, on my way back to Seattle after a short layover in Houston, when my row-mates joined me. The lady on the aisle sat down and pulled out a book and headphones and got situated. I like her style.
The dude in the middle seat. Yeah...about that. He sits down wearing jeans, a long-sleeved button-down shirt and a shearling-lined jacket. And a frayed straw cowboy-style hat. And a pair of "diamond" earrings. Keep in mind, we're flying from Houston, TEXAS to Seattle, in the middle of AUGUST. There is no need for the shearling-lined jacket.
He proceeded to fall asleep and slump onto the lady on the aisle. She leans over to get out from under him and is hanging out into the aisle when the flight attendant walks by. The flight attendant then says "Excuse me, do y'all know him?" (Houston-based flight crew, clearly) We respond that we don't know him and the flight attendant shakes him awake and tells him he's not allowed to fall asleep on strangers. Here's to you, miss flight attendant lady!
The guy re-adjusts himself in his seat and falls back asleep for a bit, while I pulled out my notebook PC and proceeded to catch up on email. I have my headphones in, watching the in-flight movie (My Life in Ruins, starring Nia Vardalos. It was cute, but not awesome) and doing work. It's pretty obvious I don't want to make small talk with my seatmates.
At this point, the dude wakes up, taps me and says "how much longer til we get there?"
Blink. Blink. Seriously?
So I tell him that we're probably half way through our 4-hour flight and therefore have about 2 more hours. He goes back to sleep for half an hour, then wakes up and taps me again.
Dude: "Where did we stop?"
Me: "Um...we stop in Seattle??"
Dude: "No, where are we now. Didn't we stop?"
Me: "Uh...no. We're still in the air."
Dude: "Oh. How much longer til we get there?"
Me: "Well, we land at 2:30pm and it's 1pm now, so about another hour and a half."
Dude: "Ugh. This is a long flight"
Half-hour later....
tap tap tap
Dude (while looking at my computer screen): "What time is it?"
Me (turning computer away from him): "It's 1:30pm"
Dude: "So are we almost there?"
(SERIOUSLY)
Me: "About another hour"
Dude: "When do we start heading down?"
Me: "Soon. Very soon."
People who are old enough to travel unaccompanied without special attention from the flight crew are not allowed to ask questions like that. Period.
I usually have such good luck with airplane seatmates....I guess I was due.
So I was sitting in 9A, on my way back to Seattle after a short layover in Houston, when my row-mates joined me. The lady on the aisle sat down and pulled out a book and headphones and got situated. I like her style.
The dude in the middle seat. Yeah...about that. He sits down wearing jeans, a long-sleeved button-down shirt and a shearling-lined jacket. And a frayed straw cowboy-style hat. And a pair of "diamond" earrings. Keep in mind, we're flying from Houston, TEXAS to Seattle, in the middle of AUGUST. There is no need for the shearling-lined jacket.
He proceeded to fall asleep and slump onto the lady on the aisle. She leans over to get out from under him and is hanging out into the aisle when the flight attendant walks by. The flight attendant then says "Excuse me, do y'all know him?" (Houston-based flight crew, clearly) We respond that we don't know him and the flight attendant shakes him awake and tells him he's not allowed to fall asleep on strangers. Here's to you, miss flight attendant lady!
The guy re-adjusts himself in his seat and falls back asleep for a bit, while I pulled out my notebook PC and proceeded to catch up on email. I have my headphones in, watching the in-flight movie (My Life in Ruins, starring Nia Vardalos. It was cute, but not awesome) and doing work. It's pretty obvious I don't want to make small talk with my seatmates.
At this point, the dude wakes up, taps me and says "how much longer til we get there?"
Blink. Blink. Seriously?
So I tell him that we're probably half way through our 4-hour flight and therefore have about 2 more hours. He goes back to sleep for half an hour, then wakes up and taps me again.
Dude: "Where did we stop?"
Me: "Um...we stop in Seattle??"
Dude: "No, where are we now. Didn't we stop?"
Me: "Uh...no. We're still in the air."
Dude: "Oh. How much longer til we get there?"
Me: "Well, we land at 2:30pm and it's 1pm now, so about another hour and a half."
Dude: "Ugh. This is a long flight"
Half-hour later....
tap tap tap
Dude (while looking at my computer screen): "What time is it?"
Me (turning computer away from him): "It's 1:30pm"
Dude: "So are we almost there?"
(SERIOUSLY)
Me: "About another hour"
Dude: "When do we start heading down?"
Me: "Soon. Very soon."
People who are old enough to travel unaccompanied without special attention from the flight crew are not allowed to ask questions like that. Period.
I usually have such good luck with airplane seatmates....I guess I was due.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Douchebag of the Week
This week's honor goes to an unnamed group. I'm not withholding names to protect the innocent. These douches a) are not innocent and b) deserve to be called out. Sadly, I do not know their names.
This week's DBOTW: car thieves. Specifically, the jerkfaces who stole my car.
Anybody who will take my 1990s Honda from my parking lot late on a Friday night and abandon it 1.5 blocks away is a douchebag. They ripped out the ignition box to start it (and drive it 1.5 blocks) and then just left it in the parking lot of Pie and Fritha's former apartment building. They didn't even take the Bacon Salt that was in the car.
They didn't take the clothes, the football or the beer (I have a couple of cans of Natty Light in the trunk, leftover from "Poor Life Choices" theme night at mini-golf. I had forgotten they were there until the thieves' rummaging uncovered them.)
They didn't even go joy riding in the car. I happened to remember the mileage on my trip odomoter when I left a friend's house the night before it was taken (577.5). She lives 15 (or so) miles away from me, so when I found the car with an unmoved gas gauge needle and a trip odometer of 592.3, I knew they SERIOUSLY drove it a block and a half.
The snotrags' little 1.5 block jaunt cost me $500 for a new ignition...box...thing. And now I have to use 2 different keys on my car: one to open the door, one to drive. It's annoying. And not fair.
Now if this were the first time my car had been stolen, I might just be grateful to get it back.
But no.
The first time, the jerks who stole it abandoned it in Kent (a hole of a town 30 minutes away) with the windows down (in Seattle, in the winter) and stole some clothes I had in the car. Some nice clothes that I needed to drop off to be dry-cleaned.
The second time, the d-nozzles drove it a few miles away, left the lights on, which drained the battery, and the door open. They left the computer in the trunk and left the clothes I needed to drop at Goodwill in the back seat. But the box of hand-me-down dishes I inherited from Rosie...they took.
So this time, when my car was stolen, I was kinda hoping it wouldn't come back. It's my first theft since moving to the LQA and I thought maybe I was free. Bah.
And that's why Car Thieves get named Douchebag of the Week. And why my car's nickname is "Boomer" - as in "Ang" not "Esiason".
This week's DBOTW: car thieves. Specifically, the jerkfaces who stole my car.
Anybody who will take my 1990s Honda from my parking lot late on a Friday night and abandon it 1.5 blocks away is a douchebag. They ripped out the ignition box to start it (and drive it 1.5 blocks) and then just left it in the parking lot of Pie and Fritha's former apartment building. They didn't even take the Bacon Salt that was in the car.
They didn't take the clothes, the football or the beer (I have a couple of cans of Natty Light in the trunk, leftover from "Poor Life Choices" theme night at mini-golf. I had forgotten they were there until the thieves' rummaging uncovered them.)
They didn't even go joy riding in the car. I happened to remember the mileage on my trip odomoter when I left a friend's house the night before it was taken (577.5). She lives 15 (or so) miles away from me, so when I found the car with an unmoved gas gauge needle and a trip odometer of 592.3, I knew they SERIOUSLY drove it a block and a half.
The snotrags' little 1.5 block jaunt cost me $500 for a new ignition...box...thing. And now I have to use 2 different keys on my car: one to open the door, one to drive. It's annoying. And not fair.
Now if this were the first time my car had been stolen, I might just be grateful to get it back.
But no.
The first time, the jerks who stole it abandoned it in Kent (a hole of a town 30 minutes away) with the windows down (in Seattle, in the winter) and stole some clothes I had in the car. Some nice clothes that I needed to drop off to be dry-cleaned.
The second time, the d-nozzles drove it a few miles away, left the lights on, which drained the battery, and the door open. They left the computer in the trunk and left the clothes I needed to drop at Goodwill in the back seat. But the box of hand-me-down dishes I inherited from Rosie...they took.
So this time, when my car was stolen, I was kinda hoping it wouldn't come back. It's my first theft since moving to the LQA and I thought maybe I was free. Bah.
And that's why Car Thieves get named Douchebag of the Week. And why my car's nickname is "Boomer" - as in "Ang" not "Esiason".
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