Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Let's be totally honest with ourselves, soap operas are totally up our alley! I had never watched one, aside from the always plot sophisticated random telenovella, until Bob Wiley suggested "The Bold and the Beautiful". Frankly, it changed my life. B&B, the masterpiece, revolves around two rival fashion houses. To be expected, every character had married each other 50 times. But, due to subject matter, as a special treat, there are fashion shows that are a cross between a 1991 John Paul Gaultier show and your current Joyce Leslie summer line. This show is everything.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
This past weekend I woke up at 8:30 in the morning extremely hungover and immediately started throwing up. After nursing my sickness and watching 2 previously taped episodes of "The Bold and the Beautiful", I left to begin my quest to buy sports bras for the gym. I know you are thinking, how does this bitch have the nerve to exercise with all the degenerate behaviour she partakes in? Umm, I don't exercise, but I just joined the gym and before I could start not going, I needed the proper equipment.
Anyway, I headed down Broadway to the Filene's Basement. Upon entering, I noticed there were no sports bras to be found. My head pounding and vomit on my shirt, I waltzed up to a saleswoman and asked for her help. She said they didn't carry any, but the Danskin store on Broadway did. It was at this point I looked her in the face and said " And where is Broadway from here?" to which she responded "Ohhh, you are a tourist! You are on Broadway!" This is my 8th year here and I am obviously becoming more and more of a douche as the years go by.
P.S The Danskin store charged me about $50 for those sports bras. My life is shit.
Friday, July 10, 2009
This story comes from a dear friend of mine located in New York, New York. She would like to be known Spaghetti Cat. Okay, I want her to be known as Spaghetti Cat. The story comes from her college years. Awat we go! Warning: some might find this content objectionable. Remember, we don't condone it..
Senior year in college, I went to a pre-game at my friends' apartment. I noticed there were several very young women present and the whole thing felt very Roman Polanski. I was told that my male friends had met them outside one of the freshmen dorms and invited them to a party. I liked the girls and suggested that they leave before things turned ugly. No one headed the warning.
While being sexually harassed by one of my drunken friends, I zoomed in on a freshman girl who was an exact 300 pound doppelganger for Hatchet Face from the movie “Cry Baby” speaking to my particularly classy friend. I rushed over, but was stopped by my walking STD friend who suggested we take a shot. Since I bordered on alcoholism, I figured why not. Next, I had a touching conversation with my friend, where he referred to me strictly as "Sweet Tits" This, of course, was a clever means of distracting the only feminist in the apartment so my other friend could bring Hatchet Face into the bathroom and have sex with her.
As the two exited the bathroom, Hatchet Face skipped towards me, filling her shot glass with Southern Comfort, turning to me to say "I was so worried that when I left for college I would never meet anyone. But it is only my first week here and I have already met you guys, who remind me exactly of my friends from home!” I swigged my drink, trying to ignore the awkward delusion that I just encountered.
Thirty minutes later, the boys were ready to close up shop and head to the bars where the magic happened. Fake i.d. from 6th Avenue City baby! As the doors were being locked, my friend approached, looked me straight in the face and asked “ Do you think you could run in those shoes?” I looked down at my 3 inch heels and answered “Umm, from the Heat yes, but I would care to avoid it. Why?” My friend pointed in the direction of Hatchet Face and responded “ Because we are going to have to run from that bitch right there!”, grabbing me, and literally dragged me down the street, full sprint. I was told not to look back, like a modern day Sodom and Gomora.
S.C, who loves you baby?!Your friends are true gentlemen and scholars! I imagine writing that story down will save you some money on the inevitable therapy that followed. Thanks for the submission! Please send all submissions to email@example.com
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Photo courtesy of CNN.com
So apparently they are going to open up that can of crazy and bring Michael Jackson's dead body to the Staples Center in L.A. Is it just us over here, or does it seem somewhat strange that they are televising the whole thing and there will be livestreams from so many networks? I guess when Princess Diana went, there wasn't as much access to this type of thing but this just seems a little much. May he rest in peace
I was hung over on the train the other morning ( naturally, since it was a day that ends in “y”) listening to some Peter Cetera on my Ipod when this 15 year old girl stood up. She walked to the center of the train car and said the following:
“ Good morning ladies and gentlemen. My name is Tanya. I am 15 years old and a student. I am not homeless and I do not steal. I do have a job but what I do not have is a piece of gum. Please ladies and gentlemen, if you could find it in your heart to give me a piece of gum, I would be forever greatful! Even if you give me nothing, God bless you!”
This could have been one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life and NO ONE laughed! Was the microphone on? I bet if she smashed a watermelon with a sledgehammer they would laugh, clearly they lack taste. And you know I looked for a piece of gum for Tanya….
Editor’s Note: How come what is going on in the picture above has never happened to me? Where the hell are the ladies in the skimpy outfits handing out Snackwells when I ride the damn train?
Thursday, July 2, 2009
I know we said there would be no more posts because of the move blah blah blah, but one of my friends at work ( yes I have friends other than the Editors here and I also have a job miraculously, regardless of how often I view Casual Encounters on craigslist) and he told me this hilarious story and I couldn't deal with it!
My friend, Anthony is a Chelsea queen type gay guy. You know, extremely well dressed, doesn't eat, lives in the Upper West Side. Anyway, he was telling me how in the late 90s, he decided he wanted to be in a "scene". He had always been higly conservative, and just wanted to really involve himself in something. Sooo, the obvious lifestyle choice was to become very interested in 90s dance music. He already had a hard on for C&C Music Factory and it was the advent of KTU, so it was easy access. You are thinking, Burt, this is so goddamn typical, give me something. Shhh my young padione, it is coming...
So he buys tickets to this huge dance concert that was held at Webster Hall. Picture it, it is 1997. The concert has big names such as La Bouche and the Quad City Djs. Naturally, you also want to know if Crush who sang "Jellyhead" was there. The answer is YES!!! Anthony is at the concert, minding his own business, swaying to "C'Mon Ride The Train" when all of a sudden, some drunken 16 year old girl starts flailing about next to him. Well, my friend being the prick he is, he refused to move an inch. This bitch would not steal his thunder! He stood his ground and was consequently smashed in the face by the girl's fist, almost knocking him unconscious.
It was at this point that my friend looked the girl in the face teary eyed and said " You motherless twat, who raised you!" and stormed out of the venue. The next day he had a black eye. Much like a domestic violence sufferer, he lied and said he got the damage from falling. But we know better. He has yet to ever go to another concert and may or may not be a functioning alcoholic at this point. Oh yeah, and he is still gay.
Editor's Note: I am fairly sure this is live footage from the concert he attended. That is him, 1:24 in!!!!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
So as Burt has informed all our many readers, your Weekend Douche editors are all in the process of moving. This past Saturday night, after the big move, old Bob Wiley decided to stay in the apartment and vegetate while Nora, Burt and Harvey's Mom, the consummate weekend douches, went to a party in the East Village (I'm sure you guys have realized by now, I'm the quiet Beatle). It's about midnight at this point. Bored, crabby, and without cable television to console me, I decided to have a few beers and hang my curtains. I was standing on my bed and still having trouble, as we have high ceilings in the new place, but finally got the fuckers up. I decided to do a victory move, jumping in the air with an enthusiastic fist pump and landing Indian style on my bed, much like a 4 year old who just found out there would be 2 episodes of Duck Tales on instead of the usual 1. I think you know what happened, Mary Lou Retton over here broke the god damn bed frame. Obviously I had done an amazing job putting it together.
I decided to attempt to fix the situation. I was wearing my very favorite pajama pants and was sort of sliding around on the floor, from one side of the bed to the other, trying to ascertain what the problem was. All of a sudden I hear a loud rip. Apparently there was a nail sticking slightly up out of the floor, and said nail split my pants right down the middle. (I find the concept of splitting your pants to be the funniest thing that could ever happen.) At this point I decided I couldn't endure any further humiliation, put my mattress on the floor, and went to bed, battered but not broken. Three days later and that mattress is still on the floor, I suspect it will be for quite some time.
**Please note, that is not actually a picture of me. I was wearing underpants, I'll have you know.**
Awhile ago, Vladamir stayed at my apartment one night and left his jacket. So, for three weeks, he called myself and my roommates, which included Harvey’s Mom at the time, about the goddamn jacket. You would think this shit was covered in Swarovski Crystals the way he was acting. Instead, it was a $35 Adidas zip up running jacket he bought at the Foot Locker. He would later claimed he purchased this thing in Hungary, but ain’t nothing Hungarian except his lack of personal space.
So obviously, being the people we are, my roommates and I decided that since he was being such a ridiculous prick about the whole thing, his ass was never getting that jacket back. We were bold at first, wearing the jacket to events, half hoping to tempt faith, him seeing us in the jacket and our responding with something along the lines of “Well you talked so much about that fucking jacket, I had to see what all the fuss was about. It sure is comfortable!” In fact, I hid it in my house in New Jersey for safekeeping to make sure things didn’t get physical. I can just imagine him reading this blog, finding this shit out, and taking my 93 year old Italian grandmother hostage over this.
Recently, we have been toying with the idea of taking the jacket to foreign countries and photographing it with various landmarks, like the Eiffel Tower, Empire State Building, etc. Again, just toying. Nothing is set in stone. YET.
Editor's Note: My computer just froze while trying to download a pic. and my fork broke while eating my breakfast. Vladamir has put some weird Eastern European gypsy hex on me!! It is like the movie "Thinnner". I should ask him to cure me into a functional alcoholic....
Friday, June 26, 2009
On our behalf of all of us at Weeekend Douche, we would like to say that out hearts go out to the family and friends of Micahel Jackson. I know we don't usually follow actual news that doesn't involve someone falling in their own vomit, but this is one of those times when something should be said. He was not only a huge talent and one of the greatest singers/performers ever, but he was also an icon. He will be missed.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Feast your eyes on this!!! Today I have been googling "Golden Retriever Puppies" and ooohing and ahhhing over the results. I didn't think it fair to be selfish, since we are having an off week and can't post. Thus, here is your consolation prize. Please enjoy on behalf of us! Tell me the one in the middle doesn't look exactly like Comet from "Full House".
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Let's be honest, the best investment I ever made in my life was "The Secret", because I have been sitting here willing our move back to Manhattan and it has finally happened!!! Just wanted to give everyone a quick heads up that the site will not be updated too much this week, since we are packing our shit and heading North my friends!!! Brother Jimmy's and Jake's Dilemma here we come!
Monday, June 22, 2009
And now, the stunning conclusion of Lil' Jimmy from Tenafly's epic story of one wild night with Ernie:
Cut to ten minutes later. Vans and Ivan are saying, “Come on Ernie, you know you want to go in the pool!” “I do?” Ernie asks? We all go outside toward the pool and Ernie starts to take off his shirt when Ivan and Vans explode in a barrage of dead-leg and dead-arm punches to Ernie. “Get him in the pool!” Vans yells. They struggle with him and he escapes, past the pool to behind the tool shed while Ivan and Vans split up to surround him. I hear a scuffle and Ernie screams “Stop!” and then nothing. Vans and Ivan emerge looking smug. I pick up Ernie’s shirt and walked behind the shed to find Ernie lying in the dirt, rolling back and forth slightly, saying “bastards, bastards.” “Hey man, you gotta put your shirt on, it’s fucking freezing out here!” I’m trying to get his hands to open and accept his shirt. He says, “Fuck you bastards!” and throws a big clump of dirt in my face. “I was trying to help you, you fuck!” I yell as I claw at my eyes. So I kick him. And I leave him there, with his shirt sitting on top of him.
Ivan and Vans are sitting by the pool smoking cigarettes, laughing and unconcerned. I return and sit with them, eyes still burning and half-blind. We sit there for a few minutes and suddenly we see a dark form emerge from behind the shed. Ernie managed to get his shirt back on. He walks toward us soberly and quietly and then starts running and hurls himself into the dark water of the pool. “Shit,” Ivan said, “get the fuck out of there, you crazy bastard! He’s gonna freeze!” He reached for Ernie but Ernie just swam into the center of the pool treading water and not speaking. Vans was still sitting in one of the lawn chairs and was chuckling himself into a frenzy.
“I gotta take care of everything,” Ivan said, pulling off his t-shirt and flexing his massive arms and pecks. He jumps in the water and pulls Ivan out like a mother otter pulling out her weakest pup. Ivan pulls away and hops back in the pool. This goes on for several minutes, at one point I remember Ernie half in and half out of the pool, lying face down on the concrete with his legs still dangling in the water, and Vans walks over and drops a huge mess of dust and leaves on Ernie’s head. We eventually got Ernie out of the pool and he collapsed permanently on the Oriental rug in the kitchen. There he slept till morning. Are we the biggest douchebag friends ever or what?
We love submissions, so please send them to firstname.lastname@example.org!!!
Friday, June 19, 2009
(Photo courtesy of Dlisted)
In case you haven't been following the story as closely as I have, my alter ego, Katie Price aka Jordan, has separated with her husband, trashy Eurohunk (redundant?) Peter Andre. As sad as it is, of course, to see the dissolution of a marriage, especially since they have kids, a part of me is rejoicing because now that Katie is on the prowl, she's back to her old Jordan ways. Meaning, on a typical evening out she'll get shitfaced, feel somebody up in a bathroom, and threaten to cut a bitch. So here's to you, Katie! Douche it up for all the single ladies out there.
It seems that she's already found a new over-tanned, over-muscled Eurohunk. I really like her outfit in this photo, especially since she can't seem to walk unassisted. But who could stand up in those shoes? I feel her pain. As I myself once said outside of San Loco, "I hate these fucking shoes!"
As much as I dislike linking to Perez, this article sums up Katie's recent activity quite nicely: http://perezhilton.com/2009-06-18-jordan-on-the-loose
Finally, there will be no funny picture. My computer is funky. You have an imagination, just think of a can of Mountain Dew busting out of the Rockies or something.
So I don't know if you guys are keen to it yet, but there is this little thing called liveblogging. It involves someone literally sitting on their laptop/i-phone typing everything they see, minute by minute. The posts are usually filled with completely unimportant information and extreme attention to superflous detail. The whole thing sounds obnoxious!! So, obviously, we are going to start doiing it tonight at a bar in Williamsburg. I can only imagine the observations our drunk asses will come up with. An example of what is to come:
12:28 Just finished vomiting in the bathroom. Wonderful dial handsoap. Classy.
12:31 Fifth rum and diet. LGMBB just told someone she works for the FBI. Things are getting heated.
12:33 Nora fell off a stool. No one can find Harvey's Mom!!!!
I just arrived home from Bonnaroo and there was douchiness abound. I have to say I was one of the leading contributors by doing things such as shotgunning a beer at 7 am. The first of many Bonnaroo stories I have to share is a cautionary tale.
I was at the NIN show, which started around 1. There are bleechers surrounding this particular stage and I was standing to the side of them by the railing. I noticed a girl stumbling down the side f the bleachers, holding her mouth. At this point I have to say I was the only one that noticed her. She got to the first row of the bleachers and for some reason turned around and faced the people sitting in them, still holding her mouth. And with that, she blew chunks on the entire first row of the NIN show. It was very much like that scene in Stand by Me. I didn't stick around to see the aftermath but I suspect it involved a young woman beaten to death with a glow stick. You seriously do not want to play with NIN fans.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
This classic submission comes to us from our dedicated reader, RojoCalienteLover:
I encountered a classic instance of weekend douchery while visiting my girlfriend in Philly a few weeks ago. My girl and I were heading to the Dockstreet Brewery (bangin pizza, busted in the face hipster waitresses with shitty tattoos) when we passed a bar with a group of people standing outside. As we got closer, we saw that a woman was getting up in the face of one of the dudes, waving her arms and screaming at the top of her lungs. It was then that we heard the magical words "AH DO NOT SELL MAH PUSSAY FOR MONEH!!!!" come out of the woman's mouth. She continued to prove that she indeed does not sell her pussy for money, listing her numerous professional qualifications (apparently she has an associates degree in psychology and is currently employed as a councelor, thank you very much). Unfortunately the bar's owner came out at that point and told them to take their fuckery elsewhere, so we were unable to determine how this misunderstanding came to be in the first place, and just why this man was under the impression that she might sell her pussy for money. Still, this conversation has to be in the running for some sort of douche-nozzle award.
Thanks Rojo! Excellent citizen journalism. And readers, if you need to find some pussy for sale, you know where to find me!
P.S. If anyone knows how to make an LOLCat using the above title, that would be awesome.
Dear Esteemed Managers of the Second Avenue San Loco Location:
As a dedicated patron for many years, I feel compelled to write you to let you know that my experience at your establishment last weekend was subpar at best. I arrived at 3am on a Friday night, which is generally indicative of the best time to dine at your restaurant. I find that the late night chefs really know how to work that liquid cheese and grade C ground beef. (Did they train with Ducasse? Perhaps they studied at the Cordon Bleu?)
In short, I ordered my usual, the chicken chipotle Burrito Loco, and I could not believe how altered it was from the sensory experience I remember. There was barely any pico de gallo or guacamole, but the real problem lay with the sauce. The burrito loco SHOULD NOT be topped with sour cream. Its true beauty lies in the unique, nuanced layering of flavors in its rightful, buttery cream sauce. While savoring the dish at the Williamsburg San Loco, sometimes I wonder if I taste hints of Madagascar vanilla or star anise.
Perhaps you can take a cue from Starbucks. When they finally realized that their drip coffee tasted like shit and they needed to do something about it, they closed every location for 30 minutes while they had a staff meeting and taught baristas how to make a perfect cup, because it's so difficult to put a filter in a coffee machine. Maybe you should have a meeting with your Williamsburg location, pinnacle of cafeteria slop that it is, and find out how it is really done.
As a side note, I recommend that you refrain from letting clients who behave like sex offenders sit directly next to the cash register while they wait for their catfish nachos. This will only lead to the sexual harassment of your upstanding clientele, and as I am one of only three persons who has returned to dine at San Loco after their first visit, I wouldn't piss me off. I find myself disappointed in you, not angry with you.
Weekend Douche Editor
Behold, the first part of a two part submission from one of our favorite contributors, Lil'Jimmy from Tenafly, New Jersey:
In high school and vacations during college, we always would party at my friend Ivan’s house. His dad’s a big-time doctor and they just have one of those awesome houses, not a mansion but four floors of bedrooms, huge TV’s and good times all around. And he’s got a huge beautiful backyard and pool.
Now it’s fall of our freshman year, probably October or November. By then the pool had closed although it had not yet been covered, so the water was a gross greenish color with lots of dirty leaves in it and shit.
My friend Ernie gets trashed while we’re all hanging out. He drinks 9 shots of 151. Ernie is 6,2, and even though he’s a big guy, he can be a serious pushover. Ivan and our other friend Vans are like predators, they’re always on the hunt for shit like this. They are football players and really love to just beat the shit out of each other. One time outside Ivan’s, Ivan put a Bic lighter on the inside of Vans ear and lit it! Vans went beserk and grabbed a rusty hedge clipper! Luckily he was so drunk the hedges immediately caught his attention and he just did some amateur work on Ivan’s hedges instead of murdering him.
Ernie drunkenly makes his way to the bathroom outside the kitchen and closes the door. The first thing Vans does is grab Ernie’s cell phone from the kitchen counter. He presses the dial button. “Hello?” he says? “Okay, hold on a sec.” He kicks open the bathroom door and says, “Hey Ernie, what are you doing?” He then holds the phone out for whoever is on the other line to hear Ernie’s response. Ernie drunkenly replies, at first amused “I’m takin a shit!” We all laugh at this, standing around the bathroom where our drunk friend is pooping. “But Ernie, don’t you realize you’re talking to Katy Blum, the girl you were in love with in high school?” We all stop for a moment and stare at Vans in horror before exploding in hysterical laughter. Ernie’s eyes go wide but then look resigned as he sighs out, “Aww phooey!”
Please send all submissions to email@example.com
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
It started with one spotting over in Williamsburg. Harvey's Mom and I were taking a morning after drinking constitutional and we saw the word "Dickchicken" spray painted across a wall. Of course, we thought this was hilarious, took a picture of it, blah blah blah. However, it would seem that there were more tags out there to be found by us and others. Next came the combination of the image of a penis with chicken appendages and the name "Dickchicken". Next, just the image, which arguably relays more of the message of questioning authority and thinking for oneself. Furthermore, this phenomenon had spread from just Williamsburg to the Lower East Side in Manhattan and the East Village.
The point I am trying to make with the paragraph above is that Dickchicken is slowly becoming the less talented and only slightly less marketable Banksy. There already are numerous flikr pages and websites devoted to this vulgar splendor, something that I thought no one knew about. With a little refinement and branching out, I am fairly sure fame could come easily. I mean, we all like graffitti artists right? Just bringing your attention the next ridiculous big thing. You're welcome.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
As all 6 of our readers may be familiar with, there has been some real peer pressure for Harvey's Mom to ride the mechanical bull at Mason Dixon. I am here to tell you that with liquid courage and your friends by your side, all ridiculous ambitions can be realized!!
Harvey's Mom rode that bull in a tube dress valiantly, using those leg muscles to stay on that bucking bronco for a pretty decent amnount of time. The whole thing was very Luke Perry in "8 Seconds", or so I remember it when I watched it one 5 in the morning drunk on Cinemax. Your humble narrator also rode that bull! However, after harassing prior riders for technique, it took me about 15 minutes to get on the damn thing. But, it took me 1 second to fall off.
There are pics from the event, and as soon as we are capable of learning photoshop to have an lol cat in the place of our face, we will bring them to you! For now, please enjoy the 8 Seconds trailer I have provided. It was fairly similiar.
Editor's Note: This morning I was having computer trouble and had to call the IT people. They went on my desktop and saw my pics that we post on the site. All at once I heard silence on the other side of the line, then uproarious laughter, then was asked " Why do you have so many pictures of Damn Yankees on your desktop?" Don't ever say I wasn't dedicated.
Monday, June 15, 2009
This week's sponsor is the 1980s movie "Monster Squad." Normally I would babble on and on about why it was picked, but I think the art of this film speaks for itself. Not to mention, that when I was 4 I wanted to BE in the Monster Squad, mostly for that 13 year old sexy rebel kid who is everything. Recently I watched this movie and have to be honest, that kid is still a piece!
Please leave your captions in the comments. The winner will be announced 6/19/09.
Got any pic suggestions for the caption contest? Send them to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Salvia trips, for your amusement: Gawker
Pete Doherty, the picture of class and sophistication: Dlisted
Blind Item! Which Real Housewife is also a Weekend Douche? (Maybe a better blind item would've been, which isn't?): CDAN
Ashlee Simpson, we didn't know you were one of us! Welcome to the club: Page Six
It seems like science is dead set on ruining your douchey behaviors: Jezebel
Any douche news catch your eye? Send the juice to email@example.com.
And the winner is...
"Excuse me, Miss, could you tell me where all the junior high girls hang out?"
Styxisthebomb, we loved your comment only slightly less than we loved your moniker. Well done! And, as always, thanks to everyone who submitted captions.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Until we found that a new Dallas BBQ has been opened on 8th Street in the East Village! Though already drunk, Harvey’s Mom, Nora and I just had to stop in, have a drink, and get a taste of the new watering hole. Well, let me tell you, it is exactly the same! We were greeted by one of our favorite servers at another of our haunts, who told us that BBQ now shares the same management. Be still our hearts! We savored the new and improved Texas size drinks, some macaroni and cheese, and some pulled pork while also almost getting into an altercation with several elderly butch lesbians. But that couldn’t get us down!
If you are in the area and feel like a cool down, or frankly, are in Phoenix and need a weekend away, your Editors are going to have to give two thumbs up, even though the food is shit and you will likely be seriously ill afterward! Tell them we sent you, they will have no idea who you mean until you mention the three creeps taking pictures of unknowing families inside, forcing them to call the authorities….
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
To add insult to injury, Mate broke into The Captain’s apartment with a metro-card ( dorm living, the high life), drank all his Svedka vodka, filled it with water and spit in it, putting it back into the freezer thinking none would be the wiser. Oh Mate, you goddamn fool, alcohol doesn’t freeze! Upon The Captain’s discovery of this alteration to his $10 vodka, he determined there was only one person in the pre-med program that could come close enough to suffering from autism to make this mistake: MATE!!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I wanted to fill you guys in on a few of the details that Burt left out of the Team Building Exercise 1999 essay. Firstly can I mention that our rental car was a PT Cruiser? Nothing but the best for your editors. As Nora and Harvey's Mom boozed it up in the back seat, I drove and Burt was my navigator. It turned out to be the foggiest day in New York in the last 62 years, making the driving a bit scary at times (by the way I have no evidence to substantiate that claim, but work with me, I'm trying to set the mood). When we finally arrived at the douche motel, we were ready to party, meaning have some Chinese food and watch tv.
In all honesty, the weekend turned out to be less about planning and strategies for the site, and more just straight up market research. We wanted to make sure we were fully in touch with our audience, so we tried to be the best weekend douches we could be ... and succeeded!
I'd like to point out the highlight of the weekend for me: the drunken Trivial Pursuit game. I decided we should have team names. Without missing a BEAT, Harvey's Mom suggested "The Baconators" for herself and Burt. Genius! I immediately felt intimidated, knowing I'd never be able to come up with anything to rival that level of wit, but soon suggested that Nora and I could be "Bebe's Kids," and so the epic battle began. We never actually finished the game, as there was barbecue to eat and a horrendous comedy special on television to watch, where we learned that our commenter "Dane Cook is the Worst Person in the World" is spot on with his/her moniker.
I also would like to point out the biggest regret of the weekend. While Burt was on the top bunk, yours truly was on the bottom bunk, and I MISSED the elegant dismount.
We rolled back into the city on Sunday afternoon, looking rough but feeling fine. We dropped off our rental car in Manhattan and headed back to Brooklyn with a sense of accomplishment and a renewed mission, to make this the best, most hilarious website on the internet. We will make it happen!!! Thanks for sticking with us so far, all 3 of you, we really appreciate it and will continue to try our best to bring the funny.
Two weekends ago, your editors went to South Hampton for a Weekend Douche Corporate Retreat. An aside point being that we are still negotiating the tax deductability of certain expenditures. The drive to the stay was somewhat clouded by the non-negotiability of the trifling bitch at Budget Rental who would not allow me to drive. Obviously the fates stepping in to help us avert certain disaster. Bob, instead, was our fearless navigator. Our other two editors sat in the backseat and swigged vodka. You expect this.
Once at our chateau le Douche, we engaged in numerous trust building exercises, immersed ourselves with new media power point presentations, and mostly engaged in around the clock binge drinking. ( I would like to point out that I slept on a top bunk, so you could imagine my surprise that I walked away without a broken ankle) There was even some drunk trivial pursuit played.
The point I am trying to make with this little recap is that we went out there for YOU, so that we could bring you top-notch quality content each and everyday, How very selfless of us to travel all the way to the Hamptons, a luxury beach town, in order to remove ourselves from the numerous distractions of our shainty apartments in Brooklyn, in order to better brainstorm for YOU. Pure loyalty. Though our desire to give you what you need is subtle, it will haunt your dreams.
F.Y.I Above the post are action pics. from our trip. That's me, doing a trust fall! And then there is all of us, performing a trust balance. Safety First! For an exclusive list of all team building exercises performed, please visit http://www.wilderdom.com/games/TrustActivities.html
Monday, June 8, 2009
The following drunken text was submitted by an anonymous reader located in Northern Jersey.
As a response to a friend's text asking about her night so far, our reader wrote:
" Did I tell you about the chicken parm hero I had from that place over there?"
So very random and hilarious. Thanks much!!! Please send any drunken texts received or sent to firstname.lastname@example.org
Normally the Weekend Douche weekly sponsor is chosen after a roundtable of our editors, but tonight I was struck by artistic inspiration also known as heart burn, which has rendered me incapable of sleep, so I figured I would do some light writing. In honor of our editor Harvey's Mom, who wil soon be embarking on a trip to Paris, as our first European correspondant, Chance Operations will be our sponsor. Chance Operations is very "Sprockets" from SNL, involving a word stated and then people flailing about. The whole thing seems very German.
Of particular note is that Harvey's Mom once performed a Chance Operations routine to Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out", the video of which I have still be unable to get a hold of. When it becomes available, best believe that shit will be our sponsor. FOREVER!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
This submission to Drunk Logic comes from Lynn in San Diego. We love some California Love!
Upon sitting in the backseat while drunk and hearing "More Than A Woman" by the Bee Gees come on, Lynn shouted to the frnt seat driver:
" You know, I don't really like the B.Js, but I really love this song!"
Lynn and friends, you guys are hilarous! ( said in Paul Rudd voice from "The 40 Year Old Virgin".
Please send any hilarious drunken musings to email@example.com
Editor's Note: A reader asked if I meant to originally make every word of the above post clickable, or if that was a mistake. I would like to say that Yes, I did intend it, since every word relating to the Bee Gees is of the above most importance. Smart Ass.
This week's Weekend Douche is Brought to you by Friendly's!!! If you don't like Friendly's, you also likely dislike America and baby Jesus. As you all know, this past weekend was the Weekend Douche Corporate Retreat in South Hampton. Particular details of the trip are to come, involving specifics about our team building exercises 2009 and trust games. I will take the time out to tell you that our final meal occured at Friendly's on location whose service was not actually that terrible, displacing the myth that all Friendly's waitresses will quit in the middle of waiting on you. ( this happened to me once, I was stuck there for 4 hours) I will also mention that no one partook in the dysentary breakfast bar, which was a major relief, since there was several incidents of people almost vomiting from hangovers.
Friday, May 29, 2009
We are still trying to decide on a Weekend Douche logo, but I'm thinking maybe a picture of Tom Sizemore might do it - Hollywood Rag
Janice Dickinson on Finland's Next Top Model - Socialite Life
I haven't seen the Real Housewives of New Jersey yet, but if this is the type of housewife they've got, I may have to check it out - Dlisted
Make sure you take the occasional day off from hitting the bottle - Sify News
Now where will you Upper West Siders get your hangover cure? - Gawker
Any douche news catch your eye this week? Send the juice to firstname.lastname@example.org.
And the winner is...
"Rosie didn't take it lying down when the Donald called her a vadge hound."
Congratulations Duckie, you have won this week's caption contest, along with the respect of the editors. Thanks to everyone who submitted captions!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
This is a friendly reminder that we will be announcing the winner of this week's caption contest on friday. I will be honest, when I read Duckie's comment I almost wet myself. Almost, simply because the catheter bag is fit pretty tight these days. Step up to the plate and give us something, we will love it! I leave you with the recipe for Pina Coladas. I refer you to the second ingredient which is NOT regular milk. Apparently only Pinas from Belize have real milk in them. Well, there and in the T.G.I.F on Route 17 in Woodridge, NJ. The jet setter I am, I was confused. Suck it lactose intolerance. Here I come Dallas BBQ!!!!
So last night your humble narrator attended the MoMA Party in the Garden, an event of all events. I know what you are thinking: how the hell did this hot mess get in and who the hell do I need to blow to get in next year? Well, you can just forget me inviting you next year to both the party and the after-party, which will be held at The Patriot in downtown Manhattan. Or, that is where I am having my party in the garden if you know what I am saying saying.
Anyhow, Uncle Jesse Katsopolis, our resident Greek Adonis, was at it again. This time he double fisted pomegranate martinis (Uncle Jesse doesn’t drink the cheap shit. EVER. It is only Andre champagne for this epitome of sophistication and elegance.) all night awaiting the performance of Estelle. After going outside to get my annoying, constantly late friend, I made my way to the front of the stage where Uncle Jesse was. It was at this point I heard “HEY GRRRL!!!” yelled at me and watched as Uncle Jesse hoisted himself on to a piece of stage apparatus and begun to hang off a pole. Meanwhile, his pomegranate martini sprayed the crowd. Disgusted by his movements being minimized by this glass, Uncle Jesse threw the glass on the ground, shattering it into pieces, likely injuring several people.
As he collapsed from the self-made sex podium, he attempted to dance up on a girl in the crowd who looked like she was about to cut his ass. It was at this point that Uncle Jesse was made to leave. Seven people strong, we carried the Greek’s drunken ass outside, where he refused to go home, lit a cigarette and attempted to go back into the MoMA. Oh, Uncle Jesse. You can be a drunk-ass bitch, but NO ONE smokes in the MoMA. It was at this point that security was called to restrain the Greek in his corner until a cab was stopped and he was loaded in and sent back to Jersey.
Don't all really amazingly trashy nights involve someone being sent back to Jersey?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
"One Day at a Time" also features one of the all-time best TV theme songs. I know all your asses are dragging after a three-day weekend of hard living, so consider this my gift to you, to help get you moving:
Please leave your caption suggestions in the comments. The winner will be announced 5/29/09.
Got any pic suggestions? Send them to us at email@example.com.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Tara Reid, enough said - Dlisted
I suspect this woman is a Weekend Douche - NY Daily News
Cigarettes, coffee, and alcohol ... a balanced diet? - Gawker
A documentary is being made about Amy Winehouse. I'm terrified - People
Bahrain lawmakers are trying to limit Weekend Douchedom - FOX News
Any douche news catch your eye this week? Send the juice to firstname.lastname@example.org.
And the winner is...
"After my paraplegic boyfriend has a few drinks, he makes me call him DJ Jazzy Jeff."
Congratulations to The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You, and thanks to everyone who submitted captions. In honor of just how much I love that moniker, please take the time to enjoy this video. You're welcome guys!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
This is a friendly reminder that tomorrow we will be announcing the winner of our weekly caption contest. Upon a quick scan of the competition, I think it would only be fair of me to mention that you should all gun for Fanny Pack. Weekend at Bernie's isn't bringing the heat this week, so you could be an overnight celebrity with the upset!! Polls close tomorrow morning, show us what you got.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
This past Saturday marked the 54th annual Eurovision song competition, this year's pageant taking place in Moscow. Each nation puts forward a contestant or group to sing and dance their way to patriotic glory, and the entries are generally, to put it mildly, ridiculous.
It's a European tradition to celebrate Eurovision by hosting parties and drinking heavily, and we received the following submission from Dr. Dolly in Glasgow, Scotland, UK:
"My eurovision party was excellent. I drank too many ouzo shots and passed out at midnight after throwing up in a bucket. I was also wearing the flags of europe on my head and accross my breasts. The next morning i found my greek office mate in his underwear in my kitchen. Apparently after my midnight exit he and my flatmate did the nasty....bet ur sorry u missed it."
Thanks Dr. Dolly! You are our first international submission. It is a big, drunk world out there. International douches, send us your stories! America needs to know how you roll!
For those of you who just need to know more about Eurovision, check out my alter ego, Katie Price's, entry into the British Eurovision semifinals in 2005. To answer your questions, yes, she is wearing a Barbie pink PVC catsuit and yes, she is pregnant.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
This pic. is a submission from a reader who saw this piece of class in a bathroom in the East Village in NYC. The thing I like most about this little bathroom statement is the sense of fairness. It is saying "Hey act like a douche, pay for it douche!" Thanks for the submission!
Please send all submissions to email@example.com. Eye on the prize, one year anniversary party at Chevy's in Times Square!!!!
I think our readers are well aware of my ill-advised love for San Loco, and the fact that every time we go at 3am LGMBB has to talk me out of getting a round of sangria for everyone in the house. Turns out they are now offering breakfast and brunch. Man, I could really go for the chorizo quesadilla right about now...
Anyway, I snapped this very high quality photo of their breakfast menu, also known as your morning invitation to bulimia. I'm pretty sure that the dish "Hot Mess" is named after me. I feel like I heard the cashier say it once or twice when I was holding onto the counter for dear life waiting for my burrito loco.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Connery: I'll take the rapists for $200.
Trebek: That's "therapists" Mr. Connery.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The following text conversation was submitted to us by Jen B. of Clinton Hill, Brooklyn:
"I just drank fiive margaritas, wana come over and watch a movie?"
"Sounds great, ill bring junior mints"
Hope you guys enjoyed the movie, and thanks for the submission!
Sure George, it was the guy next to you - Gatecrasher
If you're a Weekend Douche and also an asshole, this might be a good place to go to college - Gawker
Janice Dickinson drunkenly attacks a cameraman - Dlisted
A competition that seems to be specifically designed for Weekend Douches - Jezebel
I want to go to there - Dlisted
It's just Lindsay being Lindsay - Perez Hilton
Any douche news catch your eye this week? Send the juice to firstname.lastname@example.org.
And the winner is ...
"Where'd they learn to do that?"
"I don't know. Kids are doing it in their basements back home. Wanna try it?"
I Carried a Watermelon, you are a genius. Congratulations to you, and thanks to everyone who submitted captions.
For anyone who doesn't understand the reference, head on over to You Tube and enjoy this clip:
Dirty Dancing - Staff Party
Thursday, May 14, 2009
This is a Christmas Story, late-90s style. My mom's husband got shitfaced off her famous Christmas Pina Coladas (for whatever reason, she only makes this frozen delight on December 25th and no other day of the year). He went to take some garbage out, which was kind of a far walk, and left without his shoes on. He walked the entire way through the snow just in his socks. I howled with glee. The funniest part was that he still didn't realize it when he got back, even though his socks were soaked with snow and dirt, and could not understand what I was laughing about. This may seem minor, but to this stepchild, it was a Christmas miracle.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
About two years ago, I was out drinking one night with one of my more alcohol interested friends waiting for one of my co-workers to meet up with us. While waiting, my friend had consumed a huge amount of alcohol. After my co-worker texted he was around the corner, I decided to let my friend know that this person did not drink, to which my friend responded "John Wayne said not to trust people who don't drink. I may not be John Wayne since I am Asian, but I am with him."