Friday, April 10, 2009

You Got It, Douche!


This particular bit of weekend douche happened to a friend of mine a couple of years back. Let's call him Uncle Jesse Katsopolis. He was at a birthday party at the 40/40 Club on W. 25th. As was his custom, he got tanked and proceeded to get rowdy, Greek-dancing somewhat violently on any and every table in his line of view. Well, the bouncer was having none of it and kicked his ass to the curb. Unbelievably, the valiant attempts made by a few of his friends to slip a couple of Washingtons to the bouncer to get him back in were ineffective, and he went on his way. At this point he called me, sobbing hysterically, saying he had never felt so ashamed and so alone. He asked if we could meet up, and though I was happily at home, playing Snood in my pajamas, I agreed to meet him on the corner of 13th and 5th. Well, this was only 12 blocks away from the 40/40 Club, so after standing around like a dickhead for 15 minutes, I called him to see where he was. The dialogue went as follows:

Me: Hey, where are you?
Uncle Jesse: I'll tell you when I get to the corner. Umm, 34th and 5th.
Me: You fucking idiot, you're walking the wrong way, turn around and walk in the other direction.
Uncle Jesse: Ok. I love you. You're really a good friend. No one really cares about me.
Incoherent sobbing for another 5 minutes straight.
Me: Ok, where are you now?
Uncle Jesse: Uhh, 39th and 5th.
Me: YOU TWIT. Stop walking. Do an about face. Walk in the other direction.
2 minutes pass.
Me: Where are you?
Uncle Jesse: 41st and 5th.
Me: Listen, at this rate you'll be in fucking Central Park soon and then we'll never find you. Get in a cab and just tell the driver 13th and 5th.
Uncle Jesse hails cab, gets in, gives address, sobs.
Uncle Jesse: Wait...wait a minute. WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME? YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY. WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING ON DOING TO ME?
Uncle Jesse’s cab pulls up to the corner where I'm waiting within seconds.

At this point, he dragged me to get pizza at his favorite place on 14th and 2nd Ave, then to University Place and Waverly, because he wanted to eat the pizza along with a special turkey sandwich with a particular kind of honey mustard he could only get at one deli. Then I dutifully walked him back to his dorm, where he passed out, leaving the pizza and sandwich uneaten on the floor by his bed. Weekend douche, out.

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