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Douchebags in the Follow-Up Blog Item

I have so thoroughly enjoyed the barrage of mail and comments received about my $30,000 millionaire expose in last week's paper version of Unfair Park. Even (or especially) the part when a guy wrote in calling me a "jaded, man-hating cunt." I just wish he hadn't held back, you know?...
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I have so thoroughly enjoyed the barrage of mail and comments received about my $30,000 millionaire expose in last week's paper version of Unfair Park. Even (or especially) the part when a guy wrote in calling me a "jaded, man-hating cunt." I just wish he hadn't held back, you know? Oh, well. I needed a catchy name for my next blog, anyway.

The best part was hearing the first-person accounts of homo sapiens douchebagus interactions from across North Texas. You, brave readers, are to be commended for your courage and valor in dealing with douchebagus, who, as we all know, can be a difficult creature. But in reading these letters, I have gained a fair amount of sympathy (or maybe, empathy) for the $30k millionaire, which perhaps I didn't express enough of in the article. Are we not all victims of a consumeristic, materialistic society of judgmental pricks, striving to cover ourselves in whatever pre-packaged façade we find most appealing? If anybody wants to write 5,000 words on narcissistic functional alcoholic wannabe-hipster writers with inferiority complexes who still haven't gotten over the fact that they weren't even C-list popular in high school, I can totally hook you up with a good lead.

Nevertheless, I've hand-picked a few of the very best first-person accounts to post here that we may all further our education with regard to douchebagus. Knowledge is power, people.

Let's blow our load right up top with a letter from Eric in Dallas. Eric sent in this gem about his (good?) friend: "He is a real-life, text-book example of a $30,000 millionaire. Upon graduation from college, my friend moved to Dallas but was essentially unemployed for the better part of a year. He now has a job cold-calling unfortunate individuals who are about to default on their home mortgages and trying to get them to refinance. I do not know his exact salary but I estimate it is in the low $30s."

Eric's friend then "bought a $3,000 home-theater system that takes up most of the square footage in his small living room." As for nightlife, "He enjoys going out on weeknights, always dressed in designer jeans, shiny leather loafers, with a sports coat over a form-fitting t-shirt. He wears copious amounts of gel in his hair. His pride and joy is his 2008 GMC Yukon (leased), topped off with 22 inch rims." Eric was once told by his friend, "'Only 2 other people in Dallas have these rims, Tony Romo and one of the Dallas Stars”

But, according to Eric, "what really makes this guy a true $30K millionaire is the fact that he doesn’t know he is a $30K millionaire. He honestly thinks this is just how people live, from pay check to pay check, with no money in the bank, just paying the minimum every month on his credit cards. His goal is, of course, to have sex with women, preferably attractive ones." Unfortunately for Eric's friend, it seems "the market is flooded with $30K millionaires … he was depressed on account that he hadn’t been laid in 3 months. That was over 2 months ago and as far as I know, the dry spell continues."

Another of our faithful readers supervises a douchebagus in the workplace: "I have one that works for me that somehow was able to buy a 1000 square-foot townhouse [in Uptown.] Price tag: $325,000 American dollars. Salary: $48,000. He doesn't have any furniture."

And, a true treat from John in Dallas, regarding the sighting of female homo sapiens douchebagus: "I was having dinner at the bar in Primo's when this girl flashing her iPhone like a diamond asked about the George Saunders book I was reading. After I described a bit about it, she asked me what 'products' it made me want to buy. As you can imagine, this was about the most nonsensical comment I'd ever heard directed toward an innocent book of essays in my life. She then asked what time I had to work in the morning, and when I said, '8am,' you might have thought I told her I shop at Walmart or something."

A gentleman named Gabe had a case of mistaken BMW-identity with a douchebagus: "The other night leaving Mantus, at the valet stand, I encountered one of them. My car was brought up, and this budding 30K MM, grabbed his silicone breasted gold digga gf and made a beeline towards my car. I was pretty certain it was my car but he looked so confident walking towards it; I thought maybe I could of been mistaken. He got to my car and looked in and made a disgusted look on his face. t was one of those looks that you get when someone mentions your parents in the act of your conception. I said 'Is this your car or mine?'/ The 30K MM looked at me like I had said something blasphemous and replied, 'Nah, you kidding bro...mine has the Navi.'"

I heard from more than one letter writer about an apartment complex called Austin Ranch in the Colony. Reader Andrew calls Austin Ranch "a nest" for douchebagus and writes, "I used to live there. No joke, there was a guy renting above me (couldn't be paying more than $700 per month) that had two, brand-new cars: a BMW 745i and a Mercedes CLS 550. But, it gets even better: 1) he washed his cars himself, 2) he purchased two extra parking spaces in the garage to ensure his cars' safety, and 3) he parked his cars in the garage like they were on display at a car show."

Andrew had another encounter, "even better than that guy." His story: "The day I moved out, I ran into a $30K millionaire (frosted tips, white pants and sweater, big tinted shades) sitting on a curb outside the UPS store at The Ranch waiting for a cab. He asked for my help. His story was touching: he told me he had spent $500 at Dragonfly the night before on an Austin Ranch 'hottie' and was car-less to get home. He offered me $30 (lest he take a cab) to take him back to, get this, the Budget Inn on I-35. In typical douchebag fashion, he blamed his dire straits on 'the things hot chicks make you do, you know?' I said I don't. Then I got in my Acura TSX, drove away, and never felt so rich."

I would also be doing readers a disservice if I didn't point them in the direction of the scandalous DirtyBigD.com, an entire Web site dedicated to doing the kind of work I embarked on for "Douchebags in the Mist." But this is Douchebags On Your Computer Screen.

Do continue to send in your tips, insults and personal accounts. --Andrea Grimes

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