![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offbalanceLast night, at karaoke, I had the pleasure of meeting the Crown Prince of the Douchebags. No, really. All other douches should bow down before this one.
It wasn't any one specific thing that won him this auspicious honor; it was a combination of factors. It wasn't just that he sang several Prince songs (he also did Neil Diamond's "Crackling Rose," which I happen to really like). It wasn't just that he told me that he was at Karaoke on a regular basis because he worked next door. It wasn't that he was flirting with anything that had a cooter in the most obvious way, including a trainwreck of a girl celebrating her birthday at the bar, and was an entire bedding department to the wind. (He sang an irony-free duet of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" with her early in the evening.) It wasn't even him showing off his "Hay I took swing dancing lessons to impress the femalz, dig my sweet stepz!" moves in the most obvious fashion. With any girl he could grab that was willing (but not me). I managed to avoid his attempts at being a latter-day Johnny Castle, thankfully.
It was all of these factors, and the fact that he thought it made him THE COOLEST GUY IN THE WORLD. Really. He thought he was sex on legs. And while he wasn't hideous looking (he was actually sort of on the cute side). He was so obvious, and yet so clueless at the same time. It was fabulously entertaining. While I may not always be happy being single, at least I am not that guy. Or even worse, dating that guy.
(He would probably own this cologne, if they made it for real. He kind of looks at the guy at the end, the one who says: "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?" )
And now to work. But that was something that needed to be shared, and preserved for posterity. And perpetual amusement.
It wasn't any one specific thing that won him this auspicious honor; it was a combination of factors. It wasn't just that he sang several Prince songs (he also did Neil Diamond's "Crackling Rose," which I happen to really like). It wasn't just that he told me that he was at Karaoke on a regular basis because he worked next door. It wasn't that he was flirting with anything that had a cooter in the most obvious way, including a trainwreck of a girl celebrating her birthday at the bar, and was an entire bedding department to the wind. (He sang an irony-free duet of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" with her early in the evening.) It wasn't even him showing off his "Hay I took swing dancing lessons to impress the femalz, dig my sweet stepz!" moves in the most obvious fashion. With any girl he could grab that was willing (but not me). I managed to avoid his attempts at being a latter-day Johnny Castle, thankfully.
It was all of these factors, and the fact that he thought it made him THE COOLEST GUY IN THE WORLD. Really. He thought he was sex on legs. And while he wasn't hideous looking (he was actually sort of on the cute side). He was so obvious, and yet so clueless at the same time. It was fabulously entertaining. While I may not always be happy being single, at least I am not that guy. Or even worse, dating that guy.
(He would probably own this cologne, if they made it for real. He kind of looks at the guy at the end, the one who says: "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?" )
And now to work. But that was something that needed to be shared, and preserved for posterity. And perpetual amusement.
