douche
June 1st, 2007 |I’m waiting for a friend at a wine bar and I see that the guy a couple of stools down from me keeps ostentatiously checking the late-model smartphone that lies before him on the granite countertop. He has the all-black Samsung BlackJack, which happens to be the coolest-looking smartphone there is—at least until the iPhone comes out—and he’s wearing jeans that look like they cost $400, and his haircut was probably half that. I also notice that he’s got an expensive- looking European leather briefcase at his feet that he no doubt calls an attaché.
I’m thinking, what a douchebag.
And then I think, wait a second. I’m here, at this wine bar, just as he is. And frankly, when the iPhone does come out, I intend to get it (even though it’s slated to cost more than $500) to replace the Treo I’m currently carrying. (Also: I really should check my e-mail right now.) And I’m due for a (quasi-expensive) haircut, in fact. And where’s the freaking bartender already? And . . . and . . . and . . . am I a douchebag? I have met the enemy, and he is . . . me?
I don’t wear $400 jeans, I get a $20 haircut and I ain’t buying no lame iPhone.
As far as I am concerned, anyone who ponies up for an iPhone qualifies for douchebag status on the spot. The phone should come with a little wallet card proving membership in the doucheoisie.
