How to enter the "Douchebag of the Week" contest..

Here's a repost of Douchebag posting from Crackspace..just in case you were wondering..

Douchebags and Batteries
Current mood: aggravated

So I did a really asshole thing tonight. But I am nothing, if not an asshole somedays. Who could blame me? I was tired, cold, and wet and just trying to make my way home along the corridor of sin that is Ponce de Leon Avenue. Out of the blue I see this guy crossing the street. Now I know that it is not unusual to see someone crossing the street at ten thirty at night, but it was pouring rain and he wasn't crossing at the crosswalk. Some of you know that this is a pet peeve of mine. And he was crossing diagonally. Dressed head to toe in solid black. And he was doing THE ASSHOLE STROLL. You know what I'm talking about. The slow meandering across a busy roadway, paying no attention to oncoming traffic, that entitled walk that says "Hey motherfuckers! Your ass BETTER stop for me." Well, it was pouring rain (as it often does in Atlanta this time of year, or any time of year for that matter...), and just as he got to the south side of the street, I managed to hit a HUGE puddle of filth infested rainwater at about 45 miles an hour (about 15 miles an hour faster than I should have been going, but I did it on purpose, cause like I said, I was tired, cold and wet and those things make me cranky), thus splashing a wall of serious wetness on said pedestrian. If he thought he was wet before, he was definitely wet then. He stopped in his tracks to shout some obscenities to me, something along the lines of "dumbass white bitch..." but I just turned up "Catapult" by R.E.M. like a good little aging rock snob and made my way on to the liquor store, because, after all, tomorrow IS Sunday and we wouldn't want to get caught with our pants down, now would we? I feel better already....

At first, I thought Slow-ass Ponce crosser would win this week's Douchebag Of The Week award, but since he's now all wet and I've had some time to ponder, I realize that the coveted Golden Douchebag should go to Mr. Burgundy Nissan Altima In The Three Dollar Lot At 15th and West Peachtree. This fuckstick came about six inches from crushing me to a pulp trying to park his Japanese piece of crap in the pouring rain, thus backing me into a corner between him, an avocado green BMW, and a brick wall, all in the pouring rain. So concrapulations, Mr. Burgandy Nissan. You win the Golden Douchebag. Hopefully, next week, some equally dumbass ATLien will outdo you...

In light of Mr. Leisure Stroller and Mr. Burgandy Nissan, I'm starting a contest here at Holly's World O' Blogorama. Douchebag of the Week. Send me your nominations for said award, I'll see if they beat the idiotic encounters I have in my day to day life, and I shall confer upon the winner a shining Massingill Moment. Hell, nominate yourself if you feel like you deserve it! I'm sure that I've had that effect on people before. There really are no prizes, just the satisfaction of knowing that you've blown the whistle on a complete idiot and had it posted to Teh Interwebs (which is really just a big system of tubes...).

So after putting up with all of that, making my usual Saturday night visit to Greene's Liquor Store on Ponce (complete with its full company of weirdos and freaks..) I finally made it home to the squat, determined to make up a decent drink, listen to a little Wilco (cause that's just how I'm rollin') and mop my filthy kitchen floor with my new Swiffer WetJet. I bought it last night on a whim in Kroger, but didn't feel like putting it together since I'd spent the previous 12 hours listening to the Little Prince shout "Hold, Please!" into the God mic that it is my job to provide for him everyday. Upon opening the box of my new floor cleaning device and assembling it without reading the owner's manual (owner's manuals are for pussies, and I'm CERTAINLY not a pussy, plus it's really just a glorified mop...) I discovered that it needed four AA batteries to "squirt". Now usually AA batteries are not a problem for me. In fact, at work I'm known as the battery pimp, shouting from the rafters "For the love of the Baby Jesus and all that is Holy and Sacred, will SOMEBODY take these damn AA batteries!" It's illegal to throw them in the trash, you know. Plus it's wasteful. Well, I guess I'm simply a victim of my own success, because I realized that I could not lay hands on four AA batteries. I thought "Surely I have SOMETHING that takes batteries around here? I realized I did, so I went to an undisclosed location (and no, Dick Cheney was NOT there) and retrieved said batteries. I'm not sure how much voltage is left in them. Probably not much. Now that I've got a sparkling clean kitchen floor, had a few drinks, and can't seem to connect to Teh Interwebs (that series of big tubes) due to the fact that I steal my internet connection, I'm gonna want those batteries back.