Inspired by Jeremy’s post on D-Bags, we have decided to add another element to our blog. Welcome to the SHE SAID: D-Bag Page, where Nifer will be posting whenever she encounters someone worthy enough of being classified a D-Bag. These posts, unlike our main page which is a call and response type posting routine, will be sporadic, random, and probably incensed. Enjoy.


a douchebag (or two) sells out

I’ve already posted on my love of holiday music, but what I love even more is the holiday advertising.  What’s more miserable than seeing Kohl’s Christmas ads before Thanksgiving?  Oh, I don’t know, maybe three Kays, Jared’s and Zales ads back to back during a football game.  Football.  The ads should be for erectile dysfunction, instant nachos and chair massages.

But this year, what I found most disturbing, was the amount of good musicians that totally sold out to not only advertising, but holiday advertising.  Maybe I should be pissed at the advertisers, because they are trying to manipulate us even further by using popular music, but I’m going to blame the artists here.  Because I expect advertisers to be corrupt, and I expect musicians to know better.

Example 1.

“Holiday” Vampire Weekend (this is being used in at least two ads that I know of.  Please let me know if there are more.)

Vampire Weekend writing songs that have turned into jungles is akin to meeting up with the hot, intelligent guy I dated in high school who is now balding, 50 lbs heavier, selling used cars and running a strip club at night.

Example 2.

“Up on The Housetop”, “Jingle bells”, “Deck The Halls” Pomplamoose

I get that you are a youtube sensation.  I love that you have never recorded an album and that your videos are recorded in one of your bedrooms with blankets for sound dampening.  I understand that you make your money selling your songs … and maybe I would have been okay with you selling your song to Hyundai.  But I’m not okay with you starring in the ad, and at one point donning Hyundai sweatshirts in the ad.  I draw the line there.

Example 3.

“Girl is on My Mind” The Black Keys

This brings me back to my first point.  Because I’ll tell you what’s more miserable than Khols Christmas ads before Thanksgiving.  Worse than the cheesy diamond/proposal ads that run during the holiday season.  Even worse than seeing three jewelry ads in a row.  It’s seeing a Zales ad come on and then realizing that the music is by one of my favorite bands.  So many levels of awfulness.  It makes me sick to post this, but it’s for a point.

Black Keys, you have let me down.


peer pressure d-baggery
My son and I were in a store that was selling incredibly cheap digital watches at the counter and he picked out the hot pink one.  There were blue, green and yellow options as well, but the little man wanted pink and while I did double check with him about that selection, I honored his choice.  He was thrilled with the watch all afternoon and evening.  I was getting updates on the time almost down to the minute (sometimes he would forget to check and alert me within 60 seconds).  This morning, it was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and he couldn’t wait to bring it to school to show at show & tell.  When we walked into school, two of his buddies said, “Ew.  A pink watch?!”  I watched as his face fell and his chin crept down to his chest – his prize possession now critiqued by his peers.  I suspected that this would happen and I know it will continue to happen, as it did to me, all my friends, and most people I know at some point.  And maybe I should have stuck with stereotypical boy-ness and convinced him to get the green or blue watch.  But his little face lit up when he saw that pink watch, and I love that he chose something different.  I love that he wasn’t afraid to go with pink.  I supported that.  Before I left I gave him a little pep talk about how awesome his watch is, reminded him how awesome he thought it was when we got it, told him how awesome he is, and how being different is great … but I’m not so sure how that is going to hold up throughout the remainder of his school day.  And I wish I could be there to whisper in his ear throughout the day, “you are so special and going with the less popular choice is so courageous.”  But something tells me he would get subjected to more peer pressure d-baggery if I were there by his side holding his hand and whispering in his ear all day.  Got to give the man some space and hope that all the support he’s received in the 2,030 days of his life leading up to this one will help carry him through and give him the courage to wear that hot pink digital watch with pride and forgo cowering to the pressure of his little, but powerful, group of three and a half feet tall peers.


searching for d-bags
I will be the first to admit that my google search history has, at times, been sketchy.  Right now the top three items are “foxwoods”, “throw up on a mattress”, and “cleaning a mattress”.  Someone looking at that could conclude that I am an alcoholic gambler.  However, you d-bags finding our blog put me to shame.  Today’s top searches are “walk of shame”, “fat women on beach”, “picture of a guy bathing”, “walk of shame photos”, and “two backed beast”.  We humans are a sketchy, d-baggish lot.


Theifton d-bag
My son is learning how to swim. Poor guy hates the water. Looks about as comfortable as a drag queen attending a Midwestern Christian prayer circle when anywhere near body of water. You name it, I’ve tried it. He just doesn’t like to swim or even immerse himself in water. Until the goggles. They are amazing and since they rarely get water in them, he loves them. Looks anything but suave while donning them, but as long as he’s happy, I don’t care.
So to whomever grabbed them yesterday from the side of the pool … you d-bag. Because you knew damn well they weren’t yours. My poor little man is lost without them.


Fed-Ex, when you can’t ship to someone’s PO box, it’s a good idea to let them know they should provide another address. When you don’t have a physical address, YOU might want to use the provided phone number or contact info. What is not a good idea is to search for the physical address using the wrong zip code and then leave the package at the wrong address without double checking the zip code or getting a signature for the package. When called and given the correct address, however, you managed to screw it up and yet another redelivery was required.


d-bag, STFU
Once I retired from my not so illustrious athletic pursuits and got marginally involved with sports for fun (starting with IM soccer in my late college years) I had to learn how to channel competitiveness and sport. Sometimes it worked well. Sometimes it didn’t and I had to sit out a 10 minute penalty for unnecessary roughness. I like to think I’m beyond that now … although I would appreciate hearing thoughts on how much time needs to pass for me to be beyond something. Since then, I have played on many teams for “fun” and while the level of fun being had is always debatable, there is always at least one d-bag who feels the need to take on the burden of coaching the entire team. Usually uninvited. And to those d-bags, the ones yelling from the bench or the dugout or the sidelines: please STFU. Yes, we are competing. But no, this is not in front of professional scouts and most of us are mainly thinking how badly we want to muzzle you.


perhaps the ultimate d-bag
Roy Ashburn, responsible for leading the anti-gay crusade in California for the past 15 years, got a DUI last week while on his way home from a gay club with an unidentified young man in his passenger seat. Congratulations for one-upping the previous record for ultimate douche. Truly upsetting in so many ways.


d-bags can be foreign
Oh dear lord you stinking, fanny pack wearing, Caribbean vacation braid donning Euro. Your B.O. and general ease with violating my personal space throughout the flight didn’t bother me. Nor did I freak out when you rested your head on my shoulder while you napped. But, please please please BRUSH YOUR TEETH. For an hour your breath festered under my nose and make me come close to vomiting. Subjecting someone to that is just beyond douchebaggish.


a d-bag haunts an express lane
I admit it. I’ll be the first to admit it. I had more than 10 items. It’s not that I was trying to screw with anyone, the store was crowded and, not being familiar with it, I didn’t know I was in an express lane and didn’t see the sign until the cashier was already ringing me up. Upon realizing this, I immediately apologized to the person behind me, who shrugged it off and couldn’t have been cooler. And then you sauntered up and counted my items out loud. All 15 of them. And then pointed out to all around that I have violated the first law of grocery store check out procedure by 5 items. And then spent the remainder of my check out time making little snide comments about me slowing everyone down. Really? Really?! REALLY!?!?!?! If it’s that easy to make you that upset, I pity those who spend a large amount of time around you on a regular basis. Oh, and anyone else who has to spend time with you.


a whole list of d-bags
Compiled by someone else, but I had to support someone so dedicated to the task: check it out here. The 50 most loathsome Americans of 2009 – Tiger barely made it.


d-bag driver
I was running. You were driving. You know who you are.
Just for the record, I did not have a target painted on my chest and yes, I was there, it was not an illusion, that runner on the road. I was on the side, almost in the snowdrifts.
It was a straightaway … I get driving cautiously and not giving those recreating on the roads a ton of space when there is a turn involved. But, it was a straightaway, so I don’t see the need to buzz me. It’s not like you get extra points for allowing the least amount of space between your metal craft and my crushable arms and legs.
Although you did provide me with entertainment for the remaining miles (the little zingers I prepared for you in my mind kept me laughing and spirited) our short interaction still seemed gratuitous and unnecessary.
I have only this to say: share the road.


Wood and d-bags
Dear Wood Guy, Since you didn’t deliver my wood on the day we discussed, I was unable to be here for the delivery. I am less than impressed with the “wood” you left at my house. I think the check I left you would have kept me warmer these past few weeks had I burned that because it is dry and lights on fire. That’s key, Mr. Wood Delivery Man, in getting and keeping a fire going. Wet, rotted wood is not keeping me warm and trying to even get it lit is an exercise in frustration. I distinctly remember you telling me over the phone what amazing wood you were going to leave me and how freaking dry it was/is. I beg to disagree, sir.


D-bagged by Vermin
We caught two mice with glue traps, but I know there are more. They taunt us. At night, we hear them scuffling around in the walls as we lay in bed trying to sleep, safe from the flashlights and sudden raids we have attempted. They seem to be growing in size since now it sounds like large animals occupying the walls. We have four glue traps and two snap traps out, laying in wait where we believe the mice must travel most and yet still they evade us. Perhaps those noises are coming from squirrels or rats or the neighbor’s cat has decided to take up residency in our walls. Who knows. They certainly seem to have figured out the traps aren’t the place to be hanging out.


Barfly d-bag

I’m so sorry your father suffered from dementia. But I don’t know you and you’re talking about it to such great lengths is uncomfortable. Also, your friend’s comment about fucking the apple and eating the core was just weird. I didn’t really know how I was supposed to respond to that and I don’t quite understand why that was the only thing he said to me. I hope you’ll understand me moving on to talk to someone else.


Service fit for a d-bag

When a table you’re waiting on is seated for two hours after ordering because you forgot to put their dinner order in, you might want to check in and let them order another round of drinks. You know. Because they are sitting their twiddling their thumbs and I don’t care how awesome someone’s family is … two hours is a long time to sit around talking without an a water refill or something to nibble on. I would have preferred another Dark & Stormy or three.


Earth Ruining d-bag

It’s 2:30 pm in Vermont, one of the most progressive and least integrated states in the nation. I pull up next to a gold, limited edition SUV with music blaring and no one in the running vehicle. Go in to purchase my wares and a browse for 10 – 15 minutes with another customer alongside me the entire time. After purchasing her wine, the woman goes into her running vehicle (the one referenced above) and proceeds to drive across the freaking street, park, and get out of the car with her wine.

If you’re going to leave you’re car running for 15 minutes, I have an issue with that, environmentally. But feeling the need to use your car for an errand across the street goes beyond silly and becomes douchebagish.


Road RAGEr

To the Ford F150 driving d-bag this morning. Thanks for scaring the living daylights out of me for no apparent reason. Perhaps someone else upset you, I still see no need to take it out on me or my car. Maybe you didn’t see me when you tried to run me off the road. Maybe you didn’t see me when I was ahead of you and that is why you were an inch and a half off my rear bumper. I’m trying to understand your behavior. I felt that maybe by slamming on my brakes and thus setting off my brake lights you would see me. Unfortunately, this seems to have angered you even more. Thank you for making me shake during my morning commute. Also, taking that many pictures of me was a little bizarre.


Conversation Texter

Ahhhh, if you wanted to have a conversation … CALL. It’s annoying to have to text novellas back and forth.


Lackluster Store Owner d-bag

When you own a store and there are a few people inside browsing your merchandise, might be a good idea to be inside at the counter, at the very least, in case someone is struck by the urge to buy something. Standing outside talking to your friend loudly on your cellie and throwing scattered swears into your conversation isn’t the best way to drum up business.


D-bag releasing Unexpected Anger

Ever have an experience where someone you don’t know flips out on your for a seemingly innocuous reason? The degrees can vary, but the times when something unideal happens that’s not great, but nowhere near a terrible tragedy and the stranger unleashes this stream of profanity or hatred directed at you that can only stem from something else in their life that they are less able to direct their anger at? I’m pretty sure it’s happened to most everyone at some point in time and it’s tough to deal with mostly because it’s so unexpected due to both the event causing it and the fact that it’s someone you don’t know. I’m not a big fan of those d-bags.


Debbie Downer d-bag

When someone you know is planning on doing something and is pretty pumped about it … don’t be in such a rush to point out all the things that could go wrong or why said person will have challenges reaching their goal and shouldn’t try for it.


Incompetent Barista d-bag

Having worked for a summer as an ice cream scooper at TCBY (it’s not, by the way), I have an idea of how much a counter job sucks. When my boss informed me he liked it when I wore shorts, I invested in a few pair of baggy sweatpants and cranked the AC for the summer. I digress …
I went to get a bagel and a cup of coffee before hitting up the DMV on Tuesday. The barista was having a thrilling conversation with an admittedly adorable two and a half year old boy for about 5 minutes while I waited to place my order and pay. My patience tested, I ordered and extended my money only to hear her say, “oh wait, I just have to go play with him for a second.” No. No you don’t have to go play with him. You just displayed your talent for speaking baby talk for 5 minutes. But I do need coffee.
To top it all off, once her co-worker came over to pick up her slack, none of the coffee urns were full and it was a 10 minute wait for any strong blend, necessary when you’re drinking Green Mountain Coffee.
Damn it, do your job at least mildly passably. Or at the very least, try not to advertise your ineptitude as willingly.


A d-bag is a d-bag is a d-bag is a d-bag

In case you’re perusing colleges and want to either avoid d-bags or locate them, GQ has compiled a thorough list of the 25 douchiest colleges. Worth a laugh and provides some insight on the many variations of d-bags.


Kanye, you douchebag

Really? Are you that intent on becoming a parody of yourself? You seem to jump at any attempt to publicly ridicule yourself with diatribes slightly more coherent than a Courtney Love blog update, but ten times as violently charged and usually damning to a second or third party. Is Taylor Swift a corporate created cookie cutter? Of course. And yes, the VMA’s are as casual as awards shows go … but that doesn’t mean they are a platform for your verbal diarrhea.
You strike me as an angry young man lashing out and blaming the world for all its apparent injustices without making any attempt to change anything other than by verbally critiquing and publicly humiliating. Grow up. Stop defining yourself and your worthiness by how the world perceives you or what awards they bestow on you. And if you were my son (who is 5 and you’re acting right about that age), you’d get a 5 minute time out for that little stint.


The competitive douchebag

I’m as competitive as the next person. Perhaps more so, but that’s arguable. One time, when I was about ten, I cried after a ski race because I hadn’t won and thankfully, my brother quickly pointed out how ridiculous I was behaving. Perhaps a certain female tennis player could have used the same chastising from someone as respected in her life because throwing equipment is unacceptable. And the “verbal tirade,” as the media seems so keen on calling it, is beyond unacceptable. No matter that calling a foot fault on match point is pretty sucky, to say the least, use another outlet for your anger. At that point, throw your racket if it’s going to stop you from verbally and arguably physically (she looked pretty damn scary) threatening someone.

Clijsters should have won that match without the long shadow of her opponent’s drama. She was going to, perhaps that was why someone saw the need to draw some attention back to herself.


The soccer mom douchebag

I went to watch my niece play soccer today. The weather was beautiful, I saw her look over when I walked up to the field, it was quite nice. And then I got douchebagged. You never can tell just when it’s going to happen.

The woman who planted herself next to me posed no immediate threat. Certainly seemed pleasant enough and was clearly happy to be there. I thought I had found a kindred spirit: someone who was psyched to quietly sit and watch the game. The the shouting. And the cheering. And the not so quiet calls to the players about how they should be playing where they should be passing and running and looking. Dear God, douchebagette, please shut up. You are not coaching the team. I can guarantee you your daughter is cringing, and I can promise you her friends laugh about you when the game is over. And your shrill voice ruined my enjoyment of the game as well as all those around you. I will probably be stuck hearing you in my dreams…ugh.


The TEAP douchebag

Blogs are lame in nature. Despite being a “blogger”, I get this inherent fact. To the douchebags that use their blog to complain about their job, spouse or pregnancy, please stop. Keep your laundry in your laundry room and off the world wide web.


The two sided D-Bag.

To the woman who spent 10 minutes utterly lambasting a woman to a few friends only to do an about face and act sickeningly sweet to the same woman, douchebag is to kind a word for you. Your reasons for picking on her were shallow and superficial and to turn around and act like her best friend moments later is just wrong. I had a quick reminder while watching you of how cruel and heartless human beings can be to one another. Like I said, douchebag is too kind a word.


The Original D-Bag post:

Douchebags. I’m torn with this word choice because the word is so awesome. It rolls off the tongue like the wind off the backs of our forefathers … and yet is another word for asshole. I use the term both endearingly, and ferociously.

In Jeremy’s vein, however, I am forced to limit my descriptions to the latter.

Douchebag Number 1.

If you pull out blindly into traffic and speed up really fast, it’s somewhat tolerable. I tail closely until I’m sure the driver gets that I’m annoyed and then switch with ADD-like speed to something else that grabs my attention. However, it is completely unacceptable to pull out blindly into traffic, thereby cutting someone off, and then continue to go 20 miles per hour under the speed limit for the next 8 miles.

Douchebag Number 2.

To the trucker on the highway who creeped the crap out of me the other day by driving next to me and continuing to give me the thumbs up. Look, asshole, you do not need to do this for miles on end, and yes, I was ignoring you and no, that didn’t stop you. Did you think I was going to give you the thumbs up in return and we could pull over at the nearest rest stop or something? Is that better than the alternative, you just trying to freak me out, make me less aware of what’s going on around me due to the enforced tunnel vision to avoid your lecherous gaze? If that’s worked for you before, I’m actually kind of impressed, but clearly I wasn’t up for it, so please please stop the synchronized driving and leave me alone.

Douchebag Number 3.

Never ever take out frustration with a team rivalry on a child. Throwing a fully dressed sausage at a child because she is holding up a sweatshirt for the opposing team and cheering with all her heart while her team is getting slaughtered is just plain wrong.

3 Responses to SHE SAID: D-Bags

  1. who says:

    so D-bag is a negative description?

  2. Genetically Engineered Douchebag says:

    One thing I’d like to point out, though I doubt you need it done, is that at one point on this page (The TEAP douchebag) you complain about people complaining about their lives on their blogs. You said, in more words than I will, “keep your laundry where it belongs.”

    You have been awarded the DBag Award from a genetically engineered dbag (cause it takes one to know one) for your post SHE SAID: Mom, Dad, I’m home!

    I’d have jumped on his HE SAID: D-bag page to ensure he knew he qualified for this prestigious award, but in all his arrogance…he gave it to himself. Though I’ll have to check the rule books to ensure that you can even be nominated for the DBag award when you’re drunk…let alone giving yourself the award with no outside consultation.

    Forgetting about my god given duty to play the devils advocate – Keep up the entertaining blog. It’s always fun seeing how others have related to their life and the experiences they’ve had during it.

  3. Genetically Engineered Douchebag says:

    forgot to add that the first 3 paragraphs of my last comment were written to be taken lightly. Though they do hold some truth, depending on how you look at it, they were not meant to create any upset in your current mindstate.

    If it did, I’d suggest reading just the last 2 sentances, as those where the only ones meant to be taken literally. If I even produced so much as a wrinkle on your forehead when you read the comment before deleting…sorry.

    You can delete this comment, its only for you anyway as a “on second thought that could piss her off if she doesn’t know its meant as a joke” type of “I’m sorry”

    If you weren’t offended…you’re one awesome Dbag!

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