Ask a Douche Bag

Welcome to the first and only advice column written for douche bags, by douche bags! It may be shocking to learn that a douche bag’s life could be anything but perfect, what with 300 Hollywood Tans locations in the US and abroad (now paying customers can finally get a tan in Dubai!). The reality is that douche bags have problems, too, and not all of them can be solved by Red Bull or grad school. That’s where DBH comes in.

Email your problems to dbhandbook@gmail.com and let DBH gently nudge you over life’s most inconveniencing hurdles!

Dear DBH,
I’m really interested in this girl I saw dancing in a cage at Fur last weekend. I’m not usually the love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but I was entranced by her rhythmic gyrations and her Ugg boots. She also open-mouth kissed one of her gurlz during a Katy Perry song. I want to buy her a drink the next time I see her, what should I order?
-Flirty Martini

F.M.,
Buying a drink for a girl at a bar or night club is a fast and easy way to say, “It would really help me out if your judgment was severely impaired for the rest of the night,” without screaming over T.I.’s enlightening lyrics. Every girl loves the attention and cost-effectiveness of having drinks bought for them. To a girl, however, the drink you buy says more about your opinion of her than it does about yourself. For instance, sending a Bud Light to that brunette at the end of the bar could be perceived more as a statement on the snow white love handles cascading over her black “going out” pants than a gentlemanly gesture. Make sure you send the right signal. Here are some suggestions and the implied messages they may convey:

Cosmopolitan: Your Jimmy Choo handbag and outwardly apparent emotional instability reminds me of the characters from Sex and the City…isn’t this what they always drink? I really hope you’re the slutty blond one out of your friend group. I liked her in Mannequin…

Jager-bomb: I want you to black out so I can take you back to my apartment in Court House where you will wake up in the middle of the night to throw up on my Tempurpedic pillow and night stand. Hope you didn’t eat noodles tonight!

Red-Headed Slut: I was trying to ask the bar tender if he knew the name of that girl at the end of the bar, but he thought I was ordering you a drink. Let’s have some forced conversation and then move to the dance floor so you can rub your sparkly body lotion and lipstick all over my expensive, lavender Armani Exchange shirt.

Red wine: You look like a 40 year old single mother and I want to spend the rest of my evening pretending to think you’re 27 and claiming that your seven inch C-section scar is barely noticeable, even up close.
-DBH