Ask a Douche Bag IV

Remember to send your questions to DBHandbook@gmail.com and have them answered (anonymously) on the Internet!

Dear DBH,

You know what's really annoying? That's not the question. When you are running on a treadmill at the gym and a d-bag gets on the one next to you and engages you in a treadmill speed war. I'm a girl, and seeing as you are taller, in better shape than myself, and male, you will probably kick my ass at speed (although I will still be running on here when your pansy-ass wimps out in 15 minutes). But it's not like I am just going to get blown away by your stationary speed and keep my slower pace and look like a slacker. Oh no. But really, I also wasn't planning on breathing this heavy at the gym. Maybe after, but not now. Anyway, how can I not compete with the d-bags at the gym and still win?

High five and a fist pump,
A. Winner


Ms. Winner,
(I’ll assume from your body image issues and your passion for competition—not yet dulled by years of acquiescing to incorrect answers shouted by your spouse at previously recorded episodes of Jeopardy—that you are not married. ‘It’s the Sistine Chapel, not the Sixteen Chapel,’ you’ll scream inside your head while taking a long, slow sip of your Coke Zero, swallowing it along with your feelings of anger and remorse.)

While your situation may seem intractable, it is not. To borrow a line from the Academy-Award-winning 1994 tour de force Speed, when life presents a challenge you cannot overcome no matter how hard you try, shoot the hostage.

That’s right, shoot the hostage.

And if that advice seems confusing and misappropriated, as if the author committed prematurely to a movie from which to quote (only to find it woefully lacking), rather than finding a quote to fit the question at hand and then citing the movie from which it came, you’re missing the deeper meaning.

Trying to beat a douche bag at the gym is like punting to Devin Hester or waging a land war in Asia—it’s just not a good idea, and you’ll more than likely end up sweaty and embarrassed. Like the current conflict in Iraq, and the misunderstanding in Vietnam before that, you’re trying to defeat an adept and well supplied adversary on its home turf. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from those two conflicts it’s that the only thing sweeter than absolute victory is changing the definition of victory with a series of incremental, purely symbolic and Pyrrhic successes achieved over an interminable period of time.

So what do you do? Don’t try to beat a douche bag at his own game. Change the game:

Start a gym-wide rumor that How I Met My Mother was abruptly canceled after Neil Patrick Harris left the show to star in a one-man, off-Broadway adaptation of The Sisterhoood of the Traveling Pants that is basically just an hour of NPH dancing alone on stage in tight fitting jeans while humming the I Dream of Jeannie theme song …to himself.

Remark aloud that for years you thought Georgetown Prep and Landon were different names for the same vocational school located in Prince George’s County, until you found out last week that they were two completely different vocational schools located in Prince George’s County.

Turn every TV in the gym to the Hoosiers-Rudy-Brian’s Song-Invincible Saturday afternoon marathon on USA, then hide the remotes and count the number times every guy in the gym clears his throat in an effort to disguise the fact that he is crying.

Bring a bottle of vitamins with the label removed to your next workout. Whenever you see a guy wearing a “Property of [Big Ten school] XXL” shirt finish a set and strike up a conversation with a girl, walk over, hand him the bottle and say (loudly), “Excuse me…I think you left your Valtrex at the lat pull-down machine.” (Use a Sharpie to write “HERPES PILLS” on the bottle for a more realistic effect.)

Or simply forgo competition and revel in the fact that no matter how fast any guy can run on a treadmill, come Saturday night his impressive muscles and horse-like stamina will always be outweighed by his Zoo York Battle Reversible Camo hoodie and his bad gin-and-tonic breath.

...and he will probably buy you a drink…

You win!

-DBH