Jun
26 2010
Allow me to paint you, dear reader, a picture.
My friends and I are attending a baseball game. We have good seats, but they’re on an aisle, which means there’s a lot of traffic up and down.
The game, which was already pretty good has, as they say, hotted up. The Giants have their ace reliever on the mound, but the Red Sox are threatening. One run separates the teams, and there are men on first and second with two men out. It is the ninth, and last, inning.
Everyone is standing. The crowd is cheering, roaring, pulsing. Conflicting chants erupt: let’s go Giants, let’s go Red Sox.
King Douchebag emerges. This is not hyperbole, not at all. Standing right in the middle of the aisle is the king of all douchebags. He has chosen this particular moment in time to field a phone call.
Oblivious to everything, King Douchebag jams his finger in his ear and begins talking. He is not only blocking the aisle, but the view of everyone behind him.
I scream at him: “It’s not a good time to be checking on your stock portfolio, Rockefeller!” My friend’s girlfriend, much more polite, taps King Douchebag on the shoulder. This wakes him up, and he moves. Had she not alerted King Douchebag to his douchebaggery, the guy might still be there, blocking the aisle with his cell phone and important phone call.
Categories: Stupid people
