Did you know that the Jersey Shore apparently has a satellite location, right under our noses here in the great state of California? Well, NEITHER DID I. But take a look at the evidence:
(All photos swooped from the lovely Miss JennyGrace)
Yeah. Tip of the iceberg, people. Anyhow, once we ladies got on board with the idea that our trip was going to be saturated with douchebags, we decided to sit back and enjoy it. And, hey! On the bright side, we thought, douchebags have such inflated senses of self esteem that they are essentially harmless! I could make accidental eye contact with one, for example, and not worry that he would come over to hit on me because he had such a massive ego that he assumed I would come talk to him. See? Here they are, swarmed behind Biddy and Holly, but not actually approaching a tableful of girls.
So! We decided that douchebags, while obnoxious, are fairly harmless if you don't actually want to sleep with any of them.
Oh, but how wrong we were.
On our second night in Pacific Beach, we put on our dancing shoes and headed out to a local bar. We stationed ourselves at a table near the entrance where we could openly gawk at and judge everyone who walked by. I never said we were nice people. Ahem.
So we enjoyed our drinks for awhile and giggled at the ridiculousness of the scenario. And at one point I said, "Okay I think we should have a contest-- who can find the BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG OF THEM ALL?"
And Holly looked up from her drink (rum, of course, why do you ask?). "Uh," she said, wide eyed, "I think I found it."
We all followed her gaze and lo. There he was: Polo shirt with a popped collar. Wristband. Trucker hat. Sunglasses. Plaid shorts. Flip flops.
"Yep." I said, "YOU WIN." And we all had a good laugh over it.
Later, when he and his posse were leaving the bar. Biddy aimed her camera at them, trying to capture the doucheyest of douches and THEN IT HAPPENED. Another douchebag, attracted by the flash, galloped over to our table and lunged at each of us in turn. We were in disbelief, taking photos to capture the moment. And this, of course, did nothing but spur him on. He yanked at Jenny's top. He thrust himself at Holly. He flailed his arms around at Undercovermama. He grabbed my face and then danced with my purse. Douchebags, we have learned, are ANYTHING BUT HARMLESS.
And then another one helped himself to a seat at our table and proceeded to tell us, uh, the meaning of life?
And they just. kept. coming. I don't know if any of us were prepared to be touched without permission so many times. So. San Diego. Full of douchebags who are not necessarily harmless. Now you know.
