My First Time Being a Douchebag

Had a couple of “firsts” this weekend including a ghetto urgent care in the midst of flu season, Indian food, and most important, being a complete asshole to a stranger who didn’t deserve it. 

Saturday afternoon a friend called in a sheer panic after spending days alone on the couch with the flu, feeling delirious and freaked out. After an interesting couple of hours people watching at urgent care and a diagnosis of “drink lots of fluids,” she insisted on buying me dinner in exchange for my aid with her bout of hypochondria. Fair. 

I was thrilled when she suggested ordering Indian food, as I was an Indian virgin and her offer was the perfect chance to try it risk free. That weird shit is not cheap. No, taking advantage of my “ill” friend is not the part where I am an asshole. That’s next.

Back at home that evening, the doorbell rang causing my chihuahua to go insane, forcing me to obnoxiously hold my angry dog like Paris Hilton while showing the extremely tall restaurant delivery guy to the kitchen.  Just to further paint the picture, I was also wearing a dress (from an earlier work appointment) and holding a glass of red wine in the other hand. 

“You can put everything right here.” I pointed and said immediately feeling like a snob instructing him on where and how to serve me.  

Then with a sarcastic and loud tone so my husband and friend could be entertained by my hilarity, I said, “By the way, you’re name isn’t ANDRE by any chance, is it?” 

He responded with a polite and sort of sad voice. “Ha, ha, I get it. Heard that one before.”

—- Here’s where I need to explain that I was not trying to call him Andre the Giant. I am not an asshole douchebag who makes fun of appearances. I make fun of people, but it’s usually a dirty pun or something like that. Intellectual humor, as I call it.—–

What I was referring to was an earlier conversation, in which we were discussing the name of the restaurant delivery service, Entrees on Trays and how it should be run by a guy named Andre so it would be Andre’s Entrees on Trays. Which stemmed from the hilarious Low Cal Calzone Zone from Parks & Recreation. I attempted to explain Andre’s Entrees to my poor unintentional bullying target, but it was clear that the damage had been done and he went on his way to the rest of his lazy asshole customers’ homes.

I still can’t get over what a bitch I accidentally was. Hopefully he just brushed it off, thinking that was typical of the yippy-dog-holding, overpriced food ordering bitch I appeared to be. Anyway, I just need to put it out there to him in public, I am so sorry for the double entendre, pun clearly bolded and intended.

On another note, if you are in the DFW area, Chicken Tika Masala from Maharaja is superb. And you are free to use my potty wordplay if you use it carefully: chicken-tikal-myasshola.