Editor's note: Swpski is a friend of the blog and occasional commenter who moved from Chicago to the great state of California last year. Here is his story:
I was going to write a witty response to Mazerino's post on dogs. I side with the man after being hit in the secret no-no spot by the same dog in question. I say if you are going to have something that you have to constantly take care of and clean up poop after, make it a kid. That way in forty years when I am allowed to retire, at least someone will be funding my Social Security benefits... I instead have decided to write about a human douchebag of the week--one of my roommates who Mazerino and Dr. BJ know all to well as the human box (he's as wide as he is tall).
Last night I came back from the gym to find his fat ass on the couch watching "Seinfeld" and burning incense. If I want to smell like a hippie I will go hang out in Golden Gate Park (happens to be his favorite place to go to on a Sunday).
Sunday morning I drove home two hours from camping, and his lazy ass asks me for a ride to work. He has to be there by noon, and he is going to be late if I don't give him a ride. If you can't make it to a job by noon on a Sunday you are a dumbass. He also told me I should watch "Walk Hard, the Dewey Cox story" because it was hilarious. I told him I couldn't take him to work because I was going mountain biking. I sat at home and watched the Dewey Cox movie. It was horrible.
Based on the aforementioned misdeeds and a laundry list of other impolite infractions, the human box is our reigning "Douche of the Week or Time It Takes to Name a New Douche."
--Swpski
