So my car is at the dealership getting an electrical issue tended to. Because it’s under warranty, GM flipped the bill for a rental. I was dropped off at Enterprise Rent-A-Car with low expectations. I thought it’d be cool to drive a Tahoe or even a Grand Cherokee for a day, but went in expecting a Ford Focus. Well, GM only pays for GM cars and they had two on the lot – a maroon HHR or a cherry red HHR. “Boy”, I thought, “if my wedding ring wasn’t the ultimate female repellent, this car sure would be.” “Which one will it be?” asked the girl behind the counter. “Uh, you’re giving me a choice of color? I’ll only be driving it a couple days. It doesn’t matter…well, I’ll take the red one.” If I had no choice but to drive a clown car, it might as well be the same color as a clown’s nose. As soon as I closed the door to my sparkling Heritage High Roof, everything changed.
I couldn’t have felt like more of a douchebag as I drove off the lot. I might as well have been blaring Nickelback with the windows down. I ran a few errands, but before I could, I came home to make sure my hair looked tight. I rocked a few extra squirts of hair gel and I was ready.
Each time I got in and out of my red Micro Machine, people wrinkled their collective noses as though I had on 12 sprays of Drakkar Noir (I only had on ten. 12 is offensive). I pretended their looks didn’t bother me though. I was too busy making important phone calls on my Blue Tooth. Because of the importance of the call, I had to yell. So what if all of Nordstrom could hear me? I had to make dinner reservations.
After I picked up a few pairs of True Religion Brand jeans and a Marc Jacobs sweater, I was dying for my mid-day frappuccino, so off to Starbucks I went. I paid with a Benjamin. It’s all I had. Following Starbucks, I had a major disaster I had to attend to – my cologne had worn off. I headed home to replenish my Drakkar Noir and add more hair gel. I also had to set my DVR to record Jersey Shore tonight. I’m going out in Pontiac tonight, dawg. I’m picking up my boys and heading to Clutch Cargo. I need to get my mack on, dawg. I only have this whip for a few days, I need to get GM’s money’s worth.
Tim is the founder and author of It’s Always Sunny In Detroit. Born and raised north of "The D", he was hands down the fastest kid on the playground (go ahead, race him). In his glory days as a Big Ten baseballer, Tim often thought about dating Jennifer Love Hewitt. After he hung ‘em up and got real, he graduated from law school and came back to Detroit to keep it sunny. Tim knows his stuff – and his stuff is sports (the games), sports (the business), funny clips, pretty ladies...and of course, sports.
I couldn’t have felt like more of a douchebag as I drove off the lot. I might as well have been blaring Nickelback with the windows down. I ran a few errands, but before I could, I came home to make sure my hair looked tight. I rocked a few extra squirts of hair gel and I was ready.
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I didn't get invited to Clutch Cargoes.
I seriously can't believe you chose bright red over maroon. At least maroon would've blended in a bit more. I guess you really did want to embrane the douchebag-ness to the full extent.
You kinda did one of those experiments like they do in Glamor magazine…they'll put a thin lady in a fat suit or stick a wad of toilet paper to her shoe to see how people respond. You got to to the "douchebag for a day" experiment.
Well-played, Gurgz.
Thanks Gylz.