Douche Hat

Written “back-in-the-day”, 2012

I need a douche hat…and a shitty car with a soup-can muffler.

While you’re giving me gifts, why not some mid ’90’s economy sedan with plenty of space under the hood for superchargers, turbos, cold air intakes and enough trunk space to stuff a few bass cannons so I might make my brain hemorrhage.

Since I live in Utah, I’ll need a big back seat. Said seat would fit enough wives, babies and children to keep any man miserable.

I don’t want a minivan. A minivan would sully my carefully crafted “douche hat” persona. You never see anyone cool driving minivans. They are, simply put, Yag.

There will also need to be a glove box large enough to fit my gold and concealed weapons; in Utah one must always carry spending gold and guns to protect the herd.

Beneath my douche hat I will need some very cool shades. I hear Oakleys are going out of fashion so suggestions would be welcome.

Lastly, I must learn to drive like a complete sack of assholes.

Thank you for your time.
Now, where’s my fucking douche hat!?

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