Thursday, December 8, 2011

Most Expensive First Date Hott: Champagne Katie


Doctor Bunsen Honeydouche hands out the 2011 Douchie Award:

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Your mutual friend who loves to play match maker tells you that she has someone that would be perfect for you. She’s gorgeous and has a great personality (“Which is it?” you think.) but she’s never been able to find “the right guy”. So you say “Sure, what the hell. How bad can it be?” and throw caution to the wind…

After exchanging some brief texts to get her phone number and set up the date, you give her a ring to see if she’s ready. She tells you she’s running 10 minutes late as you’re making your way over to her place.

OK, no big deal.

I’ll look good by stopping off at the flower store and get her some flowers. What woman doesn’t like flowers, right? So you drop $20 on a small but non-descript arrangement.

You get to her building and the doorman lets you in. The lobby is huge and VERY clean. You ring her apartment and she tells you to come up but she’s not quite ready. No big deal, you’ve built in some time because this has happened before. What was 10 minutes suddenly turns into an hour. She comes out and looks hotter than a solar flare. It’s gonna be tight but you’ll be able to make those reservations you made at that new Polynesian fusion place that everyone has been raving about lately. She takes the flowers and throws them on her kitchen counter without even so much as a sniff…

As soon as you get there she asks “Is this where we’re stopping for drinks before dinner? I ate here last week and I didn’t like anything”. Sh!t! Time to make plan “B” on the fly.

You excuse yourself and head over to the bar and ask for the phonebook. You find THE most expensive place in town and secretly beg God that you can get in. You’re put on a waiting list that’s 20 deep. Screw it! Just go there and hope that a huge “tip” for the maitre’ d will get you a table. Luckily you hit the ATM before going on this excursion so you assume that you’re OK. You get there, announce your reservation loudly, and shake hands with the maitre’ d secretly passing him $100. He snorts derisively and gently whispers “What the f@#k am I going to do with this? Double it and you can sit near the kitchen.” You do and then promptly get seated at the table where the swinging doors will be hitting you for the entire meal. A waiter hands you the menus and you start to panic.

THERE ARE NO PRICES ANYWHERE ON THE GODDMAN THING!

You pull the menu up closer to your face in the hope that she didn’t just see all the blood run out of your face. You take a sip of water (Is it free or is it $50 a glass???) and try to compose yourself. Just as your getting your bearings back you hear her tell the waiter, “I’ll have one of these, one of these, this and I’ll start with that.”

Good Lord, what did she just do? The waiter approaches you and asks what you’ll be having. You can’t find a small salad anywhere on the menu (stupid French), realize you’re screwed and just mumble “I’ll have the same.” “To drink?” asks Pepe. She chimes in “We’ll take a bottle of this” ever so helpfully. Great. The idea of working seven other jobs is now starting to have some appeal. You surreptitiously reach for your phone under the table and go to the AMEX site. You apply for a Platinum AMEX card but have to wait 30 minutes for approval. You pat yourself on the back for your resourcefulness and quick thinking.

During dinner she yammers on and on and on about superficial things that no one cares about (Did Kim really marry for love or was it really for the money? Bieber totally couldn’t have had a baby with that skank. I hope the color palette for this spring is more neutral than pastel because I look better in those. Will heels go higher or lower? BLAH BLAH BLAH…) to the point you contemplate jumping up on the table and yelling “Shut your stupid vapid mouth you inconsiderate moron! You’re the reason why birth control should be mandatory for people who have no sense about anyone other than themselves!” You gobble your dinner (she doesn’t even notice OR stop talking) when she says she wants dessert. Why not? Keep it coming. Your phone vibrates. You look and AMEX will give you a card with a $2000 line of credit. Will this be enough? You hope so. The bill comes and you have $5 to spare. Great googly moogly that was close. With interest you can pay it off in about 8 months. Now it is time to get out of here…

You fake a migraine and head out of the restaurant. As she’s walking out the door she rips a heel off one of her shoes. Really? Now you’re stuck. She wants you to carry her down to her favorite boutique so she can get another pair of shoes. You notice the bag she is carrying isn’t even big enough to hold a tic tac and figure this one’s on you too. So what else is new? She finds a pair of Manolo Blahniks that she’s “had her eye on for a while” and makes the puppy dog eyes at you. The clerk looks expectantly at you for your card and you hand your Visa over. She squeals with delight at her new $618 pair of shoes. Sex is the furthest thing from your mind now.

You’re starting to feel like a third-world country that is in the stages of a bloodless coup and inflation is rising. But wait the night isn’t over. No, not by a long shot. Just before you enter the parking garage, a cab splashes her head-to-toe in gutter water. You stifle a laugh (cough cough) but she’s absolutely livid. Luckily another boutique ($2500 for new dress) and a dry cleaner are right around the corner. That sting you now feel on your ass you recognize as the AMEX and VISA logos being branded to you because your cards are so f@#king hot.

You finally make it to your car and speed back to her place. You drop her off (Yeah, I had a great time. I’ll call you after I get back from the trip I have to make to Botswana. Sure, we’ll get together then. No problem.) You’re about to curl up into the fetal position when your mutual friends calls. “So, how did it go?” she asks. She says that she can’t make out what you’re saying between all the sobbing and gurgling noises and to act like a man. You scream “F@#K YOU!” into the phone and then hang up.

Later you get an email from Katie@goldigger.com and you achieve total enlightenment. (Total = $5333)

Our runners up include:

The NBA… it’s creeeeeppppptastic!

This Guy Wins

and Fratpud Juan Can’t Believe His Luck



——

# posted by douchebag1
4:06 pm December, 8 Wedgie said...

The one and only possible choice. She’ll bring her attorney on your first date.

4:11 pm December, 8 Scooby Douche said...

Who hasn’t had this happen to them? Thank you Doctor.

4:13 pm December, 8 Wheezer said...

@Wedgie –
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And guess who gets to pay the legal fees?
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Doc Bunsen, thanks to this frightening write-up, I will remain happily single. Perpetual masturbation has such a wonderful appeal right now.

4:16 pm December, 8 Vin Douchal said...

Epic.

4:18 pm December, 8 Vin Douchal said...

Best fight of the year and Bruins’ play by play man, Jack Edwards can’t believe his good fortune of witnessing it
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“You don’t DO that to Tim Thomas, that’s the franchise !!!”
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4:23 pm December, 8 Charles Douchewin said...

Bravo Doc Bunsen!
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Your choice for the award winner is spot on, and I had a blast reading your write-up.
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I was particularly moved by your evocative sentence “You’re starting to feel like a third-world country that is in the stages of a bloodless coup and inflation is rising.”
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I have been on that date, and yes, yes I did.
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Also, when you look at NBA creeeeeppppptastic! Guy, does anybody else get the impression that if we unzipped Stephen Tyler – this is what we’d find inside?
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Again, nice work Doc!

4:23 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

Wow, so I’m really letting them off easy when I agree to meet up at Denny’s for the buy one get one free Moons over MyHammie Special.
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I think that whole scenario Doc B described could be classified as wallet rape. There should be a hotline for that. Great story telling Doc B. Champagne Katie I hope you find an idiot willing to put up with your shit. And trust me you will. Just show em your boobs.

4:34 pm December, 8 baffomet said...

Well played Doc, well played.

4:34 pm December, 8 Champagne Katie's Houseboy's Drycleaner said...

Wait til I tell her! She’ll be so excited. She’s got a much friendlier attitude toward the site now. The hard work of Flirting With Champagne Katie pays off. Well, not really, but it’s pretty cool.

4:47 pm December, 8 Wedgie said...

I can’t wait for Karen’s (her real name) Mom to weigh in on this award.

4:56 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

@Wedgie, I love Karen’s Mom. I hope she weighs in as well. Perhaps declaring that her daughter wuz robbed.

4:58 pm December, 8 douche equis said...

Am I suddenly seeing at an angle?
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Beautiful writeup, well done. I hope you won’t feel like I’m crapping on it by telling you it resonated with me regarding an event in my life long ago. First date with a nice young lady down in D.C., neither of us had any idea where to go (me not being from there, she not being a gadabout), so we found a nice-sounding place in a newspaper restaurant guide and off we went. Well.
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No prices on the menus (per your story)? Not quite, but it was prix fixe — $55 and $75, your choice. (Please remember that this was in about 1984, and skinny young me was not in the slightest bit a man of means.
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Vapid conversation? Not really . . . but, and I am not kidding, she made a point of saying during the beginning of the meal that she was certain she would never have sex with anyone. “I would never let anyone do those things to me” was the exact quote. Oh, good.
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The bill? No, not thousands . . . but if memory serves it was $195. Which I put on, yes, my Amex card. I think that, at the time, that was not a lot less than a week’s take-home for me.
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I did see the girl one more time, but I think that was my masochistic streak.
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So your post rang more than one bell with me, and I thank you for it.

5:00 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

@Champagne Katie’s Houseboys Drycleaner, Do tell what’s she really like? Have you had any success in getting into her silver poon? Details man, details.

5:05 pm December, 8 Champagne Katie's Houseboy's Drycleaner said...

Purely an internet relationship, Nancy. She <3's me and thinks I'm the ish!!! And apparently talks about me to her friends. But that's it. I am, however, privy to her modeling portfolio. She's making quite a success of it.

5:06 pm December, 8 Champagne Katie's Houseboy's Drycleaner said...

That said, she’s probably a damned expensive first date…

5:13 pm December, 8 Wedgie said...

^Hey, Buddy, we’re all privy to her modeling portfolio. It’s called Model Mayhem. Mammtastic Mary is on there, too. And let me tell you, it’s a very short trip from Model Mayhem to the San Fernando Valley, doing D.P.’s with guys named “Rod” and “Lance”..

5:15 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

^Good stuff. I think you should go for it. Once in a lifetime chance right? Internet relationships are gay though and don’t count. So don’t give us any more updates until peen meets vasheen. Now go gettum’!

5:18 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

I was talking to Champagne Katie’s towel boy, but you could have a crack at her too if you want Wedgie.

5:57 pm December, 8 Champagne Katie's Houseboy's Drycleaner said...

She’s way beyond the model mayhem stage; that was early days, beginning of the year.

Still, Nancy, she did just change her status to single (again!). Celebrated with a bottle of Hello Kitty…..champagne (can DB1 name em or what?)

I’m on a mission now.

6:15 pm December, 8 Nancy Dreuche said...

@Future Champagne Katie’s Purse Holder While She Tries On Stuff, do us proud. Seems like you’re already in the inner circle what with being her Facebook friend and all. Lucky bastard.

6:53 pm December, 8 CB Popped said...

“I’ll have the same.”

Hysterical. Tks Dr. Bunsen.

Vin D – awesome post. For some New Yorkers (even closet Islander fans) Hockey is the only sport. 😉

6:57 pm December, 8 Nostradouchus said...

Don’t worry….Billy Dee Williams next to her here spent all his money on that bracelet.

Great pick.

7:23 pm December, 8 idfma said...

Dr…very funny. The way you captured the uncertainty of the whole experience, except for the pain she will cause–that much is certain. Well done.

7:53 pm December, 8 Wedgie said...

Where the hell is the Socck? Crucial, Boatbutter, Sarge, Jacques, Reeve, Deltus & VonScroatler?
It’s the annual, come on you lazy beyotches. Nut up.

8:35 pm December, 8 Medusa Oblongata said...

Dear God…I got up from the computer and feebly tried to take a few steps away. My knees buckled, and I crumpled to the floor. Racked with sobs, I was flooded with the horrible guilt and shame for all the suffering men have endured at the hands of woman, all for the fleeting hope of pussy. I also pounded a fist to the linoleum at the recollection of my first real date with the Ex-Mr. Oblongata. Sitting down in the steak house, I looked about in confusion, from our table to others, to the walls and to the bar. When he asked me what was wrong, I said, “This is the first time a guy ever took me to a restaurant where the ketchup didn’t come in packets.” It was the truth. Not that I could ever have been the vampire that Champagne Katies are; I merely could have placed a higher value on my ‘currency’, if you know what I mean. I liked to think I was ‘simple’ and ‘laid back’. The reality was, I was so self-loathing that a Taco Bell value meal and a trip to the tavern was good enough for me. Worst of all, I paid for it and I was the one driving, because that’s how I rolled.
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Good times. And by good times, I mean I hate all the Champagne Katies of the world just as much, if not more than I hate myself right now.

8:42 pm December, 8 Ted Brogan said...

Best write-up, and most appropriate pic for the category. This post is completely full of win.

9:26 pm December, 8 Anonymous said...

Absolutely the best thing I’ve read all day. Sincere and hearty congratulations, Dr Bunsen. My similar experience wasn’t anywhere near as expeno nor was my date blessed with the physical attributes of Champoo Katie. And, foolish me, I was practically a moral for a root besides as she suggested while traveling (in the stretch limo) to the restaurant (Conrad Jupiters, Gold Coast; Nicholsons – their fine dining room) that afterwards I should ‘come back to her place…’ Anyway, I knew the restaurant staff having being head hunted from a local restaurant months earlier (and left their company after experiencing ‘professional differences’ with the snooty French Maitre D) and they (especially the sommelier) kept the hospitality alive. Leaving, after several bracing armagnacs, vintage ports and cleansing ales, we tripped the light fantastic at the atrium nightclub where I wander onto the dance floor for a (solo) jig never to return. I’d blacked out by this stage. Urrr, the 80s.

9:27 pm December, 8 tall guy said...

Shit, that’s me above.

10:03 pm December, 8 Baron Von Goolo said...

Doc Bunsen brings the horror! Bravo! But I give you only a 9.9 out of 10 because you were too much of a pussy to type the word ‘fuck’.
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You’re amongst friends. Seriously, dude, wtf?

10:10 pm December, 8 tall guy said...

In the temporary absence of Kroeger, who’s doing a sterling job soundtracking the 2011 Douchies, I’ll fill in with one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S75a00owFFA

Great Australian 70s surf movie. Oh, how I miss my youth some days.

10:21 pm December, 8 tall guy said...

Also, my anon post above is a train wreck. Should be: ‘having been head hunted’ + ‘where I wandered onto the dance floor’

10:35 pm December, 8 Mr. Scrotato Head said...

fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw w fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fww fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw wf fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw fw
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The Sound of One Hand Fwapping.
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You are a god among mortals, Doc. As I recall, my post to her as she was revealing her true self to us had her stuffing urine tainted toilet paper down her own throat.
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You are much, much crueler. And I think I love you for that.

10:40 pm December, 8 Guid is Good said...

Was there ever any doubt?

11:19 pm December, 8 Jacques Doucheteau said...

Bra. Vo.

12:29 am December, 9 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

As the Hindu’s read in the 700 Sanskrit verses of the Bhagavad Gita, or Bag as we scholars refer to it, there is enlightenment at the end of a thoughtful process. And for this, Dr.Bunsen is to be praised.
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He is fluent in the verses as witnessed in his treatise to Champagne Katie. It is written that, “Better indeed is knowledge than mechanical practice. Better than knowledge is meditation. But better still is surrender of attachment to results, because there follows immediate peace. Tickle-tickle, break the pickle,”
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This acknowledgement of the order of ones thoughts and that great hit he laid on Tim Thomas above show Dr. Bunsen’s committment to the philosophical sciences and the control he has over his aura. As fellow Indigo child I feel a bond building in me. An internal awakening in my core. Oops I pooped.
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Before I change pants and try to get back to sleep I’ll lay down a little track quite different than the one running down my leg. A little late night groove to get your grovvy groove on with. And thanks for filling in Tall Guy, I passed out a little early on the new chronic.
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This set should almost get us to dawn in the east. Take it away Steve Winwood and company at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. Krishnas Plagos.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cO1q7zPDs4U&feature=related

1:11 am December, 9 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

The world was a better place before I found out that Peter Pumpkin head was banging a tranny.

3:44 am December, 9 Anonymous said...

Further correction to the train wreck: ‘having been head hunted from a local restaurant months earlier to work for Conrad’

Why is it some folk obsessively correct their bad posts?

3:49 am December, 9 tall guy said...

And that’s me again…

3:55 am December, 9 Chris in 'Baghdad said...

WOW!!!!!! The Doctor is IN!!

Awesome job, Doc.

4:16 am December, 9 DoucheyWallnuts said...

By the time I got to the point where she bitched about not liking anything at the planned restaurant, I felt like it was happening to me…Great job. However, who uses a phone book any more?

4:59 am December, 9 hermit said...

Nice job Doc.
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As soon as she dropped the flowers on the counter, one should say, “Show some respect bitch!” Reinforced with a light backhanded slap to the face.
Within a few minutes she would have been lying on her back on the counter with her legs spread, begging to be pummeled. Upon completion, you zip up,

5:01 am December, 9 hermit said...

……….grab the flowers, and take them back to Walmart for a full refund.

5:04 am December, 9 hermit said...

………..Then bang the florist in the ladie’s bathroom.

5:36 am December, 9 FoghornLeghorn said...

This write up and the comments are everything that keeps me coming back to this site. Well done.

5:39 am December, 9 Capt. James T. Douche said...

Right on the money with this one!!! Great write up Doc B.

5:48 am December, 9 Douchble Helix said...

i’m partial to Hermit’s version. Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma’am. The encounter and the retelling.
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I believe every story should end, truthfully or not, with what I like to call “The Big Penthouse Finish”.
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Xavieras

6:23 am December, 9 Nancy Dreuche said...

I am partial to Hermits version as well. But I always like to end it with, “and then he made me a sammich.”Usually this us followed by a round of high fives and everyone agreeing that that’s why they call me G- Money. It’s pretty sweet.

7:11 am December, 9 I R A Darth Aggie said...

Hookers and blow is a lot cheaper “date”.

7:29 am December, 9 Et Tu Douche? said...

Bravo Doc Bunsen, Bravo. I’ve been on that date before and it sucked!!!!

8:20 am December, 9 DarkSock said...

I’ve been on a version of that date before, twice. Once, when in my mid- 20’s young and broke, trying to land a poon princess who was clearly playing this vapid game at a higher level than I’d ever care to; I followed the same script and was left with the same hollow self-loathing and leaden credit cards. In hindsight, if I’d treated her like shit with disinterest and a dismissive air she’d probably have fist-chugged my load under the white linen then and there.
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I’ve got money now; it’s good to be a shareholder in a big firm, even in these dark days. I’m older Budweiser now; I’d have gotten a “call” shortly after she dismissively tossed my flowers down calling me away from the tiresome game that her date was going to be, and then I’d have blocked her 15 calls later.
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Nice guys finish last…with bad girls.
Nice girls fuck harder…and better…for longer. And have nothing but love for their fathers and themselves.
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So get worthy women, dear readers; even the crazy ones like Medusa; keep away from the princesses who never developed compassion, empathy and caring because for them those things are like hard labor and buying your own drinks at a bar: totally unnecessary.
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Stop feeding the cancer you horn-dogs; pick good girls.
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Gamers.

2:25 pm December, 9 Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche said...

Thank you, thank you thank you one and all. Not only for the kind words here but for the kind words when I was having a bit of a go of it after my student took his life. It really does mean a lot to me (not to be all touchy feely or anything).
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@ Baron
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I was edited I tells ya. Bossman took out all my good words with things like ! and @& shit. So what was FUCK YOU turned into F@#K YOU!” Still glad you liked it though.

2:38 pm December, 9 Mr. Biggs said...

tl;dr. Seriously, can we do a 500 word limit? Word counted 1198.

12:44 am December, 10 Whoop-di-douche said...

After all that, I’m breathless.
And Bunsen Honeydouche, you burn brighter than a sugar flame on a bunsen burner in junior high chem lab.

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