Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Vin Douchal's Suburban Housewife Dilemma Pt. 1

NotCollege

From the Where’s Trevor comments thread comes this gem of a depressing yarn spun by the great Vin Douchal:

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Nights of clubbing, Kappa Alpha Theta days at UCLA melt into pop quizes and complexion complexities as Vernon, the solid “C” grade Computation major slides his way into an otherwise innocent life of group poses, bathroom make-up exchanges and pep rallies and Pauley Pavillion ladies room vomit scenes.

An innocent night of jello shooters finds her 6 weeks later peeing on a Rite Aid home test praying, hoping upon hoping the straight line in the little window does not grow a cross hair. Negative? No, positive. Again

All five stages manifest in one stream of anguish, “NO!, Shit!, Please be wrong- I’ll do anything, oh no I’m screwed, Well… five positives can’t be wrong,… time to call dad.”

Showing, glowing back for the Holidays when the high school ex- sees her at the Piggly Wiggly shopping for last minute yams and Coors Light inquiring about college… she cries, falls into his embrace. He tells her he will take care of her , stay here, marry me, I’ll raise the child as if my own. We’ll have others, maybe right away so they can have a little sister or brother… I’ve always loved you more than life itself. I cried when you went to California,… my Kelly, sweet sweet Kelly… they make love in his 4 wheel drive 1500 HD, drying each others tears and gentialia with the same greasy oil rag

Three kids, four years later, the silo manufacturer closes, the corporations snatch up the farms and they’re living in “the extra room” at her parents house all five of them like Mexican pallet families on a sand mountain in Tijuana. No sex, no desire anyway, no quiet time, constant badgering from dad, a baby with colic, a pre-schooler with constantly skinned knees and a toddler wearing opposite sex hand-me-downs ….

In a rare moment when all three kids are asleep and he’s out grousing with his pals, she smiles and in a saturnine, morose moment thinks about a nineteen year old with a fake ID, surrounded by faux-sisters , dapper young men and their will to succeed and the life of her forgotten college friends in their Malibu Zuma classes with designer panini griddles and tremendous Jared wedding rings. She walks calmly to her parents medicine cabinet

She swallows her mom’s month supply of valium and pens a note, ” I’m a failure, I crossed paths with a Douchebag and did not head the warnings,… I’m sorry,goodbye.”

————–

I found the only image I could to counterbalance that depressing tale of woe.

# posted by douchebag1
1:29 pm November, 26 Dude McCrudeshoes said...

Numbers 1 and 5 may stay behind for the talent portion of our competition. There are some nice consolation prizes for the rest of you. And by talent portion I mean fellatricies. And by consolation prizes I mean Plan B and Redbull.

1:30 pm November, 26 FredN. said...

Going left to right, Hotties #2 and #5 not only balance out the woe but make me say whoa. Good god.

1:34 pm November, 26 Ed Hardy Har Har said...

A “Woo Club Sandwich”!

2:39 pm November, 26 UFO Destroyers said...

I hope that pic is not from Auburn. One of the girls looks like one of my friend’s daughters. Pray it’s not from Auburn. But she wouldn’t act this way, would she? Just far enough out of the house, but close to home. Don’t be from Auburn.

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Anyway, is #3 spinner licking #4’s vollyball-playing arm?

2:53 pm November, 26 Guid is Good said...

I’ll be in my room …

3:08 pm November, 26 Dr Magnifico said...

1, 2 & 5 pick’o’the crop. 6 on stand by and crazy eyes # 4 looks wide set as well as barking mad.

3:25 pm November, 26 Vin Douchal said...

Eenie meenie minie

4:00 pm November, 26 Ferris said...

There isn’t anything about this picture that doesn’t give me the renob. And I know that’s a double negative, but I can’t fix it because I’m too busy looking at #1’s thigh-highs, and wondering what that missing hand is doing ….

4:28 pm November, 26 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

Mrs. Kroeger was asking for sex as soon as the kids go to bed. This story and the woo-girls mean yes.

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I got no problem with GGW but I wish it was GGG instead. And by GGG I mean what’s up Dark Sock.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSRQCMq1gB8

4:47 pm November, 26 Duck Duck Douche said...

That reminds me…time to clean the basement and polish the shackles.

.

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what?

5:57 pm November, 26 Et Tu Douche? said...

#2’s firm, ripe, magenta lace ensconced jigglers along with #4’s somewhat taut, man spackle repository of a stomach makes me want to give thanks to all me brethren bag hunters and a speedy recovery to He of The Dark Sock.

.

Trains

6:06 pm November, 26 Scooby Douche said...

2,3,1,5,6,4……

6:43 pm November, 26 The Dude said...

I like these girls. Can’t wait for PART II. !!!!

8:18 pm November, 26 creature said...

i’d chimney sweep al them sewers!

8:18 pm November, 26 creature said...

um…all^

12:48 am November, 27 Vin J Douchal said...

Suburban Housewife Dilemma Pt. 2

.

.

Madison absentmindedly twirls the short stirrer in her Calvados Appletini contemplating the funny little ball on the end. We need this , why? Each husband a step further up the wealth ladder as C.P.A. Wade became Dentist Tao became Doctôr Philîp, Otolaryngological surgeon , whatever the HELL that was (neck, back, what?!?) and now developer Steinmetz. Beverly Hills does have a lifestyle.

.

Not like her youth; horse jumping, teen summer camp cocaine, hand jobs for yacht rides and other ho hum dreariness a life of privilege, but, not quite THAT privileged offered. $600 shoes from Nordstrom didn’t feel as good as the weekend first class round trip to Sak’s Fifth Avenue $600 shoes do now (just thinking of the 212 area code made her pleasure herself in the shower) . Kennedy Airport’s limo service was sorely lacking but safe and she has a carry permit, anyway, thanks! husband #2.

.

No Beverly Hills reminded her of her Theta days. Her bestie, roommate, first sapphic experience and UCLA soul twin Kelly now gone but not forgotten. Her kids maybe , one in high school? Her small time widower she met once calls for monetary help around holiday time. She sends him her pocket change, a few thousand. It’s a charitable deduction since she got his social security number after the third time.

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Pre-nup, not if you want some of this sugar, this 32 year old’s never been stretched out by ankle-biter-screaming-good-time-killers. Have you seen a body after childbirth? Beyond repulsive. Diapers? Don’t get me started

.

Doctors do strange things during intimacy. It’s like they’re trying to find their specialty on you. Her first doctor/lover was interning at Cedars Sinai. He was a gynecologist with a too keen interest in her lady bits, “Thank you, very much….. but let’s put those fingers elsewhere, mmkay?”. Married to a dentist that couldn’t orgasm unless the lights were on during missionary and her mouth open wide. She offered to let him finish in her mouth, believing that ultimately his millions would multiply and this may be something he’d like but his office manager now residing on a lounge chair in Cayman Brac had the jump on that.

.

No, contemplation just made Madison sad. Robotic sex with the “Gray Man” as she calls him privately, usually at a Tennis Club function or the infrequent socials/reunions with her hardly interesting , getting more boring by the month Thetas. And ALWAYS after a lot of colorful cocktails and always let THEM talk first. She’s always unaccompanied.

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Pauley Pavilion still brought a stir watching sweaty , muscular scholarship athletes huff up and down from courtside seats. On Midnight Madness night she gives them to her Mani-Pedi gal’s nephew. He’s not in Juvie anymore….

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“Crushing boredom”, she thinks, “There is absolutely nothing I haven’t done… ”

.

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He walks in, something colorful pokes above the neckline of his white shirt. He looks a little too large in the shoulders, too skinny in the legs…. that color between his ear lobe and shirt line….is the top of some tattoo… is it green? Am I tipsy or do I see some swirly black pattern on his shoulders. He’s wearing no undershirt and this thing is , like, see through. Hmm

.

Attention attained. He’s rolled up his sleeves past the elbow, squeezing a Bud Light bottle like a war club.. The bottom of the rolled cuff is stretching from the movement of his animalistic biceps. He sits next to her and she reads, “Matt, Asst. Valet Supervisor”. His hair is in that spiked gel thing the ball boys at the tennis club do

.

.

.

She wakes up a mess. Head spinning,… this room is NOT very sanitary… and it is way too bright … I remember staggering here, a shirtless man parading and fist pumping and holding a blue tooth speaker box up on his shoulder with the other hand, roilling something horrible that sounded like a dentist drill and someone pounding trash cans . Her naked legs high in the air as he thrusts between them. She recalls developed ab muscles, large arms and a shiny spot on his forehead that she can’t quite make out the shape, a familiar shape that just won’t solve in her brain… something anatomical? …Whatever….

.

.

About a month later she wakes to nausea, wretches uncontrollably. This continues for 2 more weeks. She visits the doctor..,

.

.

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“Madison, The reason you are getting sick in the morning, have an increased appetite, swollen nipples and put on a few pounds is because you’re……………………. ……”

12:55 am November, 27 Jacques Doucheteau said...

#4 is all thick ’round the middle and got softball player thighs. I don’t know everyone’s putting her last. Taut young poon is taut young poon, right?

.

Slightly related, I hit a mid-life crisis pretty hard today. I was at work talking with one of my fellow Supervisors with a new hire; some kid straight outta community college, and looking for a career in the exciting world of exotic veneer cabinet manufacturing. With the upcoming T-giving holidays, the conversation turned to family, and said newbie mentioned he’d be spending the holiday with his mom only, since his parents got divorced recently.

.

Being that we were a group of guys in a blue collar environment, a sexual spin was put on the subject of conversation and jokes were promptly cracked about coitus with said newbie’s mom. Of course newbie was grossed out by the instant visual image of his bosses pegging his mom, and me and my fellow supervisor laughed out loud at the absurdity of the idea. Having sex with a buddy’s mom. She’s old, we’re not! Ridiculous.

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But then newbie’s youthfulness hit me. His mom could very well be closer to my thirty-somethings that to his post-teenagerness. What? Impossible. And we even made a crack about how we might have a chance at her if we were similar in age. How silly! Right?

.

.

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Um…How old is your mom, by the way?

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He answered, and she’s only two years older than myself. TWO. FUCKING. YEARS. Before I got married I dated THREE girls that are her age now in my teens through early twenties. Me and my fellow supervisor stared at each other, realizing the joke was no longer funny. The classic “fuck your mom” joke was no longer funny or effective, because we could very well be this kid’s dad. This kid who’s job we did not but five goddamn years ago. How pathetic are we?

.

So we made him show us a picture of his mom. And she was quite doable. And we told him as much. And that anytime she was interested, we’d totally oblige her recently-divorced urges with a cacophony of pearl necklaces. And he pursed his lips with a mix of anger and shame. And we laughed. And all was right with the world.

.

True story.

1:00 am November, 27 Jacques Doucheteau said...

I changed my mind.

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#2, even though I can tell without a bra her titties may sag a little. And sag even more as gravity takes hold in her mid-twenties after a botched pregnancy or two.

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But I don’t CAAAAAAAAAAARE!

7:25 am November, 27 I R A Darth Aggie said...

I’d hit them all.

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Wut? I’m only older, not dead. Even the homeliest of the lot is better looking that most of the “age appropriate” ones I cross paths with on a daily basis.

11:06 am November, 27 Steve said...

^^ ^^ I R A Darth, as Patrice O’neal once said:

“A beautiful 35 year old woman is not as hot as an ugly 19 year old”.

2:14 pm November, 27 Chris in 'Baghdad said...

Vin has always been a fave on this site…most of his eruditions are more pithy, but nonetheless the man is a scholar and a first rate observer of the squalid phenomenon we know as Homos Doucheous. If I wore a hat, it would be off to him. Well done, my man!

7:12 pm November, 27 Wheezer said...

…..and a shiny spot on his forehead that she can’t quite make out the shape, a familiar shape that just won’t solve in her brain… something anatomical?

.

.

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Even in the fake(?) stories, the Mark of the ‘Bag exists! Kudos to Vin once again!

6:39 am November, 28 Manimal said...

~ Before hitting the long windy mountain road to familial Turkey-dome, I just instinctively knew that I needed to prepare myself with a healthy portion of hcwdbs first… And while I was only hoping for a bare morsel of comprehensively snarktastic enlightenment, I will gladly take a moment to thank the Chef for this lovely story. Most especially for this apparateeef – “…with designer panini griddles and tremendous Jared wedding rings…”

Ahhh, yes, that was truly satisfying.

8:23 am December, 2 THEONETRUEDOUCHE said...

Please post Vin Douchal’s Suburban Housewife Dilemma Pt. 1 as a permanent warning so any young lady who might stumble on to this site has a clear picture as to what her future holds should she find herself in the arms of a douchebag.

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