Category: Dude, Or Douchebag

Dude, Or Douchebag: Nitto AE Day ’15

Car shows.  I know so many people who really want to go to them, but don’t.  So many women especially! Why is that?  Well, in a nutshell, car shows have reputations of being filled with douchebags.  Places where guys stand around waxing poetic about dumb, gear head nonsense and dismiss everyone else. But Mama’s here to tell you that it is all a myth.  Well,...

Dude, Or Douchebag: Vanity Plates (More Or Less)

Vanity plates in Los Angeles are kind of like tattoos–not having one is a statement of true rebellion.  And while most people think that having a vanity plate is inherently a douchey thing, these days, I’ve noticed a new kind of plate that’s making me: Our roads used to be filled stuff like this, the d-bag that wants to remind us how fast, oh excuse me “faaast” his M5...

Dude or Douchebag: Hammer Time!

This year I went to my very first King Of The Hammers. Chances are, you have no idea what I’m talking about. But that’s ok, Mama’s gonna school you now. King Of The Hammers is the country’s biggest off roading/rock crawling event and it is somethin’. If you’re thinking to yourself, “Wow, that sounds awful. Like a State Fair without deep fried pickles or hotdogs.”...

Dude, Or Douchebag: Motor 4 Toys

This morning, I woke up my kids and told them it was time for Motor 4 Toys– so we’re gonna buy a bunch of toys, give them away, and then walk a few miles so Mommy can take pictures of cars. One Lego movie, three temper tantrums and 12 donuts later, we were on our way. Motor 4 Toys is an amazing thing. Sure, it’s...

How To Undouche Your Man’s Ride

Or is it de-douche? I’m an English major, you’d think I’d know. But somehow they missed that during my higher education, so lame. Anyway, I got a call from a friend of mine the other day who’s got a new man. Isn’t that exciting? Apparently he’s cool, likes the same dorky movies and can pull his weight between the sheets. There’s just one problem, his...

Dude, or Douchebag: Roadside Safari

It all started with one, West Hollywood Zebra Douchebag.  Like most tragic tales do.  One afternoon, I spotted a crazy-looking zebra car parked in front of my office.  And it went a little somethin’ like this: So, of course, I ran out and paced around the thing, looking for some type of clue.  It must have a “Save The Zebras” magnet on the side or perhaps the driver side door would read...