Category: Dude, Or Douchebag

Dude Or Douchebag: Parking Jobs

Let's face it parking is complicated.  In fact, like other jobs that women have worked hard to master to please men, parking is hard and takes a lot of practice.  In fact in my own sweet-ass, luxury SUV that I can't afford, I'm spoiled– there is beeping, flashing red lights, a back up camera, even another camera that gives me a overhead snapshot of my parking perspective...

Dude, Or Douchebag: Bronco

This week, in honor of the 19th Anniversary of the OJ Simpson freeway chase, I would like to salute the Dudes & the Douchebags that have driven this classic Amerian vehicle. When I met my husband, he drove a Bronco– it stank like day old Big Macs and even older moldy wetsuits (hands off, ladies, he’s all mine) which is precisely what a Bronco is for, enjoying...

Dude Or Douchebag: False Advertising

One of my favorite douchebag moves is the guy who plasters with their crappy car with various "racing" stickers.  To me, it's pretty much the same as wearing a padded push up bra: it may work as bait, but isn't your catch going to realize pretty quickly that it was only false advertising? Like this one: I don't care how car-illeterate you are, no one is dumb...

Dude, Or Douchebag: Pickups Part II

As you may remember from Episode One of DODB Part One, I’m a pick up girl.  If you’re not, you’re simply not American and thus, a douchebag. So stop reading now. Now that we’ve weeded out the losers, let’s move on.  Let’s begin with the Dude: Lil’ Red Truck– in ’78 that was the fastest American car from 0 to 100mph.  Try saying that about your...

Dude Or Douchebag: Car Upholstery

Let's face it, car upholstery has had its ups (any Mercedes before 1975) and its downs (Levi's Edition Gremlin, anyone?). But lately, it just seems like we're settling for way less than our fat asses deserve. There was a time, not so long ago, that being a Dude with your car interior was easy, because that's how it came off the line (cue Barry White):...

Dude, Or Douchebag: Vanity Plates

In LA, vanity plates are the low hanging fruit of car commentary. They’re like Disney movies– absolutely everywhere and consistently ridiculous.  However, like Disney movies– they always make me smile, even if just to think “our country has officially gone to hell.” Lots of people get a vanity plate to let you know what they do for a living: Which I’ve never understood– do they...