new dc low: drunk driving is so, um, hot right now?

If there's ever been anything that made me want to move into a log cabin in the forests of Montana, cut off ties with all other humans, buy a few Dobermans to protect my reclusive property and never pay taxes again, it's this E-mail, which was sent from a mega-douche to one of my good friends:

hey, cool meeting you at Rumba this weekend. You make it home alright that night? I'm lucky I made it home in one piece - driving after 5 drinks is never a good idea, especially since i rock stick
shift.

Obviously, the most glaring ridiculous notion in this E-mail is the drunk-driving reference. More infuriating even is the tone with which this asshat refers to such a serious offense. Ironically, the sender of this most retarded of electronic missives is in the process of applying to law school, which is why my friend, a lawyer, gave him her contact info.

Apparently, however, info regarding law schools wasn't the purpose of this note. Oh no, dear readers, it seems this note was a feeble attempt to e-romance her. And who can resist? Not only a chance to hang with a giant douche, but a giant douche who might even kill you! Alas, nothing spoils a romance more than maiming your date before the first kiss.

The second reason this E-mail makes me sad is the fact that this D-bag (of course, with a capital D), frequents Rumba -- my most favorite of DC brunch establishments. Luckily, however, judging from the fact that this assclown "rocks a stick shift," I'd venture to guess he's from the 'burbs, meaning I won't be run over by him anytime soon when he goes on his next bender.

Seriously, son, your sh*t is not tight.