Beyond the douche

Directing a workweek's worth of hostility at the white, male, hetero, pink-collared-shirt-wearing, misogynistic banker crowd, aka "douches," is a well-established pastime, and not without its merits. But there are other segments of society with enviable-yet-dignity-free lives that are just as deserving of our fury:

1) Fourteen-year-old Latvian models: Beautiful women may come in all ages, shapes, and races, but models are taller, blonder, thinner, and younger than everyone else. Thanks to these recent arrivals from Europe North and East, I get to experience "frumpy" at the ripe old age of 24. No matter how comfortable we may be in our appearance, we are in a worse mood on days when we see more than five examples of this type. It is best to avoid the Union Square area, as well as SoHo and Nolita, if not the entire U.S. Northeast.

2) People who stand flush up against the pole on the subway for better balance: This social group might not seem enviable at first glance. They tend not to be our city's wealthiest, as they are, of course, on the subway. But they have the whole pole to themselves, leaving other riders to either grasp at the unreachable (to those of us a foot shorter than #1) poles above, to squeeze our fingers between the person's torso and the pole, or to do our own version of urban surfing, falling inevitably into the newspaper of someone sitting down.

3) Every last person in Park Slope: Some of my best friends live in Park Slope. It appears I live here too. So does the sometime-heartthrob Peter Sarsgaard. But that said, it looks like Park Slope was collectively sent on an especially successful Birthright Israel trip, as everyone around has a baby or ten. Some parents have the brilliant idea to walk down the street with their stroller-having friend, for companionship that only another mother can provide, thus entirely blocking the sidewalk for those who are not ready for such a life step just yet. Others have the even more brilliant idea to purchase every possible wheel-having gadget for their children, so that between wheelie shoes, scooters, and bikes with training wheels, the street is safe only for pedestrians whose track-and-field event was hurdles. Mine was not. I have no feeling either way about the children themselves.