Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Billy Baru

In the immortal words of Judge Smails, “Ohhhh, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…. this is a big one, Billy…”

So much wrong. So much painfully not right.

I do enjoy what appears to be a “HCD” on the shirt, which is only a “w” away from plugging the site.

As to upturned, shocked out, Billy Baru, I’d like to chew on glass for an hour to get his mug out of my mind.

Hottie’s very perky.

The Face Eater

Does his shirt say “Coll,” “Cholera” or “Colitis”? Or is that simply base-15 code for “Douchebag”?

Mmm… enhanced cleavite on a monday morning to make the warm and fuzzies dance around my peripheral vision.

I want to lock this hairy thug up until he throws monkey poo at his trainers. Not to mention the fact he can get a cutie to munch on his face while I sit here flicking dandruff off my jeans. Stupid dandruff.

No Exit

Jean-Paul Sartre was right. In existentiality, there is no escape from the douchebag. They are omnipresent. They are everywhere. And there is ultimately no escape.

Dig Muto the Frog Boy’s rings, tags, glasses, and hair. Megods, look at that douche-face. Tell me you don’t want to punch an orphan after staring at this pic. And if that doesn’t scream nihilism, I don’t know what does.

Say what you will about setting a douchebag’s face on fire, at least it’s an ethos.

Flamed

I weep for the future.

(yup, I’m on a Bueller kick)

Where's Waldouche: Weekend Edition

Somewhere, hidden in this photo, buried deep among hotties, there is a skeezy douchebag.

Can you find him?

Mmmm… Beyonce clones….

Spam 'Bags

Apparently in honor of Saint Pat’s Day, some douchebag is using my email account as a front for spamming so my mailbox just filled up with a bunch of bounced emails. So we’re going to honor spammers with a rare, honorary “HCwDotM” award.

Blow me, email spambags. May your girlfriends hook up with this guy, get caught on video, and end up duped on a million websites.

If anyone emailed me and got a bounce-back, send again.

Saint Pat's Day

Today is Saint Pat’s Day here at HCwD. To celebrate this holy day of douchebaggery, we’ll drink cans of Miller Lite and purse our lips in bizarre and feminine ways.

I have to say, Pat’s kind of growing on me. Maybe it’s the earing. Maybe it’s the inverted “white silk tie with black shirt” pimp look.

But to me, Pat isn’t just a person of indeterminate sexuality. (s)he’s a state of mind. A way of being. A manifestation that says, “Love me. ‘Bag me. And ship me to Peru.”

Okay, I don’t know what that means. But I do know it’s the first annual holiday here at HCwD, Saint Pat’s Day. How do you plan to celebrate?

The Smacker

Come now, it’s Friday, you didn’t think I was gonna let you ride off into the weekend without at least one more bitch-smackingly painful HCwD pic, did you?

If this one doesn’t fire up the existential grill for the weekend, then nothing will. This oily Jersey tool isn’t just mauling a cute little button of love, he’s smirking at you as well.

Are you gonna take that?

Well, are you?

(sigh)

I sure am.

Feh. Time to start drinking.

Nerdbag #155

Okay, I know I said I’m trying to stay away from the budding ‘bags, those potential teenager pics, the “‘bags in training” if you will, but this Nerdbag deserves at least some tertiary love (and by “love I mean spew) on a Friday afternoon.

Especially as I just spent three hours fixing my publishing software, and so I deserve a little slack.

Besides, tell me he isn’t the ‘bag spawn of the lead singer of 80s band, “The Cars,” Rick Ocasek. Cue “You Might Think I’m a Douchebag” song lyrics in three… two… one…

Yale

Yale has that Jason Lee “Earl” look working for him, and I gotta say, it really doesn’t work for him. Unless cultivating that “I’m a skeezy dropout with no job prospects outside of stealing Snickers bars during the midnight to eight am shift at the ‘Snack ‘n Go.”

Sultry lace mamamita has that “early stage teen pregnancy” vibe, but I’d still love her lace gloves in an uncomfortable fetish sort of way.

And that stockings/shoe combo. Que bella. She’s my Sloane Peterson.