HCwDB of the Week: The Limey
You know how you take that intoxicating first sip of Night Train straight from the bottle? Two minutes after purchasing that small glass tube of tangy red wine-substance for $2.99 from your local Korean grocer, you crack the twist off cap and guzzle down that headache inducing liquid and say goodbye to soberdom for the next twelve hours?
I ask because that’s this week’s winner.
Able to wear one glove, make “The Shocker,” feature the frozen stare of The Gator, all while covered in numerous adouchremenets. It’s twelve hours of headache for $2.99.
That’s The Limey. As the eradicatoor puts it in the comments thread:
The Limey. His gaze is so vacant, and unaware of the melons he could be suckling if he would just turn off the camera. The Shocker, or failed piece sign coupled with ripped Dice Clays and enough metal to choke a bear.
Her Hott is playful and sweet, I want to unwrap her and test her reflexes.
Very well said, E. schwagle agrees:
Limey, however, represents all that the douches of tomorrow wish to be. His vaguely drugged up stare and the pubic dribble emanating from his foodhole almost seem to draw you in and refuse to let go without a fight. It’s as if he is attempting to suck out your soul through mere eye contact, like some sort of scrotological basilisk.
And it’s obvious he stores the souls he reaps in his arm, where the twisting nether of fading colors show how many souls he has consumed over the years. And it’s pretty obvious that the hottie next to him is his next victim, lured in by Limey’s nauseous stench, never to be seen again.
You both brought your A-Game verbal dexterity to this week’s smackdown. The verbal shredding in this week’s thread were of the purest of HoHo sugar rush quality.
But let us not forget N ‘Stynk, who pulls talayatu’s vote:
I was going to go with the Limey, but I dunno, something about the way Mark Hamill’s hott is looking at the camera… it’s gotta be #1.
And david douchecovney agrees, bringing the Plato:
N’ Stynk epitomizes the swirl so perfectly, it’s as if I’ve spent my whole life staring at shadowy images of puppets projected by firelight, and thinking the images real, only to be led away from the fire this morning and made to look upon not just the puppets, but the hand that animates them. And the leopard print too. I been made to look at that.
But it’s The Limey for the win. N ‘Stynk placed a distant second, and the MILFs of The Jackhammer barely placing third and confirming that youth-hott is indeed a strong part of the equation.
notadouche presents the case:
limey’s chin stripe says it all, “why go clean shaven when i can make the bottom part of my face look like a skunks ass? why stop there when i can make the top part look like deep fried cow dung dowsed in glitter?”
Couldn’t have said it better myself, nota. “deep fried cow dung dowsed in glitter” may be the choice metaphor of the week, good work.
So there’s your winner, folks. Give that tool a kewpie doll and toss him on the Merry-Go-Round, then take his hott for cotton candy. For they’re in the Monthly like a chin pube dribble.
