HCwDB of the Week
I’m feeling giddy today. Not sure why.
Yes, the ‘bags are still out there, performing tricks for fish like trained dancing bling seals preening on the diving board swimming pool aquarium show of life. And if that’s a crappy metaphor, I blame the frosted flakes.
Stupid frosted flakes. Influencing my run-on sentences with their tasty sugar high.
But I feel giddy. Because within the ‘bag/hott dialectic, we find truth. Beauty. Honesty. And poo. But before I ramble any more, lets get to the goods. Here’s your Weekly finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Zero
PIC DELETED
Grin it up, Zero.
You are a popped collar of pud.
The truly potent and effective HCwDB pic must involve serious hottie pollution taking place. The Zero has every bit of post-collegiate fratbag entitlement assitude within that smug grin, and the pollution factor is high enough to put this pic in the Weekly.
She is a drink of purity. A holy meditative burst of utopian ideal.
She argues for a better tomorrow. She is the negation of Thomas Hobbes dystopia simply with the power of perky boobies and a nice smile. And when you can contradict depressing English philosophers simply with a smile, you gots some power.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Wally Playah
Yo.
I’se playah.
I gots the goods, yo.
I’se the baddest ass in Omaha.
I’se shirtless and that’s what makes the ladiez faint, yo.
It’s hard to argue with the sort of monosyllabic logic that a guy like Wally would likely produce in his defense.
But it’s the white sneaks that render this pic a Weekly finalist.
White sneaks.
No shirt.
Total douche.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Rehab 101
The 101, in addition to being one of my favorite coffee shops in Los Angeles, is also a reminder that no matter how cliche the Rehab hott/douche has become, it’s still extremely potent.
101 ‘Bag has the wonderful synergy of fauxhawk and chin stain.
The hotts are glorous, tatt free, and want me. How do I know they want me? I can tell. Because they’re looking at me with that look that either says, “Ravish me, DB1, with a bottle of ketchup and a midget named Tony,” or it says, “Did I leave the iron on?” I can never tell which.
So like the time traveling paradoxes in the movie Primer, does the weeble produce fungus?
That, my friends, is up to you.
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
