Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Dripper

A sexy blonde, matching shirts, a pic of Monroe, and a heaping serving of douche-face.

She’s abstract art with boobies.

He’s douchal coffee enema drip.

Wednesday Limerick

A Trust Fund buys many bottles of Goose,
Which helps aging lotharios stay loose,
The hotts come a’ runnin’,
For free drinks and funnin’,
And ignore the greased forehead on Moose.

HCwDB of the Week: The Grenade Tosser

Like an explosion of black fingernails, The Tosser overwhelmed the competition and takes the Weekly with ease.

Or perhaps it was our collective homeroom angel, on the pages in between.

As massa-douchetts puts it:

The Tosser – for all things that are Boobilicious and for all things that are Scrote-tastic. For all things pink push-up and all things pink hold up (nice belt, they sell men’s clothes where you got it?).

Tosser by a boob grope.

Well said, Mass Pike. danny noonan unleashes the id:

The goddam grenade tosser inspires rage. Uncontrollable rage that makes me want to show up at his doorstep with a flower arrangement, invite myself in, the cover all the walls with plastic sheeting a la Nicholas Cage in Kiss of Death and go to town.

I’m working on my rage issues, but Grenade Tosser FTW.

The boobie grope, especially one of such succulent perfection, is what takes this putz over the top. As infallible puts it:

As much as I hate Rosencrap with his goofy grin and orange skin, my vote must go to The Grenade Tosser. What a tool. Before going into his many faults, let’s meditate on this blonde Kapowski hott with her ample Fujis. She maintains her cheery demeanor with stoic resolve dispite the mechanations of the Tosser.

And what a tosser, indeed. He’s such a lame emosexual. Black fingernails, printed button up shirt, big Bret Michaels headband, shiny wide bracelet, a tie in a club, big earrings, a hot pink belt, and the shirt that got Homer thrown in the asylum. Not to mention his horrid hot air balloon head and he/she face.

Excellent rant, infallible. What’s clear is that The Tosser’s boob grab shifted our collective satire into pure visceral pissed-offedness.

A distant second was Doctor Rosenrosen and Gildenhott, who managed to whip up some support. As sir arthur conan douche puts it:

After careful consideration I think that Rosencrap is the winner this week. He is a smelly poo. His filth goes beyond the confines of the pixels on the screen and actually stinks up the real physical world around me.

Indeed he does, A.C. But friesenpoint takes it home for the Tosser, who is rapidly gaining douche-steam heading into the Monthly in two weeks.

no doubt about it: the grenade tosser. the boobies so fine, the trashy highlighted hair, the overly dimpled smile: it all adds up to a primo hot. rosencrap makes a strong argument for himself with sucking on a strawberry, but the tosser’s earring and bracelet looking watch put him over the top. oh yeah, and the bandana. and the boobies.

Or as the bag queen puts it:

His flamingo-pink jelly belt just adds to mankind’s shame.

Indeed it does, my queen. On to the monthly for the Tosser and his Bomb. They’ve earned it.

The 'Bag Oilwich

Rarely does classic ‘bag sandwich formation congeal into one giant splotch of oily goo.

This is one of those times.

I feel dirty just looking at this. Any suggestions on how to end this viral monstrosity from permeating mass culture ideological violence simply through existing?

Crowbar? Fire hose?

Da Bullz

Everybody put your pecs in the air!! And flex ’em like you just don’t care!!

I can’t tell if Tara Reid is hott or not, she’s too decked out in adouchrements to tell.

But I do know this.

Red Bull is a phallus substitute.

Hell or Europe

Okay kids, time to play another round of “Hell or Europe.”

Is this a picture from Satan’s inferno consuming the souls of the wretched within the dark pits of sin and fiery lava of eternal torture?

Or is it Europe?

Or maybe we’re in the green room on the set of Evita II: Electric Boogaloo with the Antonio Banderas stand-in.

Or maybe The DB1 is loopy because he just had a second coffee and can’t find his socks.

He Just Bangs Bitches and Drinks

From Facebook:

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first off bitch I aint white..second off I ain’t payin for no sex I rather buy a rolex…I like blondes, tanned bitches, brunettes..meh..yah meh..haters not welcome…gold diggers and stuck up bitches take a hike…I definitely don’t have time for people who don’t got time for me…I’m not down to earth..think of me as a bastard that can only please you sexually…I got mad money but I don’t tell anyone…simply don’t be messing that pleasure business s@#t together know what I mean? Or as camron says “ya dig?” I aim high and shoot for higher…college is a big waste of time and I just bang bitches and drink….I drink and smoke..you too? then we gonna get it on tonight… I don’t give a s@#t about stupid people…I don’t chase girls I replace em….yes reread…I don’t chase girls I replace em…reread….many fish in the sea…but one me…and if ur readin this sayin damn this kid is he serious? Yes im serious …i dont need ur approval to say wat i want…capo status..my advice to you cut it, cook it, sell it bitch…now 1, 2, 3 pop bottles
—-

Reread, indeed.

And yet, there’s something beautiful there. Short machine-gun like rants. A chop chop cadence. Tone poetry brought to life with the short staccato rhythms and sing-song lyricisms of the working class proletariat. It’s modernist absurdist 1920s Left Bank avant-gardism, a neo-Marxian cry wrapped in class culture backwash. Jorge Luis Borges dipped in Bunuel by way of pop inflected Beastie Boys hallucinogens and a dash of Andrew Dice Clay.

Or else it just sucks.

Sarah Connor Writes In

Retro Hippie Sarah Connor writes in:

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Hi my name is (Sarah Connor) and there is a picture of me on your webpage…i would really appreaciate it if you would please take it off because i really really dont like the guy im in the picture with.

If you really want to make fun of him just crop me out or something! thanks!
—-

Oh Sarah, future Hott of the Great War Against the Douchines. I cannot make fun of the Terminatorbag without the hott to counterbalance the cyborgian douchitude.

So instead, here’s a group of hipster flush livin’ it up, Wyld Stallyns style.

Where's Waldouche: Generic Frat Edition

Somewhere, hidden within this Krappa Stata Schoola sorority scrum, I’ve hidden a Fratty Wald.

Look closely.

Can you find him?

Bonus points for spotting Ubiquitous Red Cup.
Extra bonus points for Rare Blue Cup.

Super Bonus Points for a pic of the two pouty brunettes kissing.

Wall Street McSilk

Is there something in a late 40s stockbroker’s mind that wakes up one morning thinks to itself, Ya know, I feel like wearing a black silk tube top out tonight.

And if so, can someone break out the Yupaway Spray?

Ukranian Svenga looks like all those Hallo! I like your profile. I am bored tonite and want to chat. spam-mails come to singular glorious phantasmic life.