HCwDB of the Month: Crimson Ted
There really is no competing with an orange middle aged lounge lizard in a cardigan who consistently pulls leggy blondes. Crimson Ted took the Monthly with ease. The voters speak:
Yahoo Scrotius: Crimson Ted. The dude is 40-something, droopy-pants, spiked up ridiculousness. That alone is mock-worthy. But here’s the bizzaro element: he has two completely-out-of-his-league hotts with him, and yet he looks pissed off! WTF? He should be basking in the nirvana of their peroxide glow and angling for a chance to slurp butterscotch sundae topping off those glorious legs. But Ted can’t bask. He’s too angry. And that’s douchey.
Ojo Rojo: Ted. Mainly because I hate the club promoter douche. That, and the fact that I’d really like to give something to scrunched-up-face-hott on the left something to scrunch up her face about.
Hue Grand: February must always be remembered as the month of Crimson Ted.
Grey Douche: For his tireless dedication and commitment, Crimson Ted is already in the running for douche of the decade.
Anonymous: they all suck but crimson ted for his body of work. dude get out of the club and into bed with the new james patterson novel.
Emma: Crimson Ted FTW. He makes me want to shoplift a rubber glove so I can slap my sleeping Chihuahua with it whilst watching Tivo-ed episodes of Martha Stewart and doing the Mexican hat dance. In other words, he is wrong, so very, very wrong.
Medusa Oblongata: A bloated middle-ager sporting ill-fitting clothes, spray-tan, anime villain hair and mugging on women the same age as the daughter he likely has, is more than a douche. He is a man in crisis, crying desperately for help. Screaming, actually, like Stanley Kowalski under Stella’s window. The despair reeks from my monitor like AXE from the men’s room at this meathouse of a nightclub he frequents.
Douchetopia: Crimson Ted makes me want to punch a skinny chihuahua puppy and then do a backflip off a cliff into a pile of steaming shit. That feeling must stop, so I vote that he gets made fun of for a whole month for being so fucking stupid that he fake and baked until he turned purple.
Stupid chihuahuas. They need a beat down for Crimson Ted’s crimes. More votes for the Tedster:
Archidouchies: He’s orange, he’s extremely serious, he has repetition, and frankly I think he could go up against Sam Scrote with his creepy point and stare.
Erin: He spreads awkward like a chimp tossing poo, causing everyone else in his pics look albino and uncomfortable. Clearly, Crimson Ted has the douchtermination to win the monthly. “Orange is the new pasty.”
Shamespear the Magnificent: Crimson Ted. For reminding me of the Evil Monkey in the Closet from Family guy.
Anonymous: Crimson Ted is undoubtedly the #1 seed in this bracket. Therefore, I must vote for him. No cinderellas.
Douchille Bag’Neill: He has a body of work that rivals many in the Hall. His hotts are bleeted and clownfaced. His pointing and subtle undie poking are old-school douche. Of these choices he is Methuselah, aged and defiant in the face of the youth that surrounds him. Loving poo, and sharing that with others. Ted, Ted, Ted FTW.
But the Orange Jeter and Cynthia in 2009: An Orange Odyssey powered into a strong second place finish:
blair: But Jeter and Cynthia are a wonderful pair. Together, their scrote-hott is powerful. Jeter is that dick that always gets the hot chick, even though he can’t afford the leased beemer 3-series that he drives. He’s the dude that hits on chicks on the way to the bathroom, while his girl sits patiently at the bar tearing up a napkin waiting for him to return. Cynthia? Ah, she’s the fresh breeze that blows into the lecture hall at the beginning of a semester of Psych 101, wearing a loose fit shirt that you can see down if you lean in close, as though entranced with the subject matter. Her thighs are soft, yet surprisingly firm, teasing your very soul.
Dr. Douchebag: The Orange middle finger gun seals the win. She might be the hottest hott of all hotts. Like ever.
Captain Bringdown: Oh, sweet Cynthia, I would do almost anything for you. Just name it. Defenestrate your dad for that one time in high school when he took away your keys for coming home late? Check. Poison the neighbor’s dog for barking at night and preventing you from dreams that don’t include me? Check. Hand-cleaning all of your underwear with my patented saliva enzyme cleanser and chewing agitation, followed by gentle drying by draping them over my nostrils? Oh, double ch-ch-check.
Boston Brownstain: Orange FTW in a late-innings comeback powered by Cynthia’s nascent Bleethdom. I said a novena for Cynthia yesterday.
Indeed, Cynthia is a lollipop of delight, and O.J. sucks baseballs. They’ll be up for a 2009 Douchie Award, no doubt about it. Maybe even two. As to the others, Rusty The Frill-Necked Lizard came in third, with Flame Broiler and Candy Girl a distant fourth:
creature: Rusty the Frill Necked Lizard & Vegas Tramp Hott are the ebola virus of douche… quick, cover them with a penicillin tarp before they explode over my monitor. oops to late
Mr. Bungle: My vote will go to The Flame Broiler based purely on the fact that Candy Girl deserves an intervention, and by intervention, I mean intercourse, with me.
But there was no stopping the four pics of Crimson Ted’s collective body of (orange) work and his tasty leggy lounge hotts from taking the Monthly with ease. The Douche of Earl takes us home:
his over zealous use of the classic douchebag move of trying to be ironic yet still conform annoys me to great lengths. His point into the cosmos will reak havoc in my dreams just knowing there are many more like him, even oranger and more douchtastic.
Yes. Yes there are. And we will mock all of them.
Book a spot in the 2009 Yearly for the now legendary Crimson Ted and his ladies.
