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Monday, March 21, 2011
HCwDB of the Week: The Poos Brothers and Terézia
Given last week was the Monthly, we had over two weeks of pubster/hottlick to go through and parse, and the parsin’ was parcimonious.
But while I almost gave it to the ambiguous lesbianity of Troll Dog, in the end, the hottie/douchey dialectics of the Poos Brothers acting stupid near eastern euro hott body, was too strong not to (dis)honor.
For the Poos Brothers are a twin duality of name-brand suckage.
Ginormous watches and hipster stupid hat.
Half finished chest tatts and the beginnings of Hitler Chin.
All mixed with the perfect suckle bobbles of Terézia from Bratslava.
Combined, that’s a toxic combo and a worthy Weekly winner.
In a two week period that saw us run the gamut from Gay Australian Cowboys to Canadian Wipes, the tasty tatines of Johnny Dipp’s Caribbean Hott, the creepy freakshow of Who Wears Short Shorts?, the mating calls of “Asswipius Douchevegas,” and the weirdness of Scoliosis Joel, this was a tough one. But an (un)worthy one.
Chalk up our first entrant in the next Monthly, and your humble narrator for sugar enhanced Trader Joes corn flakes.
Sunday, March 20, 2011HCwDB Turns 5!
Happy birthday fellow hunters and huntresses!!!!
Five years ago, the virtual mock was born.
Today, we’re all growds up.
Sunday, March 20, 2011Vaguely Immigrant Old Man Frolic
In this case, “The Situation” is just mild sciatica and clogged arteries.
Yeah whaddaya want. It’s a slow Sunday.
(Although check out cute Baby Frolic at :23)
Saturday, March 19, 2011Ask DB1: Is a Scion Automock?
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Hi DB1,
I’m in the market for a new car sometime this year or next, and I have been looking at the Scion tC.
Scion is new here in Canada, however it has been in your country for quite some time. From what I read, Scion has been labeled as a ‘poser’ brand amongst car enthusiasts. Apparently, the douchebags who drive them make modifications to them as if it is a race car when it isn’t (it has the Toyota Camry’s 180hp engine, not some turbocharged 300hp engine).
Therefore, if I get one without making modifications, does that still make me a douche? It’s a great economy car that’s fun to drive that has some sport features. I don’t plan on douching it up.
Lately I’ve seen a few 20-something year old Scion owners who exude a sense of douche aura whenever I go to a nightclub. Does that automatically make me one of them?
All the best,
Chester Creamworthy
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Notwithstanding the fact someone is already selling Scion Douchebag stickers, I’m not sure any car is inherently douchey other than, of course, white BMW 525s.
However, ironic Scion ownership is, like handlebar mustaches or reading Kindle ‘Zines, a sign of mockworthy hipsterbaggery.
Without choady modifications, and if the budget fits, you are free to purchase. But if the sounds of Deadmaus (and no, I’m not typing a 5 for an S) are heard from your car, even once, you are to be mocked immediately and indefinitely.
Friday, March 18, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
Oh, Canadian Kleenex Wipes. How you grope the hipster librarian Bleeth/Hotts in so many wrong ways.
It’s enough to make angels weep and bears urinate on garbage cans.
A quiet, humble week for your scruffy narrator. Trying to sell new shows in the wastezones of Hollywoodland, and taking time to scratch myself on the way.
L.A. has finally stopped raining so much. And the gugenzelia flowers smell like snozzleberries.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Maybe you can help me. What’s wrong with my life? Why is my wife sleeping with someone else? Why can’t I sleep?”
An anonymous no-talent assclown by the name of “Joe Buys” makes a webpage. Click “play” at your own risk.
Duck Hunting: Reality TV Edition. Sugar is a badass.
Cracked Magazine riffs in an HCwDB way in The rich dick’s guide to picking up women.
From Failblog, what every industrial zone needs: The Hipster Trap.
Slate discovers the amazing fact that young loser dudes hook up with hot chicks. Or, as they called it in the 90s, “College.”
Take heart, friends, for now even Skybar has picked up the good fight.
A performative ‘Bag hunter in Vegas, “The Gazillionaire,” takes on “The Situation.”
In spite of the world’s many troubles, there’s always joy in discovering that noted actor James Cromwell once played a swingin’ detective on “Three’s Company.” Jack Tripper approves.
But you are not here for spider bite erections. You are hear for pear. In the spirit of spider biting, enjoy:
Where necrophilia fantasies and glute pooching meet.
The weekend has begunst. And your humble narrator is already drink on rice wine and mead.
Friday, March 18, 2011Reader Mail: Jaundice Kyle
Reader Jacques Doucheteau writes in with a Facebook tag:
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I came across this somewhat surreal looking photo on Facebook, of whom no one in the picture I personally know which makes it okay for me to submit for mocking without remorse.
Some friend of my friend knows who they are apparently, as they all go to raves together, which is pretty douchey to begin with. The guy with the arsenic blue lips is obviously trying desperately to get in on the nuzzle hot action, but is being largely ignored as he snaps away for his profile pics.
The party lighting and his duck lips pose further accentuate his already gaunt and sickly appearance as he stands on his tipee toes for the camera. He only wishes it was his hand clutching Erin’s perky swollen mammary cannons, and almost looked like it at first glance, but instead they are roughly clutched in bi-curious Nessy’s disturbingly manly hands. I’m guessing that’s why he chose this as his GODDAMN PROFILE PICTURE!
Oh, Erin. Your boobies inspire monks to utter blasphemic curses at orphans and stomp on baby ducklings in the vain hope to gain audience with the homeless veteran who begs for change a block down from the flower shop where that lily in your hair was purchased. I personally would canter gleefully through a field strewn with razor wire and irate badgers, pausing occasionally to induce vomiting with a swig of vinegar and goat abscess pus, for the mere possibility that I could uncomfortably snuffle through your mom’s recycling until she chases me off her property with a broom.
I dub him, Jaundice Kyle. For his purple lips, bruised beanpole arms, and yellow complexion in the presence of refreshing sweet hottsicles doth offend me. Or to put it another way, f#ck you buddy.
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Well argued, J.D., and your ode to Erin’s mammages is both poetic and astute. A perfect tag/writeup for a lazy Friday. I toast you with a HoHo.
Friday, March 18, 2011Friday Haiku
Prongs of New Orleans,
Mutant Douchewank Jazz Fest,
Kelly’s thinking, “Prick!”
Hi. I have money.
Woo-hoo! I like guys with cash!!
Let me touch your ass.
— saulgoode42
Jurassic Park 4:
Revenge of The Asian Club
Hermaphrasaurus.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
Kelly pulls Prong’s tie.
Now loop it in ceiling fan
And hang that sum bitch
— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
Oooze left behind by
Low tide of humanity
Douchageddon looms
— Dude McCrudeshoes
Job at Home Depot
Won’t happen if they see this
On her facebook page
— Vin Douchal
With most makeup off,
we learn that Ace Frehley was
hotter than we thought.
— Mr. White
Mardi Gras douchebags
Laissez les bon temps rouler
Right over hotness
— fidouchiary responsibility
Sin. Debauchery.
Four Prong flies his flag. The flag
That will taint her pooch.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Blinded by the prong,
Both his nuzzle of drunk blonde,
And stab to the eye
— Condouchious
Thursday, March 17, 2011Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!
From all of us here at HCwDB.
And by all of us, I mean me.
Tummy ached and sugar crashing from too many Hostess treats.
And from Four Prong. Who even dyed one of his prongs green for the occasion.
And from Four Prong’s bevy of Aryan Paid-to-Pose Kellys (APtPKs). Who all have abs. Lickable, poochable abs.
Thursday, March 17, 2011Ab Reveal and Boobies
Yeah, I probably could’ve picked a cleverer title for this pic. Perhaps something involving the wild times former New York Knicks guard Stephon Marbury had on his trip to South Korea. But, in the end, boobies.
Thursday, March 17, 2011Reader Mail: The Britbag
Count Bagula writes in with the spreading Jerz Virus in Britain:
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Dear DB1,
Apparently MTV is the bringing the dose of televisual herpes known as Jersey Shore to the UK…the show will be known as Geordie Shore. Why set this show in the North-East of England, you may ask?
This cardigan-wearing, chest-shaving, wannabe-Situation is the answer. His friends look on in awkward confusion as he speaks of ‘GTL for life’, ‘a Jesus piece’ and ‘bitches’…all they want to do is enjoy a quiet pint with the girls who’ve lived on their block since they were all 3 years old. Sadly, the Solo Bag lowers the tone. A dark day indeed.
– Count Bagula
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Britbags have been there for as long as fist pumping took viral club flight. The Jersey Shore is merely the signifier, not the sign.
Mmm… I salute the Brit Hotts from my wanderings in London a few years ago. Awkward, shy, alcoholic and boozy flirts, the birds of London may not be as hott as the ladies of the Eastern Bloc, but they sure can stumble out of a pub at 2am and then let me pooch their anklets by Harrods.
