Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

A Benny Shaved…

…is a Benny spurned.

In a world where we’ve won the good fight, anyway. Sadly, in this world, Benny Bones Betty, Beverly and Brenda.

Damn you, Benny; may you find out that you’re the only one in this group that’s shaved.

Hump Day Haiku

Veteran threads commenter and human Random Access Memory Device, Wheezer, offers a haiku to kick-start this slow morning with a rare Wednesday edition of “Friday Haiku”:

On break from help desk,
Sunil, Hari of Mumbai
both need Burma Shave.

April’s Fool: Ash Wednesday

Meet April’s Fool.

His name is Ash Wednesday, and he’s about to give April a Marlboro dot on her Fat Tuesday. Then it will be a Palm Sunday for him.

Good Ash; Bad Ash…She’s got the butt.

Yeah, that was an Army of Snarkness reference.

Bonus Round: Can you spot the Yule Log in this photograph?

HCwDB After Hours Study Session, With Smarty Pear

I’m not even going to make the obvious joke about getting shushed in her stacks.

Wait…I just did.

Dammit.

You outfoxed me again, Little Miss SmartyPantsless.

Caption This Also

Two “Caption This” posts back-to-back?  Madness!  Veteran Commenter Crucial Head starts us off:

“As the flatulent winds of change lightly blow the remaining follicles clinging to the nethermost regions of his sweaty pate forward, Elmer seeks solitude and solace in the sustenance that seeps forth from Blake Lively Hott’s  festering naval sore.”

Caption This

“Jerome hacked and wheezed in great heaving spasms in hopes that his feigned choking episode would again result in his blonde friend attempting the “Hind Lick” maneuver.”

Alllllright. That sucked. Perhaps: “...and with one final swat of Cindy’s palm, the plastic baby head shot out of Tyrone’s colon with an audible *pop* and plinked directly into the middle of the punch bowl in front of the cabana. Red team wins again!“

Sorry. Final attempt: “Cursing her ill-advised attempt at amateur colonoscopies, Tina pummeled Drew’s backside in a futile attempt to get her VHS camcorder back out.“

There.  I have set the bar.  On the floor, perhaps, but still…Bring Forth The Mock, dear friends, as always – in the “comments” section.

Where’s Waldouche? (With Your Guest Host, Mr. White)

HCwDB legend and micturation master Mr. White hides a grinning choad behind beautiful scenery in this episode of…WHERE’S WALDOUCHE:

“Somewhere in this picture of bountiful, ethnic curvy goodness, I’ve hidden a grimacing ‘bag desperately trying not to soil his swim trunks. Can you find him?

Oh, sweet Jarita on the left. We met our freshman year. I was just a rural boy from western Pennsylvania, and you were on your own for the first time in America, far away from the old country and your parents’ strict ways. You were shy and retiring, not yet having learned the power that your looks give you. You invited me to your dorm suite to work on our problem set together. We calculated eigenvalues and shared meaningful looks. You laughed at one of my jokes and touched me gently on the forearm.

Then you told me how you couldn’t wait for Father to meet me, because you were sure we could convince him that I was more suitable for you than the boy they arranged for you to marry when you were 12. You told me that you hoped our babies took after me in height, but that they would have your piercing brown eyes.

When you went into the bathroom, I crawled out the window. And I stole $20 from your purse on the way out. I’m sorry about that last part. That wasn’t cool at all.”

The Mange in Black

Hey, it’s Turdle Neck Ted!

Cooler than Joe Camel, with twice the toe.

In the background, his acolytes mimic his every move in their futile attempts to land their own Squatting Cindy.

Run, kids; run.  Turdle Neck Ted is a gateway douche…

One day you’re rocking ebony ascots; the next day you’re rockin’ them ol’ DuPage County Dungarees…

HCwDB After Hours: “How Much Is That Doggy-Style in the Window” Pear

What do I have in common with Harold Camping?

Currently, we’re both flabbergasted.

Wow.  Just wow.

Rocky Mountin’ High (Glasses)

The very sight of this pairing would have been enough to send John Denver into a tail-spin.

Tasha is the quintessential Snow Bunny that awakens my Bi-Polar Bear.  Not a metaphysical one, but rather the one in my pants.

Her legs are longer than a Rotary Club speech, and they go all the way up to her soft downy fur…coat.  What warm toasty treats are bundled within?

Well, how would the Snow Douche know? His glasses are higher than Reverend Chad’s last night before rehab.

His glasses are higher than Charlie Sheen’s monthly street pharmaceutical bill.

They are higher than Chef Paul Prudhomme’s blood pressure.

You get the picture.

This was all foreseen in the epic song-story “Bite Her and the Snow-Douche”.

Yeah, I just made an obscure Rush reference. Deal with it.