Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Comment of the Week: Tall Guy

Tall Guy waxes poetic in an Eleanor Rigby modus in response to his flower query:

——
Morning and evening I watch ladies walk by my front door. They’re heading for the train station. Most are well dressed and some are attractive. Occasionally, I’ll seek the company of the masses and sit over an espresso in the posh local cafe opposite the train station up the road, where close by is a small florist’s shop. En route to doing an obnoxious thing for 8-hours and their own survival as well as somebody else’s profit, the ladies often stop off at the florist’s shop and smell the flowers. Then they head off again towards the centre of their lives. The mother’s breast. Their sun. The job. Lonely. Frustrated. Living mostly without sex and certainly without love, working at doing something they probably hate. Too scared to look at my face or into eyes for fear I’ll assume they want sex with me. But off they go, either to the cubicle of work or to the cubicle of rest, where they’ll eat dinner, watch TV, phone Sheila, smear their faces with cream, set the alarm and sleep. Because tomorrow, or next week or sometime real soon, he may walk in.
——

Friday Thoughts and Links

As this crisp Los Angeles Friday turns breezy and gusty with the desperate cries of frustrated servers working at Chipotle who really totally could’ve gotten that part in “Footloose” if the casting director wasn’t such a pidge, I meditate on underfed Ukranian hott.

Underfed Ukranian Hott in creepy blue bathrooms, with succulent pokey poke power boobs, heapings of euro attitude, and zebra purse.

Enough to make Todd (with his oft ignored but great at Scrabble sis Mandy), start to hat tilt and sunglasses hook. You almost had the notta Todd. But hat tilt and chin fung must not pass.

Yup.

‘Tis Friday.

Your humble narrator pees on Hollywood.

Here’s your links:

Reader Stefan suggests we make LMFAO’s“Sexy and I know It” the official theme song of HCwDB. Gonna be hard for me to ever replace either the great Vin Douchal’s “Donkey Opus in Douche Major” or Foglizard’s “Hot Chicks with Douchebags”

Some Friday Zen: An incredible series of color photos taken of New York City between 1941 and 1942.

There have been many movies made since 1895 when the Lumiere Brothers first projected “Train Arrives at the Station” on a sheet at the Grand Cafe in Paris. Trog is one them.

Some days it’s time to chat about Heidegger. Some days, not chatting about Heidegger, but wine. Other days, chatting about Gordon Ramsey Lookalike Pornstar Dwarfs Killed by Badgers.

My cousin (on my father’s side), Lu Louis, stars in My Roommate The Athlete. Give it up for what the cast of Swingers would’ve been up to if the internet had been around back in 1996.

Got red hair and sperm? No thanks.

If you’re ever in Southern India, the term for douchebag is Tumbida koDa tuLukuvudilla. Translation: “The pot which is full does not splash.” Makes sense. Sort of.

Boogity Boogity Boogity Amen!

Speaking of Pear, now’s a good time as any to remember that formerly barely famous something or other, Jennifer Love Hewitt, once complained about being called a ‘Pear Ass.’ Ladies, it may be reductive and objectifying, but it’s still meant as a compliment.

Kim Jong Ill: O.G.

The great, cryptic and mythic hero of HCwDB, the legendary John Largeman, was caught on camera catching a foul ball, Ferris style.

But you are not here for John Largeman Ferris moves. You are here for Pear. And it’s time we go back to a classic:

Suelyn Froth Pear.

Like two fleshy sea grapefruits gargling jello.

He’s Fascinated By Boootiful Womien

From now on, I shop only at Divine Rags.

Friday Haiku

In a perfect world,
This asshole would don a shirt;
Preferably hers.

I would name her breasts
As Fat Man and Little Boy.
I’d like to drop them.

— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt

No shirt, a bow tie.
That’s a look that never works.
Unless it’s on her.

— FoghornLeghorn

Always campaigning.
Michelle Bachmann Junior tries
To pray away gay.

— The Reverend Chad Kroeger

Mahogany gimp,
freezes clubland (and tailors),
with basilisk stare.

— The e’er-present Anonymous

Chippendales reject,
Angers Swayze and Farley,
Afterlife ruined.

— Condouchious

Holy Chest Muffins.
They could save you from drowning.
Or drown you as well.

— jonezy

Prom poster was clear
In bold print “Black tie AND tails”
Not “Black tie and fails”

— Mr. Scrotato Head

Sweaty cuff on wrist
Don’t ask where that thing has been
And do not smell it

— Vin Douchal

Welcome to the Skin Show, Ladies of the Westchester Garden Club!!

Note to future generations: Giant skull chest tattoos may not be a good life choice. No, not even if they incorporate the nipples into their design leitmotif.

Note to self: Never grip a Corona like you’re milking a deer.

Note to Hot Mom Besties Sophie and Franny: You should probably rethink your divorces and go back home to your kids. They miss you.

Breaking: New York Preppiebag Goes Bankrupt

File under “Unexpected Benefits from the Economic Recession“:

———–
Dear DB1,
I just read about this Douche Turd for the first time. He’s a wannabe NYC preppy/player who has no money – no job – no nuthin, AND he’s in debt for $160,000!!! Love it!

Signed,
Pfft
Mostly a lurker, occasional poster
——-

We featured this clown macking on hotties a few years ago and, if memory serves, he wrote in with a series of whines and legal threats until I took his pictures down.

Heh. Turns out that high end pockets don’t pay the bills like they used to. Schadenfreude, indeed. Puppets? Sing this clown off stage left.

Ask DB1: Floristery?

——
DB1,
Is floristry a douche vocation?

While I love a bloom as much as the next bloke I’d always considered it the least desirable choice of vocation for a douche to enter.
I guess discounts on fairly impressive arrangements would be a bonus, especially when compared to the horrid bunches sold at convenience stores. A regular stream of WooHotts browsing the bouquets must also be an added attraction, but I’m still not convinced.

– Tall Guy
——

I like turtles.

D.J. Assholio

Q: What happens to the Assholios you knew in high school?

A: They grow up to become this guy.

Can someone explain what the hell these Pocahontas headgear things are that are showing up on the boobie hottie suckle thighs these days? I can’t tell whether to stalk them on Facebook or ask Tom Mix to do a rope trick.

Yeah, that was a Tom Mix reference.

I’mma go back to bed.

Caption This Pic

When Ted decided to start up his own business, “Shirtless Bros With Overdeveloped Trapezius Muscles Promoting Clubs By Carrying Around Bikini Hotts,” the bank loan officer was, at first, quite skeptical.

EDIT: Props to readers Miss Scarlette and Leon Brothabag for correctly tagging this hott as Bikini Clara from Bikini Clara and Moped Mike.

Pecopolous and The Isle of Slutty Hott

Ah yes, I remember this from eighth grade Greek Literature. It was a short story by the ancient Greek playwright, Cervixes.

I loved the part when Pecopolous ran into the evil succubus, “Smiley Face,” and then on the Isle of Slutty Hott, Shish Kabob lead them across the River of Styx to the dulcet tones of “Come Sail Away.” And then the Sirens of Titan sang the banana boat song.

Yeah. That was it.

At least I think that’s how that story went. I might’ve gotten it slightly wrong.