Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Long Overdue Death of Ed Hardy

Speaking of famous deaths, we’ve been tracking the rise, saturation, douche pollution, and eventual decline of the worst and most garish of Douche offenders, Ed Hardy. And no, I do not mean the actual Ed Hardy (pictured here). I mean the brand. Created by this guy.

Now we cheer as this overpriced tatt/t-shirt hybrid monstrosity recedes, finally, into the past. Whereas once Ed Hardy and Christian Audiger fought over douchal profits, they now go their separate ways. A cultural blight akin to the 1917 influenza outbreak, Smallpox, and Hitler, slowly meets its demise.

I can’t help but feel our work here at HCwDB has done good for the universe when the New York Post writes an article about the douchification of Ed Hardy. Sure, a link or credit to HCwDB would be nice when articles read like I wrote them. But I’ve long since given up hoping for credit from fellow writers. Apparently if it’s live performance it’s yours forever, but if it’s on the internet, anyone can repeat it as their own! Them’s the rules of the internet age.

But lets be clear about this.

No, DListed and Yahoo, Jon Gosselin did not kill Ed Hardy. HCwDB, and the regs who brought the mock for so many years, did. There, I said it. I take pride in my life’s work, and all of your contributions to the cultural shift.

RIP James Gandolfini

So it’s apparently true that James Gandolfini died of a heart attack today at the age of 51 while in Italy.

Given I’d just polished off some tasty pasta carbonara, washed down with some Mr. Pibb, this is a totally crappy coda to that otherwise enjoyable meal.

I have no idea why I’m bringing up my most recent meal. Maybe because Tony Soprano ate so much on the Sopranos, and so I associate Gandolfini with eating.

Anyways, RIP Tony Soprano. A great actor.

You were the best.

Roland The Douchey Thompson Gunner

Bottle of Bubbly: $1200

Reserved booth at trendy Vegas Strip: $1500

Groin itch to last a lifetime: Priceless

Trent's Chinatown Birthday Bash Will End in Frustration

For little does Trent know, but Myen Shii is Paid-to-Pose, Beijing Style.

And if you don’t know what this is, just be grateful you still have two kidneys.

I have no idea what that means. Some of my best friends are Asian American. Do not judge me. I don’t come to your place of business and tell you to stop trading stocks.

Where's Average Joe?: Who Cares Where Average Joe Is Edition

Six.

Hottie Suckle Lauren is Lost

And the Baby Tebus burps on a bowling ball filled with feral cats.

For the Bleething has overtaken and no hope remains of savior.

Only a rapid descent into middle age, suburbia, infidelity and tinnitus.

Hottie Suckle Lauren and Genericus Ted

It just gets worse for our wayward wandering bottle blonde as she wanders, lost, in the forest of multitudinous douche.

Hottie Suckle Lauren Goes Gangsta With Suburban Poseur Fred

Rare is it that we find the suckle hott turn so bleethy in the presence of such a wide range of douchebaggery.

For those of us who mourn the 21st century hott’s wrong choices, Hottie Suckle Lauren is our Church of the Sub Genius. Our holy plankton.

Hottie Suckle Lauren Tuesday!!

Okay fellow ‘bag hunters and huntresses, are you excited? That’s right!! Today is Hottie Suckle Lauren Tuesday!!

What’s Hottie Suckle Lauren Tuesday?

Well yesterday (Monday) we featured Hottie Suckle Lauren and her tasty smile rubbing up against Herpster Juan Assholio.

As if that atrocity wasn’t enough, I got a few more pics of Hottie Suckle Lauren in various states of douche crisis.

Like this one.

With rich cockomasmoker Douchebag Kellyn.

And society weeps.

All day.

For today is Hottie Suckle Lauren Tuesday. Which is not really a good thing, if you take a gander at Douchebag Kellyn and realize, paid-to-pose or not, this happened.

Herpster Juan Assholio Macks on Hottie Suckle Lauren

There are many flavors of herpster rotting the cultural discourse in these lo herspterian times.

Having once lived in Los Feliz, directly adjacent to Herpster Mecca, I have seen more than a lifetime’s worth of handlebar mustaches, artisanal cheese shops, and jorts.

My current status as a homeowner in the low lying hills of Sherman Oaks has cast me to the pit of suburban Valley sun dappled spiritual malaise.

But that is a story for another time.

For now we mock Herspter Juan Assholio.

For all the rank putritude of his everything.

And we honor the sweet smile perfection of Hottie Suckle Lauren. For she is the cheerleader dreams that resides within us all, man, woman, fowl and beast alike.