Clubaggery
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Monday, October 15, 2012
- @ 3:18 PM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 26 comments
- @ 9:20 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 14 comments
- @ 10:06 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery, Comment of the Week
- 5 comments
- @ 6:10 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 22 comments
- @ 11:36 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 19 comments
- @ 1:09 PM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 28 comments
- @ 8:34 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 23 comments
- @ 12:10 PM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 40 comments
- @ 6:10 AM
- Categories: Clubaggery
- 37 comments
- @ 12:00 PM
- Categories: Bleeth, Clubaggery
- 35 comments
Well Sheeeeiiitttt…
If voting’s this sparse for the Monthly, I’mma just post more pictures of Jesus Blinged Mongor hitting on party chicks Jessica and Brandy.
Oh wait, that’s what I do anyway.
Dammit. Hoisted by my own douchetard.
Loading ...Elmo Hott and Groverchoad Approve of the HCwDB of the Week
Somewhere in the infinite beyond, Jim Henson weeps softly into his corn flakes.
Loading ...Spikey and the Bath Salt Shaker Commend the Reader Comment o’ the week
Spikey pauses from playing his Strumpet in the club only long enough to say “Yo, nice work, Bag Hunters…it’s a 3-way!”. Then back to publicly grinding the societal loss into our collective souls.
First up: Hermit, surveying the raft of 1%-er douchocity evinced in Wednesday’s “Yo, It’s Hard Up In These Hamptons”, opines:
“If one looks beyond the trappings of materialism, the designer sunglasses and fashionable clothes, he can read in the faces of these youngsters the pain lost love and broken homes. And, if he looks further, a set of low-slung milk jugs suspended by a pair of leopard skin tit hammocks.”
Then we have rat packer DoucheyWallnuts, regarding “John Largeman Jr’s Poor Life Choices”; D.W. says:
“I beg to differ. Given Largeman’s ample deficits, I think in this case he’s chosen wisely. These three would be beyond his pay grade to masterbate to, so to actually be in contact with them is on a par with the Ethiopians getting to Mars before we do.”
Mars, he says.
Finally there is Vin Douchal, riffing on “Kid n’ Poo”. V.D. simply utters “LL Stool J”…
It is this generation’s “Rosebud”.
That’s a wrap on another week of the collective mock…we’ll close out with a rare visit from Hall of Pear Queen Supreme AssPear LaPlante...Book ‘em, Dano.
Loading ...Dr. Oz Stunt Double’s poor life choices
Devil Horns Harry thinks that Greico Hair and copious man-necklaces are “SO EFFEN METAL, DOOOD!”
What say you, gentle reader?
Loading ...The Eye of Flatus
Alert Readers (and Reverend Chad): Three of these individuals are giving the camera The Eye Of Coitus; however one of them is giving The Eye of Barely Suppressed Flatus.
Can you guess which?
Loading ...Glenn Finds a New Use for Gaffer’s Tape
That’s nothing. You should see Glenn’s Cat, Glenn’s other cat, Glenn’s baby, and, after a particularly grueling session about his hatred for his mother, Glenn’s therapist.
Loading ...‘Bag Sandwich: Celebrity Wannabe Edition
What happens when a Ryan Seacrest looking douchebag and D.J. Cornholio decide to crunch Giggle Gigi in a ‘Bag Sandwich formation?
Well, nothing.
Nothing really happens.
Except they get mocked on HCwDB. And the DB1 sips a tasty Mr. Pibb and sighs quietly.
Loading ...The Voguegina and Furry Amanda Strike a Pose
Strike a pose, there’s nothing to it, Vag!
Thank Tebus for Furry Amanda swollen mamm. An army of CGI rendered infants await suckle.
As to the Voguegina, I haven’t seen doucheface that angularly pudly since Max Headroom was painted by Georges Braque.
Yeah, whaddaya want, Petrarchian love sonnet creativity? It’s a Tuesday.
Loading ...Doucheborg Will Assimilate You
They’re coming for you.
They get you when you sleep.
They’ll play dubstep in your ear and force you to drink Kristal shooters.
Loading ...An Entire World of Flush
The douchal signifiers of this stenchy Jackalope and Bleethy Hott Nichole smell like Calcutta in August.
I’m talking flies, rotting dog, and a discarded mound of backwash restaurant trash.
Even the enhanced Cleavite on Bleethy Hott Nichole is not enough to soothe my troubled psyche as it faces a Camus novel worth of taint.
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