Friday Thoughts and Links
Clownbags + Barely Legal Hotts + iPhones – Dignity = HCwDB
Your humble salivator is doing a three day juice cleanse. Yup. I’ve gone Hollywood, baby. Gotta do something to get all the cheap Five Guys burgers, four gallons of Night Train wine, and various sundry Trader Joes cookie treats I’ve consumed over the past few months outta my system.
So I’se drinking a lot of green shite that tastes like roasted ferret turd.
Judge me if you must. But the pooper needs a break.
Wait, that didn’t sound right.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: I don’t have a quote but mmmm…. Amanda Peet.
Parents who get it.
Turns out recently boobscarred Champagne Katie has a far less Bleethed sister. We’ll call her Champagne Kelly. Unfortunately, Champagne Kelly has an equal predilection for the ‘bags.
Say Jim, that’s a boatload of hottness!
Chuck Norris, American douchebag. A thousand year apocalypse only happens if the Greico and the Bleeth have a child together, don’t you know that Chuck?
Goldblum lives the dream for all of us Hebrew school boys.
But you are not here for Snooki smell. You are here for Pear:
Not enough? Okay, one more, because you’ve been good:
Now go forth and undo all that has been wrought.
Undies-Poke Ramon Bothers Jennifer
Although it’s hard to say which douchetribute of Undies-Poke Ramon bothers Jennifer more. Is it the ridiculous undies-poke?
The Ed Hardy faux sleeve tatt?
Or the fact that Undies-Poke Ramon gives the camera the same “tough guy” glare in every pic?
Jennifer’s taut milkshake leg suckle paddles the Baby Tebus with a hopeful swat.
Friday Haiku
Kandi Kane enjoys
Her new ‘bag stereo:
In Douche 2.0
This situation
Has ruined any hope of
Legalization
— Capt. James T. Douche
Even Jane Goodall
couldn’t wrap her mind around
this social construct.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
The Clit/Hemp combo
Is not enough to rouse twins
Out of drug stupor
— DoucheyWallnuts
She has stopped breathing
Since the gyroscope was put
In her Chronic Hole.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Pot leaf on her cooch
bondage tape on her nipples
Bad choices ev’rywhere.
— Morbo
“After you bang me
Leave your hats on this here shelf.
These are from today.”
— DoucheyWallnuts
Everything they wear,
think, speak is branded. Faces
need branding iron.
— Wheezer
Hooker on the floor
Ping ping balls fired from biznatch
Might be injuries
— Vin Douchal
Peter Pumpin'Head is a Cumulus
When your pecs are larger than the Hotties of Kappa Kappa Epsilon’s heads, it might be time to decompress.
The Wiggas Still Exist, Talk Hip-Hop to Aquahott
You might remember the Wiggas from our classic ode to Shel Silverstein in 2011, Wiggas and the Pear.
Or, more to the point, you might still be seeking out a brain bleach technique to make you forget you ever became cognitively aware of the exist of these white trashian suburban choadsucks.
But they do indeed exist. In all their wigga glory.
And therefore we must witness their sad and skeezy efforts to mack on the ladies.
That they’re now in the presence of taut drinksuckle Aquahott, she of the no-tatts and belly pooch, is only more grist for the godless among us.
And yes, even more pear.
Crimson Billy Forgot His Peen
An interesting footnote to history, “Crimson Billy Forgot His Peen” was actually the working title for Woody Guthrie’s dust bowl anthem of 1932, “This Douche is Your Douche.”
Overpriced Veronica has a cute Long Island accent. But that still doesn’t justify how much she paid for that purse.
The Lincoln Log
I get that Spielberg really wants the Oscar this year, but this kinda promotional campaign is a bit much.
Where's Quartasian Sideboob Perfection?
Someewhere in this pic, I have begun to furrow into the padded recesses of upper boobistan, digging ‘neath the yellow underbrush with only a flashlight and half a box of Grape Nuts for sustenance, before writhing and fondling with twitchy affect in the ecstasies of enlightenment in the form of suckle thigh paddle slap grabble genetic exchange.
Look closely.
Can you find it?
Scenes from a New Jersey Kitchen
Vlad: Estrago! Is that her?
Estrago: Who?
Vlad: Godottie!
Estrago: Impossible! Is that undies poke over there?
Vlad: Focus, Estrago! We must wait until she arrives!
Estrago: (looking around) This kitchen is-
Vlad: Yes?-
Estrago: -made of plywood!
Vlad: so?
Estrago: It reminds me of one time in the Antilles when I shat on a squirrel.
Vlad: That makes no sense?
Estrago: It does thematically to the audience because it signifies the fractured nature of a nation traumatized by the war and unable to form coherency and meaning.
Vlad: What should we do?
Estrago: Perhaps if we wait a little longer, Godottie will arrive.
Vlad: But what if she doesn’t come?
Godottie: Guys, yo! I’m right here!
Vlad: Heavens! This defeats the modernist themes underlying our crisis!
Godottie: Screw that postwar expansion of narrative and start fondling my boobs!
And… scene.
Gay or European?
Okay kids, time to play another round of the game that sweeping the nation (or at least parts of Colorado)… Gay or European?
The gaybag factor is high with this one. Gaybags, are you know, are generally excluded from the douche mock for posing no imminent boobie fondle threat to the hotts.
Europe spells like massage oils, attitude, and overpriced cappuccinos. Let us not go there again until the Euro is cheaper and I get over that French hottie I was dating who I took to that East Village party back who said that thing about the thing back in ’04.
