HCwDB of the Month: Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Kate
Barely edging the dual eurotrash power of the Chernobros and Cathy, the power of waterproof hair gel, middle-fingerdom and idiotic tatt, while clearly hooking up with the tasty hottapii that is Kate, was too much to overcome.
And don’t forget Joey Lumpcrustowitz Gives You the Finger.
Heinous vegas douchery.
All that this site was established to fight against.
The voters speak:
The Dude: I gotta give the nod (slap) to Joey Lumps and the arched-back Kate FTW. Lumpy is absolutely sure he made the right choices at the tattoo parlor, and for that, we’ll probably have to consider him once again in December.
FoghornLeghorn: Joey L. and Kate, for sure. I find myself imagining that she discarded her bikini bottom for this photo, and she is whispering my name in Joey’s ear.
DoucheyWallnuts: Joey Lumpcrustowitz, and his perfectly compatible bleeth ‘cuz he makes me hate. He exhibits each and every loathsome quality possible – do I really need to point them out? – and STDs ooze from his every pore.
Douchie Spellcheck: You can tell from the arch in her back that my aforesaid 12-inch-tounge has found Kate’s magic button. (“That tickles!” she coos.)
Vin Douchal: has to be for Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Kate FTW as he outsmugs the smuggest smugster that ever smugged his mealy way into our consciousness. You can’t unsee his horrible tatts nor the massive head trauma expression of a diaper wearing mental patient post-diaper filling.
Scrotation Marks: The fact that you were even able to scroll down after Joey and Kate means you are more a man than I. They define HCwDB and as such, get my vote. Two Scrote Marks up high.
Ted Brogan: Joey and Kate for sure. Pearielle is too leathery. Right Chernobro is wearing a plain t-shirt and Kathy is not what would be considered “hot.” Ivan, you put up a good fight. And your website definitely helped. But you are self-aware of your joke.
spmock: Joey and Kate make me want to do the Vulcan death pinch on myself. So yes, they win.
RAPETIME: May his twenty-pound watch drag him to the bottom of the pool, which will have to drained and sterilized afterwards. But it will all be worth it.
ehcuodouche: Joey is 100% American, Greater New York Borough doucheclown, who takes his two weeks off in between tuning up engines and bouncing other douchebags out of the club to take his special lady to Vegas for tanning poolside, gambling, shopping and spreading herpes.
Capt. James T. Douche: He flips the bird in every picture which is really his only means of emotional expression, which is not bad when you think about his level of awareness.
tall guy: Lumpcrustowitz must surely take the monthly. His semi-pursed lip/leer combo alone makes him a winner (loser), + Kate’s reworking of the term trailer trash makes her an ideal companion (bleeth) as the hick sidekick.
Indiana Choad and the Temple of Douche: Joey apparently flips the bird to the camera in EVERY PHOTO, which takes him over the top. Katie is Bleeth, but yummy bleeth. I’d tap it. She wouldn’t be invited to stay, but I’d tap it.
Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche: How bad do you wanna be a douche Joey? “So bad I can taste it bro!” What would you do to become the biggest douche in the world? the universe? “Anything man, ANYTHING man!”
Mandouchian Candidate: Joey for sure. The smugness and utter awareness of just what a rectalplug he is seals the deal, no pun intended.
Steve L.: of all the contestants, only Joey Lumpcrustowitz would claim to be a male model “just waiting for that gig” from Armani Exchange. and he would probably confuse many a hapless hotts with that line. just thinking about it results in cobalt radiation to the head.
Douchey Lewis and the News: Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Kate FTW! This guy sucks, and I bet he knows it.
army (ret) douche: I cast my vote for joey and kate the bling tat is incomprehensible with a side of retardation
Medusa Oblongata: Getting your own name tattooed on you = autoscrote. May God have little or no mercy on his soul, especially after that awful Jeebus bling tat.
Daggerbagger’: Would jeeus save him: no, but would jeebus pull the plug of this Vegas pool and send the Joester a spinnin’ down the watery abyss from whence he came?: I hope so.
Baron Von Goolo: if I knew within a reasonable amount of certainty that the only way to avoid looking at Joey Lumpcrustowitz’s self-possessed mug for four more seconds was to wrap a coil of roofing nails around a rabid mandrill’s pink, bony pecker and allow the beast to socket-rape my eyes into a frothy paste, I’d swap my Visine for mandrill pheromone faster that you could say “Hey, why is that mandrill looking at me like thaaaaSWEETJEEZUSSF#CKKKK!!!!!!!”
So many classic ‘bag hunters and huntress brought their A-Game to the thread, quality mock all around. However, the dual facial fung ridiculousness of The Chernobros gave Joey and Kate a run. And by run I mean I.B.S., clearly falling short due to lack of Cathy being A-level hott:
Jeet Kune Douche: Sweet Jesus, save us from the Martian Orange Antichrist Twins! Spike/peaked hair stupid sunglasses diesel shorts orange skin undie reveal fake dogtags 20lb watch chin pubage BBBLLLLLAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH
Choad The Douche Sprocket: Joey is all that we on this site love to hate… but come on… the pure, unabashed, cooler-than-you surliness of the Chernbros is truly inspirational. And by “inspirational” I mean they inspire all of us to vomit onto the furry front seat of the low-rider they arrived in. Chernbros and Cathy FTM
Douchble Helix: Try to picture Cathy’s life. 30 years ago, she was “it”. And had been for a ‘just right’ amount of time. Livin’ large. But that was 30 years ago. And she had no second act. So, she’s still out there, with these ‘bags. I give her credit for not being dead or all hagged out, but leather-skinned, blond and half-naked is no way to go through life, miss.
Colossus of Choads: The Chernobros. Simply for their undeserved, radiating ‘tude.
hatealldouches: the dual infusion of eurotrash, douchebaggery ‘tude from these asswipes is classic, tasteless and all that I hate. I want to punch those smug fucking looks right off their orange faces.
FirstTimeVoter: ChernoBros. They are disturbing. The one picture may not depict all that they are, if we ever got to see their full body of douche work…. we’d be impressed? Depressed?
Et Tu Douche?: I’m going with the The Chernobros and Cathy. I do believe the live up to HCwDB maxim. I still wanna believe she’s a milf if not she’s still pretty hott in a out of town for the weekend, drunken one night stand kinda way. Her pooch belly and subtle naturals calls to me and by calls to me I mean I bet she enjoys yogurt glazing.
Yogurt glazing is definitely listed on Cathy’s C.V., Et Tu Douche?. Good call. Coming in a solid third place, but with signifcant support, was the clownish oldbaggery of Sir Ivan and his two nieces, Ashley and Ananda:
Steve: Sir Ivan and his bleeths. Because he’s old, they’re young, and that’s life.
dbBen: As I bite into this chicken sandwich we call life, Sir Ivan is a cold, plumed portion of fleshy chicken skin.
Wedgie: #1 has the hottest hottie. But Ivan really deserves it, and he will have the best chance in the yearly. So my vote goes to the White Russian, #4. Das vedanya, Comrades.
The Reverend Chad Kroeger: Sir Ivan! La, la, la, la, la, kick to the head.
IRA Darth Aggie: Ashley and Ananda: FTW, and by win I mean “those dresses are short and that white one is wonderfully sheer”. And I got to support us old f#cks, so even tho I’d put my steel-toed boot in Sir Ivan’s ass and kick him to the curb, I’ll give him my vote of non-confidence.
Mr. White: Sir Ivan, because I celebrate that old Barry Manilow bag for making it through the rain. Also, his chicks are the only ones that don’t make Little Mr. White try to crawl inside my abdomen and hide. Although they probably should.
And in a sad fourth place finish in spite of the Pear quality, Pearielle and Wankus McHannibul, who probably lost on account of Paid-to-Douche probaggery.
Troy Tempest: Wankus McHannibul and Pearielle fail because Pearielle is a prostitute. And we all know that there are 3 professions that get paid to touch your junk: 1. Doctors 2. Prostitutes and 3. The TSA. Since doctors and the TSA both wear blue gloves and prostitutes and the TSA are easily trained, and prostitutes and doctors make more in a day than you make in a month, that puts prostitutes in the realm of pr0n – something expensive tat you can’t touch. Unless you pay. a lot. So Pearielle is out of the competition and Wankus is pretty much a yahoo who never grew out of 4th grade
Well said, Double T, they didn’t stand a chance. This was Crustowitz time. Lets let Douche Springsteen take us home:
50 years from now, when Joey has no hair to gel & spike up and his limbs are too weak to lift his arm while wearing a six pound watch and his last breath escapes his body at the hospital, an orderly is going to strip him down and place him in the morgue and see his tribal flames / Jesus bling tattoo and think “What a douchebag.” That will happen to no other competitor and that alone should be enough for him to take the monthly. Not to be overlooked is Kate, who may be a bleeth, but there is something to be said for an ample bosom straining against a bikini top.
That about sums it all up. Great to see all show up for a classic ‘bag thread mockathon. Chalk up the Crust and Cathy for the Yearly.
And now I eat Coco Puffs.
HCwDB After Dark: Riff Raff Would Like to Show You His Spaghetti
You seen him on TV.
He leaves the sauce in the packet.
Reader Mail: The Pauly D Bag
Sean writes in with more evidence of the regressive effect the Jersey Shore douche posse’s fame and success is having on the human race:
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This is a picture of my friend Faith. She is a major hott who just started seeing this BAG. She used to listen to metal and do cool shit like MMA, but now she spends all her time with this Jersey Shore Pauly-D wanna be…
His entire lifestyle is molded after that gay show Jersey Shore and more specifically Pauly-D. Thats why I call him Pauly D-Bag!
———-
True crime, my friends. Witness the effect ironobaggery has on causing real douchepuddery in the echo of its discursive wake.
EDIT: I should mention that while the pic does demonstrate a trend worth monitoring, there are a number of self-evident problematics at work in the accompanying email that suggest a more complex discourse of douchebaggery at work within variant subdivisions.
Lounge Lizard Larry Borrows 40 Bucks
He promises he’ll pay you back on Tuesday for the hottie’s overpriced Mai Tai he purchased today.
Yeah, that was a Popeye reference. Whaddaya want? The Pop Tarts are stale today.
And yes, women do routinely wear slips to amateur boxing matches held in courtyards outside Cochabamba, Bolivia.
HCwDB of the Month Voting Still Open
I’m keepin’ the voting open another day, as this is a tough, epic battle between choadosity and hottboobery, and wanna let all ‘bag hunters have their say.
Get yer vote in if you haven’t already.
Lets figure out which of those schroadal violations deserves advancement in our process of collective mock.
Morning Thoughts and Scratches
I spent last night catching up on my DVRd shows. Season finales of the hilarious Curb and pointless Entourage, and a nice Who to cap it all off.
Then I laid on my rug, scratched my inner crotch area with a wet lufa, and dreamed of Kunis Butter.
Woke up this morning feeling refreshed.
Sat at my computer.
Ate a pop tart.
Glanced at Ivan Brosky and Pecsy McGill broing it up next to All American Mandy. Enough to upchuck a squirrel.
Or squirrel an upchucked woodchuck chuck.
Or something.
Cue Rocky IV references.
I need a coffee.
EDIT: Swapped the pic on account of lack of hot chick status. If I gotta look at bropecs with the first draft of my next book written on them, then at least gimme some bobbs.
The Apple Store Holiday Office Party in Macon, Georgia, Was Crashed by Peter
Peter was invited by the branch manager, Barry, who used to, like, totally do shots with Pete-boy in college.
Estella and Sue left a few moments after this picture was taken.
They’re considering filing a complaint with H.R.
Willie The Kidd Discovers the Rare Amazonian Stipper Pear
Remember kids, only the truest of gangsta outlaws wear silk Armani neck kerchiefs.
Coquettish Tonya the Tiger for the most fantastic holy cleavite witnessed by mortal eyes on the site in months. Her soft pillowy dance glutens of sheenic inspiritation send Keltic dwarves on hallucinatory dream plunders of spider frogs and whey.
And the Pear ain’t no slouchin’ neither.
Tip your cups of Train, fellow hunters. There’s gold in them there hills.
The Porny Smell of Poo, Sweat and Tears
Sometimes the wafting, fetid odor of late summer desert skankton and future avoidance in the form of techno music and alcohol combines to singe the inner framework of the nostril like so much putty on a garden hose.
The lone dwarf dances by the red curtain.
And the dream logic reveals the truth.
Don’t Trust Assclowns in Stupidhats
Rosalinda and Manny both had a vision. They both love the Jesus.
