Superpud
Ya know, I’d almost have given Clark a nottadouche if not for the chin dribble Hitler pubes.
C’mon, people. Think of the Holocaust. Hitler Chin Pubes are no way to honor the memory of the Shoah.
Maureen is real world unconventional cute. Not your standard bottle blonde or pert nosed KellyAshley. More like the sneaky sexy girl from the Girl’s Senior Cabin that you didn’t notice at first that final year you were at Camp Wakateera when you were 15, but then at Bonfire Night you made out with her after S’mores and felt hot and sweaty for a week.
That kinda sneaky hot.
We must appreciate real world hotts like Maureen. They’re the ones who stayed by the side of the protagonist in 80s teen comedies after the protagonist banged the cheerleader, then realized she was shallow and boring.
Spider Tool
Suburban white people of the world, hark!
It is 2011.
No amount of spider tattoos will ever change the fact of your genetic limitations.
I don’t care if Captain Stuping’s Slutty Daughter and Ginger from the latest adult smash, “Gilligan’s Thighland,” happen to cohabitate in your Vegasian presence for a parsec or two.
You’re still six months away from an assistant office manager interview in Waterbury, Connecticut.
Don’t blame yourself. Pierre Bourdieu has explained to us the broad and complex post-structural cultural determinants that, no matter how hard you fight, will ultimately inform your constructions of self. No amount of douche Spider Tatts will change that determination, Kevin. Now go get me a chicken pot pie.
Loafhead Is Sad
Do not be fooled by Loafhead’s “Hang Loose” hand gesture.
Nor the strange decision by Perky Pauline to lick his cheek in search of goiter-curing citrus after a long period away at sea.
Loafhead is sad.
For the Penny Saver no longer runs deals on mobile outhouses.
Yup. No idea what I’m saying. It’s a lunchtime sugar rush for the DB1 and I’m ridin’ that processed Hostess Cupcake high all the way to Twinkie Town.
Wait. That sounds vaguely gay.
But not as gay as Loafhead’s circa 1982 Jennifer Beals haphazardly torn moob shirt.
HCwDB of the Week: Silverlake Todd and Young Mom Carol
Last week was a surprisingly strong week for fans of the uberhotts. From the perfect angelic slutty innocence of Old Man Moe’s Perfect Suckle Chomp Salina to Headwound Harry’s Lithe Monica Triplets. From Barely Legal Kelly to Collegiate Vegas Tourist Hotts being stalked by tattpud.
We learned about Moob Shirts and Canadian Wedding ‘Bags.
Then there was the strange case of Prickles the Clown and Crystal’s Meth.
But in the end, this site is about highlighting those truly toxic derivations of hottie/douchey cohabit, and Silverlake Todd with his patented Silverlake Stubble ™ is classic indie coffee drinker douche.
And, as we’ve learned, the truest of true hottie/douchey dialectic is formed when the suckle pooch of feminine coitus spank offers a distinctive lack of cohesive humanity by her choice of male partner. Silverlake Todd and Young Mom Carol are just such a cohabit.
Maybe a bit of a long shot to win the Monthly, but they’re our HCwDB of the Week and I’mma stickin’ to it.
Hamsters with Douchebags
Because sometimes we all gotta get freaky with a hamster.
Comment of the Week: Adolf Skroatler Von Baggenstein
From the Old Man Moe thread comes a brief and confused appearance by Adolf Skroatler von Baggenstein:
—–
Just got back from Costa Rica, tried to find a cure for my A.D.D… good God, look at this chick, she’s fine as… what the hell is that guy doing with a mask on his… See I told you money makes you handsome, that’s why my wife fuuu… What was I doing again???
Hasta,
ASvB
———–
Friday Thoughts and Links
As greasy refried beanbags soft serve the hotties a dollop of stupid talk, and the hotties giggle, I contemplate the eternal mating dance on this Friday.
So much has changed in the five years of this site. Yet branding and the media marketplace continue to reconfigure the sex drive as profit in the eternal recasting of douche product as sexual enhancement.
And so I poo on a fig leaf. In a metaphorical sense.
But rice wine and assorted snack cakes comfort me with sugary goodness and primal aplomb.
The sun will rise. The sun will set. And Lou Gorman’s ghost will have spectral lunch in the sky.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “He keeps putting his testicles all over me!”
The great Skweezy Jibbs will live 4-EVA, ZON!
A blog named “Two in the Shirt” gives HCwDB some love.
Emma Stone is hot for Christina Hendricks. Boobs.
Reader Eddie sends in this pic of a Tramp Stamp vending machine. You know. For the kids. In Long Island and parts of Jersey.
Sportsbag of the Year? Brian Wilson of the Giants makes his case.
The hottest woman in the world is currently Rachel Nichols. In case you were wondering.
Star Wars Alpacas. So cute. And yet so powerful with the ways of the Force.
Old Chicks with Assholes. Yet pretty damn hilarious in a just wrong sorta way.
This week in Aussiebaggery: Party at Kyle’s House. Oz hasn’t seen a plague this bad since Bart brought over the frogs.
Speaking of Australian douchebags, enjoy the great Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry in Rupert Murdoch: It’s a Wonderful Life
And then there’s legendary crooner Tom Jones. Where orange and douchey is so orange and douchey, even our Rockstar Leniency Rule struggles to make an exception.
And from 70s Tom Jones, we move to something that goes well with beer, wine and other assorted beverages of choice:
It squishes like firm melons on a tilt-o-whirl.
Enjoy. It is Friday. And Adonai commands rest.
Kelly is Surrounded by ‘Baglings
Pudwack’s Anonymous just called. They’re holding the 10am slot.
Kelly has the glorious smile of eighteen year old youthful Freshman dorm room innocence. It smells like scented candles and Ikea furniture. Endless potential and boobies you will never, ever see. Yet years after you’re married, you’d sell your children on the North African white slave market just for a chance to paddle her anklet bracelets with a licorice stick and cry in a hamper.
Friday Haiku
Flip-top beer goggles,
Come from behind victory.
His prize? Red groin rash.
Spot celebrity
Pillsbury Doughboy Junior
And Gene Simmons’ girl
– Vin Douchal
Charlie Sheen looks on
at these ghastly lumps of dough
they are NOT “winning”.
-Medusa Oblongata
Fliptop sunglasses
can’t prevent retinal burn
from whale’s bleached asshole.
– Mandouchian Candidate
Bleeth makes beeping sound
Backs into four-eyed zebra
Pit odor erupts.
– Claude Douchenbagger
He’s soft in the gut
She’s clearly soft in the head
A match made in Queens
– Mr. Scrotato Head
