Hipsterbag Lenny is Laughing at Nothing in Particular
Smurf shirts. Ironic.
Later that night, supple Pauline will be too polite to point out that eating Japanese noodle soup ironically at 2am doesn’t justify the lack of a recording contract that’s coming. Any day now.
Vince the Archetypal Vegas Douchecrud
Oh yes, young reader.
They are still out there.
Still bothering Cury Pool Ladies with primal grunts of “Yo!” And “You work out?”
And they still must be bagged and tagged for the greater good of the human experience.
EDIT: Okay, that may be a dude on the left, but this sampling of vegas uberdouchosity is too bizarre not to leave up. View at your own risk.
Breaking: HCwDB Legend The Poopaloompa Is Not Longer Orange, Still a Huge Douche
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
Many lesser scrotes briefly douche up and then fade away in pursuit of the hott.
Only the true HCwDB legends can maintain a discipline of scrotal taint across the eras while bothering quality bar lady tautness like Karen here.
The Poopaloompa is just that sort of premium flush.
The Chippenbros Approve
Not only do the Chippenbros approve of The Tardopoulous Bros winning the HCwDB of the Week, they also approve of sentences that involve only one and two syllable words.
Barely Legal Kate doesn’t know it yet, but her ballet career was never really a viable career option.
HCwDB of the Week: The Tardopoulous Brothers and Stephanie McGee
Another tough week to pick a winning (losing) couple. We had Sportsbaggery and Hipsterbaggery. An Afflicted Gnome and an Otterhead. A Happy Rocker and Toxic Groin Shave Reveal.
And, for the hott side of the boobie hottie suckle thigh, the Crazy Eyes craziness of The Carla Cousins.
But no cohabit more perfectly encapsulates mock worthy tardation and curvy bouncy suckle thigh than the Tardopoulous Brothers and local Ace Hardware Beauty Contest winner, Stephanie McGee.
Our last entrant before next week’s HCwDB of the Month, The Tardopoulous Brothers are a fine example of Wonder Twin cloning douchery replication technology in action.
Stephanie McGee has an annoying voice but her bouncy waist sways are hypnotic hipnotics.
Together, they make a fine entrant in the Monthly and a reason for our Crusade to continue, unabated.
And so we mock onward. And your early morning humble narrator shifts his groinal area to prevent sweat and chafing, and heads for the kitchen for a bowl of Pops.
The Real Beastie Boys
There is hope for the future after all.
Ask DB1: Indoor Sunglasses Rule
——
Dear DB1,
I love your work, but I could use your help.
I spend far too much time looking at computer screens and by the end of the day, my eyes were hurting and my vision was getting blurry. I wound up going to an optometrist and getting some glasses. I picked some conservative frames but on a whim decided to get “transitions”.
When it’s bright out, my glasses tint and look like sunglasses. Now, I don’t think there’s anything douchey about wearing sunglasses on a sunny day, but the problem occurs when I go inside. The glasses get dark fairly quickly but it can take up to ten minutes for them to go back to clear.
I think walking around inside with sunglasses is an autodouche offense.
What should I do? Should I take my glasses off the moment I get inside and wait ten minutes?
Your advice is most sincerely appreciated.
– “Cory”
—–
The rule on this is clear. All sunglasses, even the “transitions” kind, must be removed at first entrance to any room operating at less than 20% outdoor lighting, unless or excepting that you:
1. Recently received lasik surgery
2. Are blind
3. Are Audrey Hepburn
No other exemptions are granted.
Friday Thoughts and Links
As Friday drifts into afternoon and Los Angeles refuses to warm up for spring, I ponder Melvin Hunting Inflata-Boobies.
Not just this particular Melvin.
All the Melvins hunting Inflata-Boobies.
Did we learn nothing from the 90s silicone years?
Have we not come far from those bleach blonde peroxided halcyon days of economic prosperity and pre-boy-band innocence?
Perhaps not. But we’ll always have HoHos.
Here’s Your Links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “The supermodels, Willy? That’s all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.”
San Francisco chef Russell Jackson has good taste.
Correction: Toni Braxton did not say “I have a big-ass house, three cars and I fly first class all around the world. Some say I have the perfect life.” For the record.
American Iranians bust out some Persianbaggery.
Mecha Hineyho Fist Pumps by a homeless guy. Come at him, bro.
Clark Griswold still approves of 57 Year old Hottness. “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!” (splash)
The only known photograph of a nude Liz Taylor was released after her death, taken when she was 24. It is a tasty slice of nostalgia Hollywood dreamland Cleopatric suckle thigh.
Almost looks like a baby’s arm.
More trips down memory lane from the DB1’s earliest childhood memories growing up in Boston, the TV ad for the incomparable and wonderful Boston Museum of Science that ran for nearly ten years on local stations: It’s Fun to Find Out!
For the Hipsterbags, a new song: I Hate Your Mustache!
Some magazine writer guy theorizes that older men like younger women because of cultural influence. He forgot boobies.
Now before we get to the Pear, lets first celebrate The Hottest Hott in the History of Victorian Furnished Drawing Rooms. Her shakes and shimmies reinforce a belief in spiritual deities of divinity.
And from uberhott shake, we come to Pear:
Your reward for a week of quality mock. And on towards the weekend shalst we traverse proudly, head high and sack taut.
Russell Has a Cold Neck
Either that or his neck just joined OPEC.
Yeah. That was an OPEC reference. Because it’s Friday. And your humble narrator is stumbling around his basement garage living quarters trying not to trip over the burnt grilled cheese covered hot plate and discovering if penicillin really does grow organically on socks.
But then there’s Art Student Marjorie. Who is still fooled by Hipsterbaggery.
And so the DB1 knows the fight must continue. To save boobie hottie suckle thigh. From having to spend two hours at Russell’s Williamsburg loft pretending vinyl sounds better.
Friday Haiku
Jack Surfkovsky pwns
Hotts at the “Fast Five” premiere,
Shows them “Lil’ Diesel.”
Johnny Bravo clone
gets “charged” standing next to hotts.
“Discharge” shows on shorts.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
Hotts smile two thumbs up
Old man yells “Get off my Lawn”
Jack walks home alone.
— THEONETRUEDOUCHE
That’s a nice car Jack
Nothing says “I am not gay”
like a Ford Focus
— Jacques Doucheteau
Hotted-up Polo,
makes Chad happy, ’til ladies
look under his hood.
— Colossus of Choads
These PTP hotts
definitely “charged” Jack, on
his momma’s Visa.
— Mr. White
Jelly Dong Shifter
Mounted on the driver’s seat
With 5-point strap on.
— DarkSock
Just because you put
Your monster drink on top does
Not mean you own it.
— ehcuodouche
