Homeless Phil Collins Finishes Up His Set at the Worcester Dew Drop Inn
Hmm… maybe we should change the name to Zombie Phil Collins.
Juanita may have been impressed by the second set from Phil’s Bon Jovi tribute band, Slippery When Dry, performing nightly at the Worcester Dew Drop Inn. But Juanita still has to get up early for her final interview to become a flight attendant for Air Tran Miami.
So as much game as that paisley hat brings you, H.P.C., you’re still going back to the Motel 6 with only your tax lien paperwork to comfort you.
Hiphop Hennie Makes A Halfhearted Effort
Lethargic rocker horns suggest that Hiphop Hennie’s heart just isn’t into hitting on suburban librarian hotts at the club like it once was.
Maybe it was Aunt Jennie’s talk over Thankgiving about going back to a trade school after he finished his G.E.D.
Bored Hiphop Hennie don’t know. But somethin’s naggin’ him and it ain’t just his itchy lobes. Maybe Aunt Jennie was right. Maybe the DJ thing wasn’t such a great idea, yo.
Oh Carol from Marketing. I see you at Chachkis and then at Flingers. I stalk you in the Initech parking lot. Someday, I will invent my own pet rock and take us away from this suburban malaise.
HCwDB of the Week: Gynochin and Brunette Rhea
One change I’ve decided on for 2011 is we’re gonna hand out the Weekly Award without official voting. We’ll just kind of make a collective determination as to the worst of hottie/douchey toxicity from the previous week, and then I’ll hand it out on Monday.
That being said, you all will still help determine the winner. By making complaints, wise cracks or otherwise noting another pic should’ve won instead and I’m a total ninny are all welcome in the threads.
That being said, if you’d like to hand out a Weekly Award because you’ve got something to rant about a particular pic and want to mock it with front page aplomb, email me the previous weekend and maybe I can rotate some regs into handing out the awards like we did the 2010 Douchies. Since it’s becoming increasingly and awesomely clear that the regs are funnier than my drunk ass most of the time.
The Monthly, and Yearly, however, will still be full-on voting time.
So lets start 2011’s first Weekly with the well deserving and punchworthy smarmy stubble chin of Gynochin, and the absolutely tasty and bank account draining gnaw that is Brunette Rhea. Gynochin also appeared, bothering Perky Peri, making him a double ‘bagger.
But Rhea… oh how your earlobes make me want to crotch slap a fire hydrant then crack hump a lemur named Cynthia.
This combo is toxic urbane four star restaurant trust fund living poo.
And so we mock it. And book ’em the first slot in the next Monthly.
Sifl and Olly Interview the “O” and the “G”
The great Sifl and Olly conduct an interview for the ages for you to enjoy on this lazy Sunday with your coffee and muffin.
And by coffee and muffin, I mean mimosas and Frosted Flakes.
Your Saturday Where’s Jerry O’Connell?
Somewhere in this lineup of overexposed pseudo-celebrity attention whores, I’ve carefully hidden a Jerry O’Connell.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Because HCwDB is all up on the latest celeb pics from the something something awards. Who’m I kidding? I finally got around to watching season one of Dexter. My pop culture knowledge ended sometime between Lebowski and Office Space. Alls I’ve heard of since then is someone named Justine Bieber helps financially support Twitter. Dammit. I’mma go back to drinking now.
Friday Thoughts and Links
I don’t know how choadscrotey up the scale Timothy really is. He’s so damn happy to be alive, but with all that stupid bling, undies poke and nuclear sunglasses, I can’t forgive. Belt buckle and fro makes Timothy a solid stage-2. So ye be mocked, Timothy. Ye are bag.
But why’d I really run the pic with the Friday Links?
Saluting Tiffany.
Her meaty yet taught suckle torso causes whirling dervishes to stop whirling and say “Whaaaa-?” It causes lizard hybrids to shed exoskeleton at confounding and exponential rates. When she turns rapidly to the right or left, her torso and boobs make a noise that sounds vaguely like, “gazzzzhhhhbonga.”
I love her. I will name my next pet fish after her right breast. So I will name it “Fake But I don’t Care.” Which is a strange name for a fish.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Internet Killed the Video Star”
American customs agents ban Canadian wigga wanskta fraudbag from entering the country. My proud tax dollars at work.
A fairly amusing parody of the Situation’s workout vid: Douchebag Workout Video.
The greatest sapphic Semitic Jewess sex scene in cinema history is now in theaters. Go see it. At least since that hot makeout scene between Fanny Brice and Molly Picon in 1922’s musical revue, For A Little Hot Butter!
The Onion honors our first Orange Speaker of the House.
This does not forgive Axe’s role as one of the Seven Founding Members of the Douchoindustrial Complex that began in the early 00s, but credit where credit is due: The Axe Ball Washer is pretty funny.
But you are not here for ads about ball washing. You are here for New Year Pear.
And we will begin this new year with the following quality but tasteful pear shot:
There will be more revealing gnaw to come in the weeks ahead. But for now, we repose with quality.
Brothabag Freddie Moves On
Yesterday, Brothabag Freddie got constipated near the Holiest of Holy Hotts, Bree.
Today, Brothabag Freddie moves on. To two luscious shoulder suckles, Shoulder Suckle Sally and Shoulder Suckle Suzanne. For theirs are shoulders of deepest suckle gnaw.
For that is how Brothabag Freddie rolls.
Well, that, and by moving his right wrist leftwards and rightwards in a quick shaking masturbatory motion, and then tossing the dice forward at about an eleven degree arc.
Wanksta Wally Owns a Boat
He just wanted you to know that.
He also wanted you to know that he plans on adding the word “Son” to the end of every sentence he speaks to the ladies.
“Where you goin’ with that drink, SON?” It’s a trend that deserves derisive and immediate scorn.
Mmm… Smiley Brunette with Perfect Posture Patricia. Yes, you. The one next to the overgrown suburban tumor named Dave. How I would softly cup your index fingers between a hot dog roll and an empty box of Mike & Ikes, and whine softly to you about the pleasures of wedgies.
Friday Haiku
Water Pistol Pete,
Discount DJ in Des Moines,
mocks God’s boobie pride.
Wannabe DJ,
Grabs pistol to rob a bank,
A sperm bank that is
— Condouchious
Abomination
Offensive in the Lord’s sight:
Birds drop from the sky.
— Jeff Reed Towel Dispenser
DJ Hep-C Screen:
“Death to King Douchuous IV!”
God save her tatas
— Blinded by the Shite
Blue/white striped boobies
look like shiny wax fruit; I’ll
bet they jiggle less.
— Wheezer
Asian boob gal says:
“See my chest, see my chest, please!”
DJ Scene, not heard
— saulgoode42
Vanilla Ice Scrote –
Squirt Gun does not compensate
for your small package
— dknutty
Vanilla Lice sneers
Displaying the twin horrors:
Chest shave/treasure trail.
— Redouche-Reooze-Repsycho
If Kid Rock’s Toejam Grew Consciousness, Assumed Human Form and Went to Vegas on the Next Flight to Hit on French Hotties
It would look like this.
