Ask DB1: The Six Pound Watch
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Hey DB1,
What is an acceptable watch-to-wrist ratio for a watch for it to be non-scrote? Is it even possible to buy a non-douchey watch anymore? Have watches moved purely into the realm of spectacle and out of one of function?
– Arch Douche Ferdinand
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A general rule of wrist is that the watch should be able to communicate time at no greater than a distance of eight to nine feet. If you’re staring at a blinged out sundial from thirty five feet away, it’s Six Pound Watch douche-territory, and should be mocked accordingly.
Top Search Queries for HCwDB
From Alexa.com:
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Keyword / Percent of Search Traffic:
1 hcwdb 1.76%
2 douche bag 0.29%
3 anus pucker 0.16%
4 brothabag leon 0.15%
5 deuche bags 0.14%
6 scrump a douchus 0.10%
7 scrotato head 0.10%
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“scrump a douchus”?
The Grand Cafe
Continuing our series of history lesson HCwDB pics, it was in 1895 at the Grand Cafe in Paris that the Lumiere Brothers first projected their spectacle of the moving image.
The Brothers used their self-invented Lumiere Camera to project this new “moving picture” onto a wiggy club douche, Chad, trying to impress two giggle hotts, Phoebe and Jill.
They titled this first motion picture, A Train Arriving at the Station and This Guy Sucks.
Then, later, Auguste Lumiere unsuccessfully hit on Irene by complimenting her on her smile.
The Petri Dish
Interestingly, it was under nearly identical circumstances to this pic that Louis Pasteur first discovered penicillin.
The Natives are Chestless
I feel like Dr. Livingston, embarking on a 19th Century ethnographic mission of medical treatment from England to North Doucherica.
I will treat the natives like primitive heathens who have not yet discovered the joys of Jesus nor the purity of the market system.
Only to discover a tribe suffering from a massive case of leopard skin crotch itch.
And realizing I left my elephant gun on the boat.
Crimson Harold
Although having just met at the Wellfleet insurance seminar, being held this year at the Radisson in Indianapolis, Cindy secretly suspects that Harold has a very large S&M DVD collection involving midgets, candle wax, and a billy goat named “Pepe.”
She’d be right.
The Trollbag Voted
The Trollbag brought his Navajo Mud Toy friends, “Dieter” and “Kenny,” along with strangely glowing Iowa Cornfed British Cutie Hybrid to vote in the weekly.
Can you smile like an Aardman Animated Character while voting in the Weekly?
HCwDB of the Week
This was one of the toughest weeks to cull down to a final three. The selections of Hottie/Douchey cohabit were excellent (awful), and we have three worthy finalists for your consideration.
Which will rise to the top (bottom) of the choad/boobie pile? That’s, of course, up to you.
Your finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Grillzilla
Grillz.
Gilded bling from way back in the late 00s. The age of excess.
Before the Fall.
If anything crystallizes the “ballers” rollin’ into the clubs dressed like brand name labeled peacocks of the consumer age, it’s Grillz.
Toss in the sleeveless Affliction, bling and douche-hat, and Grillzilla is all that is toxic in Tupelo.
Lady Gwendolyn is sweet, pure, giggly and with high pitched, sonorous voice that suggests lutes and malls with sales going on in them.
I would act interested in hearing about her plans to open a line of shoe stores for children. And then I would hickey her shoulder.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Brohawk
To paraphrase the great Buggin’ Out to Sal, we need more brothabags up on this wall.
Brothabag Corky brings true uber-‘bag to the game.
Club greased hair. Chin pubes. Douche-face. Bling.
While it’s true that Viola prefers not to use two syllable words and can’t quite determine a proper dress size, her sultry stare and pink lipstick suggest a raunch factor that deserves applause from all who witness.
And many have witnessed.
Add up the fact this mugging is taking place in a Love Shack waystation on the outskirts of the village where Number Six struggles on a daily basis to determine who is Number One, and it’s a worthy entry.
And I see you, pouty Brunette with wonderful curvature sitting down over there. Just pretend I’m not here, and I’ll only lightly fondle for a few minutes. Then go off to sleep in the cellar
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Dimples O’Sagg and Kelly Hott
Making the third selection this week was not easy.
But I went for the hottness and Kelly Hott as my deciding factor. For she is uber-gnaw.
Not that there isn’t an overpowering ‘bagitude from Dimps. Just that Kelly Hott brings the pain in this worthy coupling.
Dimples brings the white trash kitchen. The spikey pyramid faux. And the pants sag + douche belt that deserve nothing but scorn.
Finally, who drinks Corona Light?
This was such a strong week, I didn’t even include what I thought were sure finalists, Shmecky O and Tracy Hott, as well as Fishlips McSack, Guido the Killer Pimp and The Wizard of Noz.
And while Federico Fellini’s ‘La Douche Vida’ will definitely be up for a 2010 Douchie Award for the Guggenheim HCwDB exhibit (as Troy Tempest suggested), too much Paid-to-Pose eliminates them.
Which of these three deserves to be HCwDB of the Week?
I want you. No. I need you. Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Gerry Parties with the Barely Legals
Yeah, Gerry’s pretty much bordering on a nottadouche (although dog-tag and hat tilt are worrisome early warning signs). But I’m hung over and scratchy on this lazy Sunday. And I felt like updating the site.
Why?
Because that’s four back arch lickable wallpapers in a row in which the snozzberries taste like boobie candy.
New Choads on the Block
Who says ballsack boy bands are a thing of the past?
EDIT: For surviving that video, you deserve a bonus Sunday Pear, Rocky Pear.
