Where’s Nubdouche?
Somewhere in this gaggle of Barely Legals, I’ve carefully hidden HCwDB fan favorite fratdouche, Nub.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Bonus points for finding The Office’s John Krazinski.
DJ Jazzy Jerz
DJ Jazzy Jerz has a message for all the kid who want to be like him some day.
Be cool! Studys hard! Stays in School! Yo, do I get paid extra for being all public service and shit?
Whoops, that last part was supposed to get edited out.
And, as promised, here’s your Tuesday Ass Pear: Pocahontas Pear.
Pocahontas Pear heals all.
Seriously.
After I gifted you that image, you owe me your first born.
The Doucheclops and the Hipsterbag
As Dr. DB noted in the Doucheclops’s earlier comments thread, it was the famous greek poet Homey who first recorded this apocryphal tale of familial tragedy, religious iconography, and really douchey-ass smelling bodyspray.
That tongue just shouldn’t exist in nature.
I had a whole riff on that tongue as the motivating quest for Perseus in the upcoming remake of Clash of the Titans, but its white foulness is just nauseating me.
Where’s the pepto?
Last of the Preppy 'Bags
And you thought the Preppybag disappeared along with Andrew McCarthy’s career some time in late ’92.
On an unrelated note, yesterday’s posting of groin shave revealing, ubergay E-Blo deserves HCwDB recourse.
Therefore, there will be a quality and rare Tuesday Ass Pear coming your way later today. It will heal all.
Last of the Preppy ‘Bags
And you thought the Preppybag disappeared along with Andrew McCarthy’s career some time in late ’92.
On an unrelated note, yesterday’s posting of groin shave revealing, ubergay E-Blo deserves HCwDB recourse.
Therefore, there will be a quality and rare Tuesday Ass Pear coming your way later today. It will heal all.
Welcome to HCwDB!
HCwDB is getting a bunch of new readers lately, and if you’re new, I’d like to take a moment to welcome you to the hottie/douchey dialectics.
Come for the douchebags. Stay for the boobies.
You may ask: What about the people in the pics? Isn’t it mean to make fun of them?
What you must realize is that the people in these pics do not exist. Once we reclaim them and tag them our own, the image ceases to be linked to its originary past and becomes a fully denatured abstraction, a hallucination that echoes the real only in the most superficial of senses.
The hottie/douchey dialectics are our spectral Rorshach test. Our deepest mirror stage, refracting the Primal Scene through the lens of the name-brand cultural capital of the mass media age.
We pluck the “image” from the ether. We recontextualize its meaning through collective participation. And, in so doing, our oppositional phantasm generates a completely new meaning devoid of the singular authorial intent of those nominally “in” the pictures we mark our own.
Over time, many linguistic short cuts have developed to describe the many permutations of choadscrote and the hotts that love them. Terms like “Bleeth” and “Scrote” may seem confusing at first. The best way to pick up the language is to either read the admittedly outdated FAQ, or to buy the HCwDB book, which has a glossary of terms in the back.
Or just keep reading.
All will become clear in due time.
The Doucheclops
The Doucheclops always gets left out of abridged versions of the required high school text, Douchelysses.
Meanwhile, Shen Chi reconsiders her decision to enroll in the Mail Order Bride program.
Even though it brought honor to her father’s village in northern Xianpieu, guaranteeing an extra rice shipment per fortnight for the elders to barter with for grain, razors and shoelaces.
The Eurobrow
Hey Uter, why the long face?
Mmm… I would lightly spritz honeydew scented holy water stolen from the natural springs of Lourdes uponst Monica’s soft, supple bosoms, and then weep silently into my childhood blankie until she checked her Swiss-to-English dictionary for the words for “where is the nearest taxi stand?”
Linguini Frank
Linguini Frank reminds us that musician shlurds mugging the hotts continues into the New Year.
We can relax. But we must remain vigilant.
Mary Anne Sue-Jane Smithjohnson on the right wants to spank my debutante plantation.
And who am I to argue with an aristocrat?
Christmas Nub on HCwDB
Old friend of HCwDB, Nub, is gettin’ his Christmas chin pubes on.
No HCwDB of the Week this week. Your humble narrator is in New York, enjoying tasty pastries at Veniero’s and quality pizza at Lombardi’s.
However, questions from the 2009 Douchies remain.
Did the fact The Poopaloompa went home without a trophy represent the worst miscarriage in awards show history since Scorsese’s Raging Bull lost the Best Director Oscar to Robert Redford for the craptastic Ordinary People?
Perhaps.
But we do have an answer for the most troubling question of all of 2009: What in the world could possibly make E-Blo brake his soulless stare and actually smile?: Why, greasing up with a bunch of dudes, of course. (warning: Pic is ubergay)
I know. Not fair to hit you with greased up smiling E-Blo so early on a Monday. Don’t you fret. There’s some good pics that have come in recently, and I’ll be running ’em as we lead into Christmas.
