Friday Thoughts and Links
As I contemplate Jason Giambibag’s macking on brunette bartenders, my thoughts go from boobies to Cabury Creme Eggs.
Cadbury Creme Eggs are pure liquid crack. Like licking the nectarine sweat-water wrung out of a towel after mopping the perspiring boob of a spectral post-Stairmaster Jessica Biel.
I love them so. Chocolate creaminess and sugary sugar yolk.
I would buy one at the store, just for the chance to well, consume it after unwrapping it.
Here’s your Friday Links:
First off, it’s been an intense HCwDB week with some truly spectacular combos of hott/douche. So here’s your reward. Have some Ass Pear.
Crimson Ted busts the “Feral Celtic”
The Ex-Mr. Sharon Stone, Phil Bronstein, gives HCwDB a shout-out in a column at the Huffington Post. We’s raunchy.
Sports Illustrated beauty Adriana Lima marries 1970s porn-star Marko Jaric.
Holly Madison makes Criss Angel’s peen disappear.
Nub goes shopping for discount shorts.
Voor Marnix en zn zelf bruinende oliën!
Kevin Rudolf making a push for Douchiest Band of the Year at the 2009 Douchie Awards.
And finally, courtesy of Reader Mike, the somewhat disturbing: Poo Dog.
Your narrator, the DB1, is slightly drunk, full of sugary breakfast cereal and tasty Hostess snack treats, and ready to spend an evening wandering the streets and waxing philosophic on the eternal gender entanglement.
May your weekend be fruitful and fermented. May all your hotties be bouncy, and all your ‘bags mocked until they retire in shame.
Where's Waldouche?
Somewhere in this pic of Tri-Hott Car Girls, I’ve carefully hidden a greased up sportscoat Waldouche.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Where’s Waldouche?
Somewhere in this pic of Tri-Hott Car Girls, I’ve carefully hidden a greased up sportscoat Waldouche.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Ask DB1: Over 40
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Hi,
If I am over fourty and routinely date twentysomethings am I automatically a douchebag? Just wondering.
Thank you,
B, PhD
—-
Not automatically, but if you get over feifty, then I’d be worried.
Friday Haiku
Emo Ralph glares, pouts.
Curvy backed hott embraces,
Philosophy dies.
Bleethed-out bulldog dyke
Embraces tender blonde hott
Jimmy eats her world.
– Crucial Head
“Goodbye Horses” plays…
He dances to a mirror
And tucks in his junk.
– Boatbutter
Emo is his life
Maybe he should cut deeper
Holly will move on.
– Arch Douche of Bagbury
I’d nibble that calf
Hell, I’d nibble a cow’s calf
to see her boobies
– IdahoHottPotato
consideration:
use it before you lose it
Raspberry Rogain
– Dimples
Scro Tep
Watching the legendary Egyptian God of bodyspray, ScroTep, return to earth after a transmat device on Mars was triggered by the Doctor, and mug sweet innocent Boobie Suckle Betty, is definitely a lost episode I can never unsee.
The Swirlwind
Like a cyclone of grease, a tornado of sleaze, The Swirlwind blows into town and latches onto any nearby Party Girls with the sonar targeting of complex hair fractility.
I do not gotta have faith, Sherlyn. Except in those tighty-tight shorts.
Which almost make up for sperm-tatts and rosarie beads on your man handler.
Almost.
But not quite.
Chico's Tatt
So, presumably, Chico here has tattooed his mother and father on his left pec.
My question is this: Is the nipple an intentional, perhaps metaphorical, part of the meta-design?
I notice it lines up directly with his mother’s stomach area. Is Chico commenting on the cyclical nature of reproduction by allowing his nipple to serve as metaphor for his mother’s umbilicus? How would post-structuralist second-wave feminist psychoanalysists parse this location of nipple within projection of parental inscription as corporeal signifier?
And more importantly, is Maria’s tongue the cutest, pinkest little suckle tongue this side of the legend of the “Suckle Tongues of Madagascar”?
Poor Ubiquitous Red Cups.
Even they can’t understand the DB1’s babbling on this Thursday.
Chico’s Tatt
So, presumably, Chico here has tattooed his mother and father on his left pec.
My question is this: Is the nipple an intentional, perhaps metaphorical, part of the meta-design?
I notice it lines up directly with his mother’s stomach area. Is Chico commenting on the cyclical nature of reproduction by allowing his nipple to serve as metaphor for his mother’s umbilicus? How would post-structuralist second-wave feminist psychoanalysists parse this location of nipple within projection of parental inscription as corporeal signifier?
And more importantly, is Maria’s tongue the cutest, pinkest little suckle tongue this side of the legend of the “Suckle Tongues of Madagascar”?
Poor Ubiquitous Red Cups.
Even they can’t understand the DB1’s babbling on this Thursday.
Ask DB1: Night of the Living Hardys
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Dear DB1,
I have a question that maybe you’ve been asked before but maybe you could help me find an answer.
While on my morning commute, I was overwhelmed by the sight of a walking Ed Hardy ad. I’m talking the whole nine yards. Hat, oversized hoodie, bedazzled jeans and terrible terrible shoes. I’m guessing he couldn’t afford to buy a car what with his clothing costing him a small fortune and he sat down across from me on the bus. His eyebrows were more sculpted then mine and he had the permanent pout, it was ridiculous. A true douchebag by every meaning of the word.
What was the most annoying though, was that he was blasting his music and bobbing up and down to the beat. Being as I was right across from him I could make out the music quite well. My question is this since there is clearly signs of being a douchebag like clothing, is there such a thing as ‘bagTunes? Music that a douchebag would love? And if so, how come the rest of us are exempt, or are we?
Keep up the great work,
~Sarah
—-
‘bagTunes, a subsidiary of iTunes, is launching its Beta version at Ed Hardy kiosks in malls across America in March. Look for collars to begin popping with delight shortly thereafter.
