HCwDB in the News
Filed in the “If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Join ‘Em” category, The Bellagio held a Hot Chicks with Douchebags book release party last week.
Props to The Bellagio and The Bank for knowing quality when they see it, and to the ‘bags who showed up and signed copies. But mostly to the boobie hottie suckle thighs, for being curvy.
Sadly, the Elizabeth Banks clip where she plugged the site on The Tonight Show on Halloween was taken off Hulu. If anyone can find that clip, I’d pay good money to get it up on YouTube. Or, if not money, craven sexual favors involving hamsters, pre-chewed Bubble Yum and a confused Hasidic musician named “Avram” to supply Kazoo accompaniment.
And last week The Onion’s A.V. Club reviewed my book in a feature on successful blogs-to-books. Loved the coverage, although they did criticize me for a premise that “wears thin over time.” In related news, “Area Man” does something that signifies a small, sad existence, but it’s funny in headline form because newspapers don’t normally report on the banal. So it’s funny. For ten years straight.
Yeah. I don’t take kindly to criticism. Unless it’s by a hott after coitus. At which point she could curse my ancestors in Swahili and I’d still be humming the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies.
Yup. The DB1 is rambling.
Time for coffee.
The Earmunch
PIC DELETED
As with any polymorphous perversity, the sexual can be expanded conceptually; expanding into the realm of erotic massage, tantric breathing, and large rubber spandex pelican outfits greased up with Castor oil.
Ear munching combines two sensations. Touch. And grunt-snorting in one’s ear at an extremely high decibel. This can be fun in private. But in public, it is the sign of an insecure puddle of yak poo.
Note to Earmunch: If you have to symbolically consume your date in public, it is a ritual gesture of insecurity. We eat that which we fear losing to our competition.
And by eat, I mean tasty Hostess Cupcakes.
Poppa Squat
Proving that White Sox Caps and sleeveless vest/t-shirt combos go perfectly with chin pubes, Poppa Squat ignores the lithe blonde trailing behind him in favor of making the “growl face.”
You bad, Poppa.
Now put down Ubiquitous Red Cup and back away from the blonde before someone gets hurt.
The Tatt Vortex
There’s a certain type of tatted up muscle-t wearing uberbag type we call “The Tatt Vortex.”
Like staring into the sun, or jamming raisins up one’s nose then gargling with hot sauce, The Tatt Vortex causes Gregorian chanting Nuns in Northumbria to cup-slap autistic penguins.
And if that last sentence seemed a tad non-sequitorious, it’s only because Nadja makes me want to glide on one knee down a paper mache protoplasmic jello boobie until I land in the upper thigh area, where I will nuzzle contentedly and wait out the long winter.
Sue-Ellen's Shiny Tool
God damn we need some eye candy after that Bello video.
Sue-Ellen has that delightful entitlement air of the aristocratic Brahmin waiting to inherit Mumsy’s fortune while slumming with Ed The Garage Mechanic in the interim. She’s the heir to 400 years of hegemony wrapped in Gabanna. Mexicans clear her plates.
Granted, Ed is only a minor tool. Barely a douche.
But I need some blonde white teeth with shoulder suckle worthy of a boobie hottie suckle thigh to cleanse the palette after Bello. And she is that shoulder suckle.
Being DJ Bellovich
You’re invited. Step into the portal, enter the brain and see through the eyes of Bello. Aka Bobby Batz. DJ to the stars. MTV Real World hopeful.
Check. Check.
What’s that? You never wondered what it’s like to be Bello? Then click not, adventurer. For horrors await.
WARNING: Watching this video causes uncontrollable diarrhea in lab rats. It is the Ringu of douche videos. One week after watching, a phone will ring, and you will have an uncontrollable urge to step-dance.
WARNING #2: No, I’m serious. Watch this at your own risk.
WARNING #3: As with most Bello videos, there are no hotts.
WARNING #4: There is a surprise ending. It is uber-poo.
WARNING #5: If you complain after viewing that you’re now sterile, hate life and beat up a small orphan boy on the streets of Bangledesh as a result of subsequent video-rage, HCwDB reminds you that you were warned.
WARNING #6: No seriously. It’s that bad.
Brothabag Leon Sunday
HCwDB legend, Brothabag Leon, enjoys his Sunday with a paisley mandana, a yellow Ed Hardy shirt, a sad looking mocha hott, and slammin’ isotope sideburns.
You go with your bad self, B.L. You’re like the pumped up Pop-Tart toaster strudel of cultural invalidation.
The latest cut from "Some Group You've Never Heard of, and Will Never Hear of"
Lets get freaky now?
How about lets learn that the flange on the voice gimmick began and ended with that annoying Cher song.
You tools are up way past your bedtime. How’s about returning daddy’s car, dropping the sampler and backing slowly away from it before some homies show up and steal your 7-11 gift cards.
Nice appearance of Ubiquitous Red Cup, though.
Rub a Nub Nub
Total douche in the tub.
The Nubster is getting bolder by the hour. But at least he’s switched from Mountain Dew jammies to a free Heineken t-shirt.
Broheim!! The sweatband goes above the eyebrows. Not on them.
