Are You Ready for Some Douchebag?
Please select the following football euphemism that best summarizes this photo:
A. Is Licking a 5 yard or 15 yard penalty?
B. The padding on the left could stop a coked up 1970s Dallas Cowboy trying to knock over a liquor store at 2am.
C. When did Jim McMahon convert to Catholicism?
D. This brings new meaning to the term, “forward pass.”
E. I haven’t seen two Bret Farves that were that fantastically Bret Farve since my last girlfriend Bret Farved my Bret Farves.
F. The Immaculate Receptions stand the test of time.
G. I took a fend off my guernsey then chucked a spear tackle to avoid the clanger before the ruckman made a grubber kick in the forward pocket, mate.
H. Boobies.
Gnarles Broccoli
Hahaha… bless your soul.
You really think hair fwip’s in control.
Guy Liner
As seen in yesterday’s pic, Natty McGee, guyliner has officially gone from occasional douchetribute to a full-blown trend. And by full-blown trend, I mean this guy.
If he was any more of a nozzle, he’d flood the club.
Yes, we’ve seen him before on the site. But I can’t remember where, and I’m hung over, so I’m going with it.
Now before you go trashing Kimberly and Kelly for having a bit of that Long Island late 20s on the cusp of morphing into “suburban housemom” status, I’d urge you to reconsider.
Yes, they are not urban hotts. But suburban hotts have their own joys. At least, in silent picture form.
Man Junk Writes In
Last Friday’s link to the Man Junk website brings this email:
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Hey buddy,
We have received a lot of traffic from your blog and just wanted to thank you for talking about us on there. I wanted to send you out a bottle of our product if you’re interested.
Let me know, hope your week is going well.
Thanks, joe rowett
—-
Should I sample the product in the interests of research?
Or would I be recklessly engaging in drunken teleportation like Seth Brundle in The Fly?
Would I come out of the douchal telepod alive?
Natty McGee
There once was a douche from Cincinnati,
Who bought a blonde girl a Natty,
His mandana said “yo!”
A hello to his faux,
But his lip-herp refused to get chatty.
Fist of Power
When trying to charm the Norwegian Model at the bar, and nervous that she’ll be put off by your Spudwebbian height, do what Karl does.
Demonstrate the “Fist of Power.”
Sweatpants Sammy
Nothing shows your girlfriend “class” like the shirtless underwear on head sweatpants stain hip-hop dance move, “The Groin,” while drunk off your ass at the Tuesday Night Kegger on Boylson Street.
Megods, her legs are eleven herbs and spices of perfectly toned KFC.
I would slap a Koala Bear with a box of Apple Jacks just for the chance to claim her used stockings at the Salvation Army Labor Day Sale.
HCwDB of the Week: Chumlee
The voters spoke, and the hott/douche combo of Chumlee was too much to ignore:
The Scroatian: It’s gotta be Chumlee. His outfit and scissor-eye pose is supa-douchey. And those funbags on Beatrice would keep me entertained for many moons.
patentbrew: I have not voted often, but I feel I must this week because you have three such worthy candidates, yet one very, very clear winner, Chumlee. What the eff is that hand gesture? Not to mention the melons on Beatrice are ridiculous.
turd ferguson: His K-Fed-meets-Ratboy puss coupled with a single infuriating streak of grey in his hair makes death by falling meteor seem like sweet, fiery relief by comparison. And, oh, yeah, he’s doing the Batusi. Flush.
anonymous: It’s Chumlee – Cut Print, check the gate…
jonathan: chumlee – may he die a slow and terrible death, and may it somehow be related to scissors.
guyladouche: Chumlee, FTW. I’m going to go squat in a corner and cry now. Then daydream of fondling CL hot’s sideboob and giving it chafe marks from my 5 o’clock shadow rubbing on it.
anonymous: Chumlee’s hot is the most boobtastic, but man cannot live on boobs alone. Wait! What am I saying? Of course man can live on boobs alone.
orangabag: I was going to vote the Kreep but Chumlees super douchey Vogue hands make me want to fart in his general direction.
Well said, panel. Chumlee’s annoying “model” pose and Beatrice’s hotness, were too strong to overcome. That being said, there was some debate about Beatrice’s potential for unseen largeness. medusa oblongata responds:
And as far as questioning the possible size of Beatrice’s unseen caboose, let us remember that HCWDB is not founded on principles of speculation and theorizing, but on hard evidence. In this case, silky, bouncy evidence. If we stick to what is encased in the frame, we see a glorious display of siiiiiiiidebooooooooob. I would snuggle down on those pillows and coo contentedly. That doesn’t make me gay. That makes me awesome.
Chumlee FTW!
Excellent argument, M.O. but how is your name not “Medoucha Oblongata”?
However, there was strong support for both Italian Sausage / Asian Melon Salad, and The Kreep. The ever-present anonymous reminds us that Italian greased up bodybuilders pointing at their yang with amply endowed Asian hottness should not be overlooked:
italian sausage FTW. this asian hott strikes my fancy on a level that makes me draw mustaches on all of my fingers in hopes that one of them impresses her enough to let steal her baby cones from wendy’s.
Well said, Anon. I’m not sure I understood that, and yet it makes sense. business casual douche agrees:
Italian Sausage, for the win. The hott is truly exceptional, in spite of her not-that-revealing clothing, and the douche himself… well I want to slap him across the face with a baby seal.
And ceegee agrees:
Are you kidding? It’s not even close. Italian Sausage is OILED. And Shin-Lau’s back is ARCHED. I would lovingly awaken and floss a grizzly bear during hibernation just for the chance to find her leftover Snickers bar wrapper in the bear’s jaws.
Yes. I, too, would search for that Snickers bar wrapper. And Amanda brings the Hottie Perspective, casting in for The Kreep:
I vote #2. That guy is just so totally gross. The slicked-down, no-definition body and the rancid hair make my breakfast crave resurrection. And can we all chip in to buy the poor thing in the middle a sandwich?
But Chumlee was far too strong to be defeated. And by strong, I mean douchey. idahohottpotato takes it home:
Chumlee ftw! I think I actually have the shirt, necklace, and scarf he’s wearing in that photo… and I’m a chick. I want to scrub that K-Fed scruff off his face, and then ask his hott if those turquoise-covered mounds are real. She wouldn’t answer me of course, but I’d still stare at them like a barn owl hyped up on a triple mocha latte.
As would we all, IHP.
Book a ticket for Chumlee and Beatrice in the Monthly. They’ve earned it. And by earned it, I mean silver streak and large bouncy boobie boobs.
Homies in Da Boutique Hotel Lobby
Uhm, could someone please call Uter in security?
The Homies have followed home the Danish Swim Team back to the Carlyle Hotel lobby.
Terry Yukky
Rare do we capture the ‘bag making both tongue and Peaches Point simultaneously.
Meanwhile the curvy arched back on Dental Floss Bikini Hott, plus the D&G Plutonium Glasses, suggest a deep ‘Baguette response to Terry Yukky’s scrotal taint.
In short, it’s the Rehab party at the Hard Rock in Vegas.
Don’t drink the water.
