HCwDB in NYC — Monday August 11th
Wanna know what the rest of this tri-leatherband choadwank’s shirt says?
Come Monday night and find out.
Your humble narrator on all things scrotey/boobie will be doing a reading and book signing of my book tomorrow, Monday, August 11th, starting at 6:30pm at The Cutting Room on West 24th Street in Chelsea.
Admission is free, there is a glorious cash bar with many cheap wines for sale, and I will have copies of the book for sale as well. Or you can bring your own to have it signed.
There will be HoHos and even Ubiquitous Red Cups of Night Train as we pontificate, ruminate and flatulate on all things hottie/douchey in today’s global scrotal plague.
C’mon.
You know you want to come, New Yorkers. Mocking the Hottie/Douchey phenomenon with a group of like-minded friends is a cathartic and enjoyable experience.
Don’t make the DB1 feel lonely. Come say hi.
Exploding Head
Poor Karen.
Little did she know the guy she met working the 2am shift at Hooters would spontaneously combust into a ball of frost tipped douchal suckitude.
Fillet of Fish
Legend of Douchuous Shaved Chest, Hall of Scrote enshrined member and iconic choadwank, Fish Slap will not be denied.
He is on a mission. A quest.
He will find a sexy young thing.
And in her presence, he will tilt his hat.
Do the Douchle!
Da da da de da da da da dah, da da da de da da da da dah…
Do the Douchle!
Friday Riffs and Hand Grenades
So how did Chet and Cynthia get their hands on the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch?
That’s right. Busting the Python references on a Friday. Because I’m on a movie reference kick.
Riffing the pop culture froth and detritus like an MST3K Sliver Surfer on Benzedrine. Surfing the wave of indexing and callbacks through the prism of comic book culture and pixelated noisewash in the downloadable age. Where bodies are canvasses and name brands are eroticized extensions of the self.
Where the masses are confused and the rest of us know that John Mayer couldn’t hold Stevie Ray Vaughn’s jock, that Desmond was the coolest character in Fast Times at Ridgemont and that the only truly great comedies after the glorious Landis Run ended in 1988 were A Fish Called Wanda, The Big Lebowski and Office Space.
Those of who know that all it took to seduce drunk Sarah Lawrence girls in the early 00s was a box of wine and a Mazzy Star CD. Set on shuffle. And repeat.
It’s Friday, and your humble narrator, The DB1 ruminates on the scrotal plague of the nation’s hottie supply and wonders if the E.P.A. will ever get around to monitoring Axe Bodyspray as a national pollutant.
New York is beautiful and loud and noisy, and I enjoy my Bistro Burger at the Corner Bistro and wonder if there’s a bug spray to remove the Bridge and Tunnel crowd.
Crapser The Douchey Ghost
Crapser, the douchey ghost,
The douchiest ghost you know.
Though grown-ups might
Look at him with fright,
This hott will vaguely tolerate him so.
He always says yo bro (yo bro),
and he’s really tatt to meetcha.
Wherever he may go,
He’s douchey to every living creature.
Grown-ups don’t understand
Why this hottie vaguely tolerates him the most.
But the rest all know
That he’s too old to be carrying on like a 19 year old punk and seriously needs to shave that chin,
Crapser the douchey ghost!
Some Vegas Guy Nominates Himself
—-
Just finished reading your article in the Las Vegas Weekly and it was F@#king Hilarious.
I believe I qualify.
And yes that’s and authentic Members only Jacket.
— Michael Todoran
—-
Yes. Yes you do qualify. And while a sense of humor and self-deprecation go a long way towards redemption, you still appear to be ass-scrote. Ipod in the clubs with cig = uberdouche.
Not since RZA and GZA outed Bill Murray in Coffee and Cigarettes have I been so sure.
Can’t tell on your hott’s quality from the pic, but she is giving off a bit of that Julianne Moore in Vanya on 42nd Street “sex kitten with class” vibe. By which I mean I would circle her squares while Stanislovskian her Meisners using the method.
And by method, I mean boobies. Because Julianne Moore has nice boobies. With freckles.
I’d cram another obscure movie reference in to this post, but I can’t see how to do so logically. So I’ll conclude by esoterically pointing out that Anthony Edwards was great in Miracle Mile.
Yup. I seriously need to get out more.
Stupid cozy couch.
The Classic 'Bag Sandwich
You know how those old chrome diners on the interstate feature classic throwback sandwiches to a more innocent time in American history?
Like the Fried Bologna? Or the The Fluffernutter?
The pic featured here is the douchal equivalent. A back to basics staple of the scrotal/boobal diet.
The classic ‘bag sandwich.
Two thin slices of white shirt whitebreads doing dual point grease gesture. Some bling and stupid belts for flavor. A dash of orange tan. A sprinkle of hair gel.
And a confused, possibly Armenian exchange student filling.
Urp.
Pass the Pepto.
Friday Haiku
Group of Circle Jerks,
Orbit hott like ass planets,
Poo Solar System.
Mount St. Douchebag blew
Grease and axe spread far and wide
Much dignity lost.
— crucial head
The Black Hole of Scrote
Douchebaggery is so dense
No hott can escape
— father guido sardouchey
Mr. Snow Miser?
or Rutger Hauer Jr.?
you can make the call…
— johnny scrotten
Kim goes down da shore
Parties with new hardcore band:
System of a Douche
– mr. white
Good Choadlette rocks hard
Then parties with waitresses
Rock music is dead.
— alan hull
Insane Jersey cult
Worships boobs with party hats
Carpet bomb Bayonne
– charles nelson douchely
Reader Mail: Tagging the 'Stalks
Vegasgrrl tags the legendary Wheatstalks:
—-
Hello DB1!
I saw this guy out at a club in Vegas this weekend. Being a local, I can definitely say that Vegas has turned into Disneyland for Douchebags.
And this guy made me laugh. So I took a picture. Hope you get just as big a kick out of it as I did!
Love,
Vegasgrrl
—-
I sort of like Wheatstalks.
He seems to have a good sense of humor, and although we tend to argue that irono-baggery is still ‘baggery, I’m inclined to give the ‘Stalks a nottadouche and congratulate him on some hilarious hair.
Go in peace, ‘Stalks.
