Breaking: Natalie Portman Still Dating a Yeti
Okay, a cleaned up Yeti. But still a Yeti.
And sure, maybe he’s not that bag. But Natalie is my little Hebraic librarian princess whom I would lather her shoulders with fabric softener then quietly nose-butt her agent’s cell phone.
So, to honor the hypothetical lathered shoulders of Ms. Portman, I mock the bearded prophet with annoying bling, man-purse and scary jean short-shorts. For he is scrote.
Brothabag Leon
PIC DELETED
I continue to get complaints that I don’t post enough brothabags on the site.
I can’t tell if it’s because so much of douchebaggery involves suburban white-boys trying to “front” a gangsta toughness, or if the Brothas simply look more badass and less poseury in general.
Then again, it’s hard to find a douchey brothabag like Leon here. What with the Frank Gehry designed facial hair and requisite East Asian Hott on his arm. He is power scrote.
So, in the medical interests of continuing to demonstrate that douchebaggery cuts across all racial, ethnic and stupid tatt lines, here’s Leon.
Who could bench press my spine like a licorice whip.
Damone says…
I came over to help you with your math homework.
If you’re seeing this pic then two things have occurred.
1) Google has finally fixed its crappy-ass Blogger publishing software, and I can update the site again, although updates will be spotty today and the HCwDB Winner will be tomorrow.
2) Asian hott’s grease sandwich has many tiny microbe life forms in it that are yet to be discovered by scientists.
But I do dig the little hint of pale hip poking out above her panty-line. It’s like the hip equivalent of Cleavite. “Hipite”?
The 2008 Webbys
I was pleased as Night Train spiked punch to learn last month that HCwDB will receive an “Official Honoree” award in the Culture/Personal Blog category at the 2008 Webby Awards.
Check me out, I’m right between National Public Radio and Wired Media. I would like to commend the judges for realizing that, with the power of a single hottie/douchey mocking blog, I’m saving the world.
Oh sure, some may see what we do here is trivial. As simply the collective philosophical musings engendered by the dialectics of boobie lust and douche mock.
But do not let the scrotal rantings hide the larger cultural transformation. Because when you mock a single hott/douche, you pay it forward globally. Next month the book comes out, and from there, we take over the world.
We are the real Climate Change. And if we get to stare at boobies along the way, then all the better.
The show is tonight in New York, but since I’m half drunk and stumbling around my apartment trying to find my socks and wondering if Preparation H can shrink tribal tatts, I won’t be able to attend in person. Which kills me, because David Byrne is one of my heroes, and he’s gonna be there. No word on if the giant suit will make an appearance.
But if anyone is there tonight and hears a mention of HCwDB, drop me a line and let me know. Or if someone can get a pic of Arianna Huffington with some raging douche like Ryan Seacrest, send it along. She’s quite the tasty cougar.
The Swallows
As we learned from last week’s science article, New Jersey barnyard swallows can radically increase their testosterone with only the help of a $5.99 magic marker.
Although in this case, saline may also play a role.
I would still love cherubic plunging neckline hott with a clipboard and Thomas Dolby glasses on until she quietly asked me to leave, and to take my limited edition Doctor Who model Zygon from Terror of the Zygons with me.
Caption This Pic
Sure, the smart kids went to real schools and we got into The Ronkonkoma Institute for Hair and Makeup Studies, but who’s laughing now?
Mr. -T
I’m a little cranky today.
I can’t tell if it’s because I switched my usual four bowls of Frosted Flakes nutritious breakfast to two bowls of Frosted Flakes, two bowls of Trix, and a large chocolate Hostess cupcake (for vitamins).
But then I remembered a hypothetical exercise I like to practice when I’m feeling cranky. I imagine something that would annoy me taking place. Then I think to myself, “Well, at least ____ didn’t happen.”
Well, at least a tiny lawnmower didn’t shave off the top of my head.
There. All better.
Lionel Itchy
Cuz he’s once… twice… three times… an ab displaying greased up putzclown….
Bruce Jenner's Kid is a…
…nah.
No need to finish that sentence. Too obvious. It’s like shooting Wheaties in a barrel.
But his Hollywood Hott Du Jour (who would love him just as much even if he wasn’t a rich, vacuous layabout with nothing to say and no purpose for consuming food and oxygen other than to produce waste), is very curvy.
h/t The Superficial.
The Metaphysical Hooligan
Eh, I’ll yank that last prom pic because I kind of feel bad for the kid. Instead, I’ll post the Metaphysical Hooligan.
Because every so often a HCwDB pic comes along that’s like having your soul mugged by metaphysical hooligans.
You know metaphysical hooligans. Those unemployed slacker spirits who hang out by the ethereal bus stop near the corner where abstract thought meets conceptual space-time.
That place beyond matter, light and energy, where pure electromagnetic waves come together to form the universal spirit.
And then get bitch-slapped by the utter, undeniable reality of this pic’s huge douche with pierced nipples.
Carly has an unconventional sexyness. Some may complain, but to me, she is that Laura San Giacomo Italian seductress that twinkles my oscillating electrons.
But what vibrates the rhythmic “Om” of the Universal Harmonic Resonance is one simple fact:
The Metaphysical Hooligan sucks alpaca balls.
