HCwDB of the Week
Due to a bunch of classic pics and retro-scrotes, we had an eclectic list to whittle down to a final three this week.
But, after struggling with whether or not to leave off Potbelly due a lack of douchuousness in spite of the megahott (he didn’t make the cut), here are your finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Guidics
Classic orange douche.
Yes, I try not to mock the under 18 ‘baglings as much as their adult counterparts. But the age of douchesent in Norway is 16, not 18.
So the Guidics are in.
And sure Greta’s probably in high school, but in two years she’ll be the nanny that ruins Dr. Goldenstein’s Upper West Side podiatry practice when he gets caught by his wife chasing her all over the apartment wearing only a speedo.
Damn you, Dr. Goldenstein. Was it worth it over an 18 year old Danish au pair?
Yeah. It probably was.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Scrote Times at Ridgemont High
Poor Mike Damone.
Whatever happens, his toes are still tappin’.
And while I feel guilt for associating one of the greatest teen comedies of all time with this travesty of a mockery of a sham, Mark Ratner would want me to fight this good fight.
So I call out Damone after 25 years for still trying to hang on to the party-boy ethos he left behind in skin follicles so many years ago.
But Stacy has that South American hott thing.
The type that parties with you in Brazil, then steals your Toyota Camry and drives it into the neighbor’s swing set at 2am.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Zippy
Technically, Zippy missed the cut last week. But only because last week was such a strong week. And by strong, I mean boobs.
So lets give Zippy and Aristocratic Upper West Side Lacy Underalls Hott a chance this week.
Why?
Because I would scramble eggs for the Sultan under careful watch of his food tasting guard, Erno, just for the chance to be paid in frog turds by the angry Nun who once nursed a sick Upper West Side Lacy Underalls out of a fever dream.
Dig that last sentence.
Who said I couldn’t write like Hemmingway?
But back to Zippy. Zippy is a sneakingly subversive douche. At first you think he’s not so scrotalicious. Then the signs appear. The tatts. The belt. The hair. The Son of Ubiquitous Red Cup. He is scrote.
But which of these three is enough to call HCwDB of the Week?
Don’t be shy.
Step up and vote for your choice for hott/douche superiority/grossery in the comments thread.
Sunday Jean-Claude Van Douche
Forget the earlier nottadouche considerations, Van Damme. You are an aging smelly cheese of eurodouche.
I will take your blonde friend behind a podium and explain to her why aging wooden movie stars in leopard jackets and stupid-ass sunglasses aren’t worth her time.
And by explain, I mean lick her anklets like an alcoholic llama.
The Fondle of Wrong
Ever feel like you’re watching a mugging take place in slow motion but you’re powerless to do anything?
It’s all in the placement of his hands. Not quite a violation, but all sorts of wrong. Maybe her Wonder Woman bracelets can protect her.
It’s Saturday and your humble narrator in all things boobie/tribal-tatt, The DB1, wonders if Spielberg and Lucas can come up with any other plans to retroactively rape any more of my childhood memories.
Maybe they can render some CG images of the Dallas Cowboys gang raping my childhood Teddy Bear, Winky.
Grocery 'Bags
That reminds me, has anyone seen my grocery bag? The one with the two perky oranges I was going to squeeze, and the forty moldy potatos I was going to throw out before they made a “Westside”?
I know left it around here somewhere.
On an unrelated note to bulgy wrongness, a major shout-out to G4’s Attack of the Show, which gave the site a major plug on Thursday.
Featuring both the AB Lobster and Bra shows that G4 knows what’s up. Watch the Clip Here.
Portia and the Westsiders
Is Portia trashy in that 80s Heather Locklear bleached blond way?
Absolutely.
Does she talk in an annoying voice and whine about how her trust fund doesn’t cover the Cabo expenses for Tiffany and Claire? Of course.
Do these homie whiteboy fratdouche twatnecks deserve to be doing shots with her in a basement in Trenton? Not by the hairlessness on their chinny chin chins.
And by chinny chin chins, I mean scrotundae.
No Friday Thoughts today. The DB1 is pensive and contemplative. But mostly drunk on fermented hops.
Swedish Fish
Froggy writes in with a Swedish ‘bag tag:
—-
hey DB1,
its froggy, your french supplier of DB. I love the site and want to contribute again.
I’m in sweden right now and i’m about to leave to go back to France, and i had trouble to find some swedish DB since they seem to have a different doucheness in this blond loving girl country. But hope you like them!
bonne continuation, salut!
— froggy
—–
I can smell the eurodouche aftershave right through the screen. What happened to you, Sweden?
Oh, that’s right. The Grieco Virus went global.
Potbelly II
Upon a second pic review, there is now enough evidence to stamp Potbelly at least a stage 1-2 ‘bag. At first I was prepared to give a nottadouche pass, he really just seemed like the luckiest dishwasher ever.
But then Potbelly II revealed what many in the comments thread suspected — the Tri-Vag Facial Landing Strip configuration.
But in spite of stage 1-2 ‘bagdom, he’s still earned props. For she is a bottle of delight wrapped in hott bubble wrap.
She is Joy Bunny.
And Joy Bunny is my new Kylie Minogue hott obsession. That ass is a trampoline upon with Lilliputians would find hours of relaxed entertainment. I would flay piglets by firelight just for the chance to convince her dentist to give me a root canal with the unwashed scraper from her last cleaning.
And for that, Potbelly, even with the Tri-Pubes and stupid-ass ‘beater, has earned my respect. Now if only he’d fall off a cliff.
Cookie Puss
I always wondered what ever happened to Carvel Ice-Cream’s greatest birthday cake of all time.
Who knew three college hotts in Florida would find Cookie Puss hiding out as some dude’s overdeveloped ‘roid-chest?
Friday Haiku
Skinny ‘bagling with
scrolling message belt buckle:
“going home alone.”
four pairs chunky thighs
will crush high school stripper boy
justice will be served
— ‘bag lanta
WhiteSnake groupies hot.
“Here I go Again On My Own”
Douchebag roadies score.
-BJL
*HOOOORK!!!!* *cough cough sputter*
*pant* I’m OK, I’m OK..
I just need a…*BLEARGHHHHHHHH!!*
— mitch meats
Tommy Gun Drive By.
Call Jimmy the Boob Lover
And go get the car.
— Rare Black Cup
white pants at half mast.
mourning death of fashion sense.
blonde wants panties back.
— ted theodore scrotgan
The white Tayshaun Prince
You are way out of your league
Eat some pierogies
— bmt
Scrote Times at Ridgemont High
I could be mistaken, but is the the first time the cheesy Inland Empire Mandana of Skeeze has crossed streams with the party-boi DJ Miami Mohawk of Grease?
And did it have to manifest on Mike Damone from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, twenty five years after he became manager at the 7-11?
I know times are tight, man. But if you’ve still got any Blue Oyster Cult tickets, I’ll meet you outside the arcade.
But does perky Paid-to-Pose Cheerleader get a Ridgemont hall pass simply because she’s hoping her four hundred bikini pics on MySpace get her noticed by 944?
Probably not.
