The 'Bag Spasm
I’m intrigued by Sorority Hott #2’s involuntary ‘bag spasm towards Grinny McMandana. It’s like she’s lost regular motor functions and has been forced through sheer scrotal pull to announce her judgment of the tool.
Would that be classified as a primal instinct? Or a muscular reaction to external stimulii?
Whale Squirts
PIC DELETED
I love you Jenny Sue, Carol Anne, and Carol Anne’s older but still sexy Aunt Vicki-Mae.
I hate to break it to you three, but Zombies from the lost George Romero Classic, Night of the Living Whale Squirts, are cohabitating in your personal space.
Please dispose of them in a prompt and sanitary fashion.
By which I mean, kick them in the ladel soup nuts and dunk them in a vat of toxic waste. While I stare at Carole Anne’s perfect pale Cleavite and imagine the dancing UV rays forming its soft, faded pattern of spreading cloth material echoing through my nethers like a Taoist gong.
The Blonde Girl and the Steaming Turd Music Producer Guy with Chin Dribble
Watching this cow in mid-lick reminds me of the lesser known but wonderfully moving Aesop’s Fable from 1936, The Blond Girl and The Steaming Turd Music Producer Guy With Chin Dribble.
Not many people know the story of The Blond Girl and The Steaming Turd Music Producer Guy With Chin Dribble. It’s a lost classic.
Unlike some of the more popular Aesop’s Fables, The Blond Girl and The Steaming Turd Music Producer Guy with Chin Dribble lacked the emotionally engaging animal characters representing moral choice, nor any embedded moral lesson outside of the catch-all, “Don’t date scrotes.”
Rumor has it Aesop was just getting over getting dumped by his first wife, Sally Ann Cavanaugh Aesop. Drunk on hops, Aesop reportedly penned the short story in less than an hour.
So while it lacks a true moral gravitas and complex storytelling motif, there is still much to be gained from Aesop’s The Blond Girl and the Steaming Turd Music Producer Guy with Chin Dribble.
Like the fact that he sucks. And is gross.
Jacques
Dude, I loved you as Jacques, the cleaner shrimp in Finding Nemo.
Congrats on snagging Ariel. Now button up before Disney drops you from High School Musical IV: The Teen Pregnancy Years.
Chicago Hat Tilt
The fused connection between ten degree Yankee cap tilts and douche-face is suddenly being challenged by a rise in White Sox gear.
As demonstrated here by the Golly Gee Whiz 50s Sitcom younger brother, trying to look “gangsta.” Put down the gatt, Jimmy. Mom wants you home by 8.
The hotts are a triumvirate of squishy goodness. They bespeak a 2008 of endless, firm perky boobage.
But Jimmy’s only a stage-1 tool, and so I must ask myself, is there enough to mock? And the answer is yes. Most certainly, yes.
gabehcuod
Look very closely at the hair patterns shaved on the side of the head.
Even closer. Keep looking.
See that?
It’s a tiny Jack Nicholson, chasing a boy through the fields with an axe.
Thankfully, that boy has the power. The power of The Douching. The voices that came to him, and whispered their warning with one cryptic, singular word:
gabehcuod… gabehcuod…
2008!
Happy New Year!! The DB1 has partially recovered, thanks to a few ‘Train spiked Irish Coffees, and my senses are slowly regaining the cognition to delineate between pancakes, boobies and fire hydrants.
Douchery was of the mostly fratpud kind on the streets of New York last night. A few teenagers sported cactus heads the size of Omaha, and drunk hotties abounded.
It will be interesting to chart the changing trends in douche culture this year. Already we’ve seen the pink popped collar and cactus heads giving way to the shirtless + spiky fwip-hawk haircut look in late 2007.
The hotts seemed to grow more classic, as the scrotes grew ever more adventurous. And by adventurous, I mean a gang of shrieking rhesus monkeys flinging poo like a simian Jackson Pollock.
Are shirtless grease-chests the Jesus Bling of 2008? Will mandanas replace the hat tilt? And how can I entice Neon Blue Dress Hott away from jerky Don Johnson Cowpie, featured here with bizarre cheek pubes?
Your humble narrator sits and ponders the shifting currents of performative douchebaggery and the hotties that continue to fall under their sway. What types of hottie/douchey combos will rise to the top in 2008?
To paraphrase the Beach Boys, God only knows what I’d mock without them…
Soc says, Happy New Years!
One of the first breakout doucherstars here at HCwDB, Socrates — legendary thinker/philosopher of all that is ‘bag, wanted to drop by and wish you all an oil free and hottie filled New Years.
Soc doesn’t look up to his usual scrotey standards anymore. Either that, or our ‘bag hunting skills have gotten so much stronger since he first made an appearance on this site. To paraphrase The Dude, how can we go back to the family farm after seeing the Gator?
Then again, Soc’s hair is prepped into a linear X-Y-Z graph, ready for charting economic growth and international trade patterns in 2008.
Your humble ferryman on our collective journey through societal rot, The DB1 is planning a lovely evening of Manhattan debauchery for the New Years.
I will charm Downtown Soho Hotts with tales of adventures on the far seas battling gel pirates while saving the Vivian Girls in the Realms of the Unreal.
I will dazzle them with Ricky Jay inspired card tricks that I learned from a drunken merchant during my travels on a spice ship off the Madagascar flats.
Then drool on their ample cleavage while passing out at 2am and crying out for my lost stuffed panda, “Pandy,” that I left behind at a Toys R’ Us back in 1983.
I Heart Huckabag
And by heart, I mean laugh at.
I’m not sure whether Jason Schwartzbag really annoys on any level, or is just a clown. Then again, white belt.
White belts fray my soul. Like fishermen hunting the coelacanth. It is ancient, and wrong.
But I do love Angular Cheekboned Swede with the power of a Nordic Viking funeral. Yes, her push-up halter top is ill fitting and mushy. But making saline mashed potatoes is not something to be simply dismissed as edgy fusion cuisine from the downtown New York boobie scene.
I present for dessert: The most suckable hip bone on the menu.
