Urkelbag / Not an Urkelbag
Et tu, Steve Urkel?
Honorary Douchebag of the Month: Fabio
It’s time to elevate the legendary Fabio to the pantheon of great douches of history.
Fabio’s always been on the cusp of non-douche given his ironic posturing and self awareness of his own ridiculousness. It’s hard to work up much rage against a guy in on the joke of his own absurdities.
But who are we kidding. Look at that poo slap worthy chin. Yeah, I know I’ve said in the past that the Chinbag is a victim of genetic happenstance and shouldn’t be condemned for chin alone.
But then there’s the hair. And last week’s Clooney Incident. Douchey.
So for decades of utterly ridiculous preening, cheesy shtick and overall putzitude, Fabio makes the case for an Honorary ‘Bag of the Month.
Toss in some MTV generi-hotts six months away from their Penthouse spreads, and you have a classic HCwDB celeb pic.
The Guido Dance
Many people have written in and asked me, your hungover narrator in all things douchey/thigh-suckle, about the Douchebaguette.
What does it look like when a young hott, once clean and pure like snowflakes no one could ever stain, has spent so much time in the presence of the douche that she becomes Bleethed to a point of unredeemability.
This video clip explains the Douchebaguette in action. It is tragic. Yet still boobie. A paradox of head assplosion.
Beach 'Baggin'
I can’t tell which is classier. The Doggie ‘Bag on the beach or the lighter on the ass cheek.
But there’s one thing I do know.
It’s Friday Night. Time to go out, pound some PBRs, and liberate a hott or two from the clutches of a greasebag.
This means you. If you’re a guy, get out there and start liberating. If you’re a hott, get out there and kick a douche in the ballsack.
Your unwashed narrator, The DB1, is satiated after a tasty Trader Joes chicken and rice dish, downed with a tasty cup of the ‘Train, and polished off with a Twinkie or three.
Looking good, Mortimer! Feeling good, Valentine!
Time to start drinkin’.
Hair to the Throne
PIC DELETED
How would one describe the little tuft of hair trying to commit suicide by jumping off Anthony Keidis ‘bag’s head?
A douche follicle?
A greasicide?
Peroxide blondes make my heart go pitter-patter and my wallet run and hide.
Sweet and Sour
All chocolate is good.
There’s premium chocolate. There’s hershey’s chocolate. There’s generic chocolate.
All have varying degrees of quality.
But then there’s Godiva Chocolate. The highest quality. Premium. That’s this perfect chocolate bar in the middle. She is choice.
Then there’s Hand.
Rubbing himself. Grinning like a choad. The faintest hint of eyebrow shave.
He is turd.
The Lone STD
Stereodouchetonic Twin #1 is sad that you did not vote him into the Hall of Scrote.
He mourns with crimson artificial tan and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle water.
He consoles himself with bluish Jesus bling. And a torso that Ripley and the crew of the Nostromo just landed on after picking up a distress signal in space.
And by doggie baggin’ a Spanish Tamale with quality bumper that I would trade silken furs to spice merchants in Paraguay for.
Friday Haiku
Wind wisps through the clouds,
Seagulls flutter above, high.
Behold. Seagull crap.
Mandana and pigtails
Man boobs and belly
Pasties suck
— Marcos Douchebagdatis
Melons and his paunch.
Three smooth, convex surfaces.
Douche Geometry.
— reservoir douche
I feel sorry
for the embarrassed parents
of hot star boobies
-condoucheous
Wind wisps through pillows.
Sun makes pillows visible.
God bless Silicon.
-Amerigo Vesdouchey
As Bleeth consumes soul
Feel free to use mandana
To wipe away tears
— xander dingleberries
Ricky for Hall of Scrote
My general rule of thumb is if there isn’t an emphatic groundswell for the Hall, the HCwDB couple doesn’t make it in. So the Stereodouchtonic Twins are out.
But due to a long period of devoted fandom for the Rickster’s shimmy, I’m giving Ricky his shot.
However, consider that Ricky’s boogie didn’t even win the Weekly he was in, losing to the Brothabag and Strawberry Shortcake of Velvet Jones.
But that need not matter. For a truly ascendant hottie/douchey pic, and by ascendant I mean ass, can often have a cumulative effect over time.
Does Ricky rise to Hall of Scrote level?
Is his everybag befuddled shimmy the kind of relatable douchebaggery we can all connect to? Is the hott, partially obscured, enough to counter-balance the Ricky Ricky Shake?
Here’s his shot. Ricky for the Hall?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Wait a Minute…
Dad??
