HCwDB of the Week
It’s not easy coming down off last week’s HCwDB Weekly, which featured one of the most intense ‘baggle royales we’ve featured on the site. But this week brings us three finalists of disparate douchitude. Three punchbowl turds and curvy mellonballs occupying varying corners of the hottie/douchey chessboard.
I’ve tuned this week’s finalists to reincorporate the hott that represents the boobie Yang to the Yin of douchebaggery in any good slice of HCwDB contradiction.
So without further ado, let the mocking begin. Here’s this week’s finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Greaseheads
First featured in last Friday’s Haiku poetry contest, the Greaseheads offer new and unparalleled, well greased heads.
Their greasery hasn’t been seen since last Fall’s classic “Hall of Scrote” winning oil slick, Socrates.
These two Platonic Aristotileans are no Socrates, but they are indeed finalist worthy scrotebags. Pincushion on the left busting a junior Peaches Point simply ads to the festivities.
Ulle is all sorts of Eastern European accented erotic hotness. Just look at that hint of cavernous cleavite. Tell me you wouldn’t build shrines to those two hills that pull at the loins like so many bribed Norwegian freedom fighters. I don’t know what that means. But I do know boobies.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The S.O.D
Standard Operating Douche-Face is an important reminder of how ‘baggy can transcend mere accoutrement. Although this wonky toad has his fair share of the external signifiers as well as reeking Aqua Velva douche all over my computer screen.
And lest we neglect the hottie, his opposite is one fantastic country fair bouncing inflatable ride that costs four tickets and requires a 15 minute wait to get on.
She is carrot stick healthy, energy drink inspiring, and cracked up shetland pony riding horny toad humpaliscious sno cone meltitude.
He’s got three metal chain necklace medallions on. And a shirt statement that starts with the word “I’m.”
I’m gonna put you in the HCwDB Finals, S.O.D.
That’s what I’m going to do.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Jenny
Jennifer oh Jenny.
I have no idea what this sexy lioness’s real name is, so I anoint her Jenny and ask her why she’s cohabitating with a transient house painter from Hoboken who likes to make “Westside” hand gestures and features an Easter Island statue chin.
I would cover my head in melted Polly-O string cheese, pour tomato sauce on those doughy abs and make Hott Pizzas with my forehead.
There’s a special corner of douchebaggery reserved for gang insignia making early 30s choadbags like Carl here. And that corner is here. At HCwDB. Where I can sit on my floor, scratch my stomach, and mock his douchuous spew in the confort of my living room.
So Jenny and the House Painter Douche are finalist #3.
I don’t think the world is ready for a critical reexamination of Tatman Begins, so we will let that pale, soggy loaf of tatted up uberchoad fade from our collective consciousness as quickly as possible.
Them’s your three, and three are your thems. Let the hot side Hott. Let the douche side douche.
Which one makes you want to smack your grandmother with a Flowbee?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
