HCwDB of the Week
We have two weeks of pics to cull from for this week’s contest thanks to last week’s ginormous 4-pic monthly clash, with The Limey barely beating Batbag in a smackdown douche/hott spectacular.
Speaking of that Monthly, a stellar comments thread took place in that debate. If you missed it, check it out here.
As to me, I’m flying back from a weekend of turkey, gravy and making fun of nine year old orphans on the street by denying them their porridge. Because I’m sensitive like that.
Here’s your finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Douche Hoagie
What do you do when facing a sandwich with a hott filling so succulent, and two moldy pimento bread loves?
Do you take a bite?
Do you strip off the foul and try to feed it to the local pigeons, hoping for one of those ex-lax urban legend reactions you used to hear about in fifth grade?
These two choads have all the requisite bling, hand gestures, douche-faces, hat tilts and fauxhauks to be award winning ‘bags.
And she is perfect, if inflated, tanned perfection. I would lick her used George Foreman grill after she made a roast and note that the Snozzberries tasted like Snozzberries. Who ever heard of a Snozzberry? We are the music makers. And we are the dreamers of dreams.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Easy-Bake Oven
Every great hottie/douchey coupling, no matter how much they veer into surrealism, contains a basic gut punch of dude-duism.
Chin Lip Rat Fungus Smug Smirking Asswad With Too Many Tatts is that dude.
CLRFSSAWTMT has so polluted a Perfect Ten Hott, that she becomes lost.
Her boobs bekon.
But her hand warns us to stay away.
What to do?
That conundrum you feel, my friends, is what every great HCwDB pic offers. We stare into the douche-abyss. And we see ourselves.
And the DB1 pours another bowl of Lucky Charms. Because they’re magically delicious.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Wonderbag and the Missing T
Our second bread related ‘bag in the contest, Wonderbag’s sullen “Blue Steel” look and Ten Degree Wonder Bread Yankee Cap Tilt both club arctic seals out of pure spite.
His “DJ” bling necklace, four layers of shirt and covert ‘bag hand gesture all mock The Buddha’s transcendence.
She is Gymnasium Hott, the kind on the college track team who dated that dude Chad that you always hated. Gym Hott once had a pseudo-deep conversation with you while drunk at a frat party only to forget your name the next day in Art History.
Or was that just me?
Their combo tasks the soul. It is wrong. But her hips are so, so very drinkable right. What to do? Why mock and lust, of course. Mock and lust.
So which of these three slices of doucheyness and hott rises to the top of the “wrong” pile?
That, my friends, is up to you.
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
