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Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Caption This Pic
When Kimmy and Kelly asked for a “Gatorade,” they had no idea that Sven The Austrian Emo would show up.
Abe Froman
Tell me this kid isn’t on the way to growing up to being the maitre de at Chez Quis.
I weep for the future.
In related bodyspray news, Thirty Odd Foot of Douche reports in that free Axe Bodyspray “samples” are being given out in his gym locker room.
Sort of the douchal equivalent of how Army smoking breaks during WWII hooked an entire generation on Marlboros. Or how Kelloggs slipped that one sugar cereal into their “Party Pack,” the one little box of Frosted Flakes next to the Raisin Bran and Cheerios.
Damn you, Kelloggs. Hooked me on your hidden little box of sugar crack when I was only five.
Monday, May 5, 2008Carrotdouche
Carrotdouche says, “I’m voting in the HCwDB of the Week!! Are you?”
Well, he didn’t actually say that. But he still sucks.
She reminds me of my sophomore year “friend with benefits” who thought we were dating. Or, to quote the late, great comedian, Mitch Hedberg, “I don’t have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who’d be mad at me for saying that.”
Monday, May 5, 2008Reader Mail
HH writes in:
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DB1-
I almost got into a fight because of your site.
There was this raging douche-hole walking with this banging Inland Empire tramp. I asked my friend if he’d ever heard of Hot Chicks with Douchebags. The guy heard me, got up in my face and asked me, “Who you calling a douchebag?” I told him that a guy with enough machismo to attract a hot girl like that could never be a douchebag, which made him mad.
He shoved me a couple times, especially when I asked his girlfriend if this was part of his mating ritual. He eventually gave up when security guards asked him to calm down or leave. As he walked away, he yelled after me, “So where’s your girl?” to which I responded, “Why bring sand to the beach?”
-HH
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It is my dream to inspire club fights simply upon repeating the phrase, “Hot Chicks with Douchebags.” It is my dream for that simple four word expression to become a cultural mantra, a shaman-like spiritual invocation if you will. The “Klatu Barata Nikto” of scrotundery.
That is my dream.
Well, that and Mila Kunis dipped in strawberry ice cream yelling at me to get up and get her a chicken pot pie.
Monday, May 5, 2008Diff'rent Scrotes
What chu talkin’ ’bout, bitches?
Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Bobby Fischer of Douchebaggery. The Gary Coleman of Scrotundery.
A ‘bagling so far ahead of his time that he’s actually impacting global scrotery in the year 2015 with retro-future pull.
Ladies, he may be cute now. But he’ll be the featured castmember of The Surreal Douche before you know it.
Stop the insanity. Get this kid some real heroes to emulate. Like Shaft. And Dolomite.
Monday, May 5, 2008Where's Waldouche?: HJBBAD Edition
I’ve eliminated the Amazon widget lag, so hopefully the site is working more smoothly now.
In the meantime, somewhere in this cross section of sorority girls, I’ve carefully hidden He Just Bangs Bitches and Drinks.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Monday, May 5, 2008HCwDB of the Week: Bra, Ungh, Yo
Bra. This week is a tough one, bra. Unggggh!! Yo.
Three selections of sexy plaything and steaming poodumpery are vying for your vote. Consider each carefully, before choosing. Which rises to the top of your pile of ultimate hottie/douchey wrongness?
Since I’ve already commented on each picture when they first ran, I will attempt to replicate the discourse each image summons. So, without further abra, here’s your finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Bra!!
Bra.
No, seriously, bra!!
Broheim.
Bra!!
Dude.
Bro.
Bra!!
That’s what I’se talkin’ ’bout.
Braaaaaaa.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: DNA Dan
Unnnnnnghhhhh!!!
Me like boobies.
Sexy Librarian tells DNA Dan to read book. Me not like book.
Me like boobies.
Geico!!
Pauly Shore!!
King Kong was a whiny little beyoch!!
Okay, I got nothin’ else except that he’s a huge caveman of club-going douchery, and she is everything a girl-next-door hott should have. She is luscious.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Gospel of Vinny 12:18
Yo.
This ain’t no paint, yo.
It’s the clublights.
Where the magic happens.
Where sexy Maria and her best friend Tonya know where to get some sugar.
Yo.
A/X.
That’s what it’s all about.
Okay, that last pic just didn’t have the strength of voice the other two did. But he’s still a douche. And Maria’s a chiquita hott.
So them’s your three. Remember, don’t just vote for your favorite hottie or the douchiest douche, but which combo, together, combines to form the truly ascendant HCwDB pic.
Which one will rise to the top/bottom of hottie/douchey wrongness? That, my fellow ‘bag hunters, rests in your trusty digital votes.
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Sunday, May 4, 2008Reader Mail: Turkbaggery
Ann writes in:
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Hi DB1,
So the attached pictures represent a terrible rut my coworker has fallen in. She has in recent months starting hanging out with a group of guys from Turkey. The one in all the pictures is Burak.
He frequently forgets to button up his overpriced silk shirts mailed to him from his Sultan father. He also seems to have mistaken his purpose in life as being a stud to mate with any lady he can poke and is a total womanizer.
My skin crawls when I see pictures of him. He’s an uberdouche: spoiled by his parents, always tan, spikey hair, and an undeserved sense of accomplishment and social prominence.
Oh yea, and he used to be fat and button up his shirt to hide his boobs.
— Ann
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Burak may be douche, Ann, but with a name like Burak, you know he fought bravely in Byzantinian battles under Seljuk Sultan to claim Istanbul (not Constantinople).
Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you.
Sunday, May 4, 2008That 00s Hott
Having finally seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall, I have a question.
When, exactly, did Mila Kunis make the transition from annoying sitcom teenager to voraciously hot creature of erotic otherness that I would cut out my own pancreas and sell it to Chilean merchants just for the chance to get hung up on by her personal assistant? Who then threatened me with a restraining order?
Geez, like it’s inappropriate to suckle Mila Kunis’s garbage cans outside her Brentwood apartment at 2am. Please. Who makes those rules.
I’m hestitant to call out the Culkin for being scrote. He’s had a bumpy ride post-pubescence and generally doesn’t seem too bad. He’s certainly not as annoying as the white sunglassed Yeti that Natalie Portman’s dating.
But since Mila is my latest Semitic librarian fantasy obsession, The Culk’s gotta take his lumps in the process.
I would study Freud by candlelight in Vienna just to better understand the schism in my conception of self if it meant I could paw Mila’s boobies like a dachshund on goofballs.
I would fly to small countries with confusing names near Russia and track down Mila’s diasporic distant cousins just to explain to them why it’s not necessarily inappropriate to nibble on her ankles with the quaking double-take of a young Don Knotts after seeing the Ghost.
Saturday, May 3, 2008The Torch Still Blows
The Blowtorch and Sloane Peterson Hott are back to say hi.
They first made an appearance of licking skeeze back in January, here and here. They initially made an impact on the strength of her sultry perfectly tanned caramel candy hottness, and of course his uberboing hair.
She is still chestimating a breast case scenariboob at the bechest of the breastimable, uhm, boobie.
He still sucks.
