Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The 2008 Webbys

I was pleased as Night Train spiked punch to learn last month that HCwDB will receive an “Official Honoree” award in the Culture/Personal Blog category at the 2008 Webby Awards.

Check me out, I’m right between National Public Radio and Wired Media. I would like to commend the judges for realizing that, with the power of a single hottie/douchey mocking blog, I’m saving the world.

Oh sure, some may see what we do here is trivial. As simply the collective philosophical musings engendered by the dialectics of boobie lust and douche mock.

But do not let the scrotal rantings hide the larger cultural transformation. Because when you mock a single hott/douche, you pay it forward globally. Next month the book comes out, and from there, we take over the world.

We are the real Climate Change. And if we get to stare at boobies along the way, then all the better.

The show is tonight in New York, but since I’m half drunk and stumbling around my apartment trying to find my socks and wondering if Preparation H can shrink tribal tatts, I won’t be able to attend in person. Which kills me, because David Byrne is one of my heroes, and he’s gonna be there. No word on if the giant suit will make an appearance.

But if anyone is there tonight and hears a mention of HCwDB, drop me a line and let me know. Or if someone can get a pic of Arianna Huffington with some raging douche like Ryan Seacrest, send it along. She’s quite the tasty cougar.

The Swallows

As we learned from last week’s science article, New Jersey barnyard swallows can radically increase their testosterone with only the help of a $5.99 magic marker.

Although in this case, saline may also play a role.

I would still love cherubic plunging neckline hott with a clipboard and Thomas Dolby glasses on until she quietly asked me to leave, and to take my limited edition Doctor Who model Zygon from Terror of the Zygons with me.

Caption This Pic

Sure, the smart kids went to real schools and we got into The Ronkonkoma Institute for Hair and Makeup Studies, but who’s laughing now?

Mr. -T

I’m a little cranky today.

I can’t tell if it’s because I switched my usual four bowls of Frosted Flakes nutritious breakfast to two bowls of Frosted Flakes, two bowls of Trix, and a large chocolate Hostess cupcake (for vitamins).

But then I remembered a hypothetical exercise I like to practice when I’m feeling cranky. I imagine something that would annoy me taking place. Then I think to myself, “Well, at least ____ didn’t happen.”

Well, at least a tiny lawnmower didn’t shave off the top of my head.

There. All better.

Lionel Itchy

Cuz he’s once… twice… three times… an ab displaying greased up putzclown….

Bruce Jenner's Kid is a…

…nah.

No need to finish that sentence. Too obvious. It’s like shooting Wheaties in a barrel.

But his Hollywood Hott Du Jour (who would love him just as much even if he wasn’t a rich, vacuous layabout with nothing to say and no purpose for consuming food and oxygen other than to produce waste), is very curvy.

h/t The Superficial.

The Metaphysical Hooligan

Eh, I’ll yank that last prom pic because I kind of feel bad for the kid. Instead, I’ll post the Metaphysical Hooligan.

Because every so often a HCwDB pic comes along that’s like having your soul mugged by metaphysical hooligans.

You know metaphysical hooligans. Those unemployed slacker spirits who hang out by the ethereal bus stop near the corner where abstract thought meets conceptual space-time.

That place beyond matter, light and energy, where pure electromagnetic waves come together to form the universal spirit.

And then get bitch-slapped by the utter, undeniable reality of this pic’s huge douche with pierced nipples.

Carly has an unconventional sexyness. Some may complain, but to me, she is that Laura San Giacomo Italian seductress that twinkles my oscillating electrons.

But what vibrates the rhythmic “Om” of the Universal Harmonic Resonance is one simple fact:

The Metaphysical Hooligan sucks alpaca balls.

Zima Time

When your parents are out of town at an insurance convention and there was a 50% off sale on headbands at the Gap, what time is it?

Zima time.

Watch out, Sharon, Linda and Kelly.

The Zima Boyz are gettin’ frisky.

No More Crackodile Dundee

Dundee’s Jazzy Aussie Hott writes in:

—-
I’d appreciate it if you removed the ‘Crackodile Dundee’ photo/profile. Although I do find your site amusing, and your little spiel about me and my partner – I do find some of the comments a little slack, and I guess I am kind of offended.

P.s. You can let all our online buddies know that my tits are well and truly real. Just thought you’d like to know.
—-

If there’s anything about my comments thread regulars that can be noted, it’s their damn slack. Slackers.

So, to make up for it, here’s a pic of a girl with The Fresh Prince of Bel Air’s Carlton. Who isn’t douchey. But he is Carlton.

HCwDB of the Week

An incredibly pungent week pf pics last week (props to all who submitted), leads me to turn to my trusty arbiter of all that needs arbiting, alcohol, to select the final three.

My post-sugar-rush haze after two packets of Twizzlers, a half a bag of Fiddle Faddles, and fourteen Pabst Blue Ribbons out of my special issue limited edition Ubiquitous Plaid Cup led me to the following three HCwDB of the Week Finalists. Vote wisely:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Wheatstalks

Hells, might as well give this uberscrote another shot at a Weekly.

With hair that hilarious, and a chiquita that bouncy, he’s got the goods to go all the way.

And by all the way, I mean really stupid ass hair.

The only thing holding back Wheatstalks is that he’s so clownish he almost inverts the douche paradigm of obnoxiousness.

He also has no real hand gestures, no annoying bling, and no tribal tatts.

Even his face isn’t very douche-facey.

But that hair. That shirt. She is Mediterranean sweat hott. And he is poo.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Meatballs

Rare is the Swedish Delight so snowflake clean in the middle of a classic Eurobag sandwich of scrote.

I put it to you, Greg.

Yellow armband. Mullet. Dior Sunglasses.

She is a roots showing curvy non-scoliosis suffering arched back of skin lick.

I am in pain. I loves me some milky jean short-shorts.

I would castrate a peruvian wolf without Novocaine just for the chance to smack her grandmother’s corpse with a bottle of Absinthe.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Truman Coyote

This Wednesday Limerick combo of classic Vegas Choad and sexy mamacita hott deserves a shot in the finals, if for no other reason than that tatt.

Also, since it was limerick time, the Reese Witherspoon Legally Hott did not get remotely that proper attention that she deserves.

And by proper attention, I mean my hiding behind her Kia Sport at 2am dressed as a giant marshmallow.

Every classic HCwDB pic must have that proper balance between sweet innocent boobie hottie and utterly rank choad.

Which of these three pics rises to winner status?

That, my fellow ‘bag hunters, is up to you.

Vote for your winner, as always, in the comments thread.

Honorable mention to Trainwreckin’ in Rehab, the Friday Follicles Haiku and the toughest omission of all, He’s Alwayz Down for Wuteva, whose poetic verse wasn’t enough to compensate for a mediocre douche-pose.