HCwDB of the Week
Last week was so overwhelming in its hottie/douchey totality that I’m nearly at a loss as to what to select for the Weekly. Good thing I’m in NYC, prepping for a book signing (details changing, but will be announced in a day or two), and drinking heavily on Avenue B.
And yes, we all need to drink heavily after Douchebag Beach and hearing Cro ‘Bagnon speak on Saturday.
The Weekly after a Monthly is always doubly interesting because it features two weeks of pics to cull down. Indubitably, some faves will be left out. Either that, or I just like typing the word “indubitably.”
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Earwig
Because one can’t douche properly if not hydrated.
The Earwig brings us the rocker scrote in action. Everything that went wrong somewhere between the death of grunge and the rise of American Idol. Plus nasty-ass freedom trail.
The two delightful Karen-From-Staten-Island bridge and tunnel hotts remind us that the truly ascendant HCwDB pic must feature both hott and choad in unholy dialectic. This is one of the reasons the excoriating A.D: Artificial Douchetelligence missed a victory in the Monthly, and why The Earwig has a legit shot.
For rage inducing “real-douche” polarities, this pic has it all.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Smog Magogs
Originally appearing as a Friday Haiku, this pic has haunted me like a naked Kathy Bates in About Schmidt. These two punctured balloons have appeared on the site before here and here (props to Darksock for the finds).
Their greasy scrotosity is overwhelming. And she’ll get drunk and make out with six guys at the bar. And yes, I’m saying that like it’s a good thing. Even though it isn’t.
For their body of work, and by body of work I mean chest sag in the presence of hott perk, the Magogs deserve consideration not just for a Weekly, but possibly for the Hall of Scrote.
And she is an understated tasty dessert of trampy delights.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Mooby Dick
I don’t like this as much as you don’t like this. This pic is our penance. It is cruelty outside of mockable douchuousness, and for that, I apologize.
I wish this pic would just go away. It pains me somewhere deep in my cerebellum.
And yet we must witness. For we are the ‘bag hunters. We are the hott savers. And if ever there needed the collective fire hose of societal rejection, it is this picture.
Does that mean it’s worthy of winning a Weekly? I’m not sure.
Can we turn the other pec? Can we ignore the monstrosity of mooby fondling by a brunette scrunchy hott?
Did I just write a sentence that actually contained the sequential wording, “monstrosity of mooby fondling”? Take that, James Joyce.
I disqualified The Nipper on account of possible legit Maori origin (and skanky hott), And Oldbag was just too “Roger Ebert talks about Hermione in Harry Potter” creepy. Boa Arthur and the Errand Twins were also painful near misses. Finally, Fermented Mead, Glare of the Emo and Staten Island legend Tai Chia, the hardest to leave off of all.
What an incredible few weeks of hottie/scrotey commingling, a testament to the submissions I’ve been getting lately. But also a tough task to cull down to a final three. Nonetheless, my highly scientific methods have determined your finalists.
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
