HCwDB of the Week
Going through the emails and getting the pics together for a busy week, and reflecting on the fact that Jon Hamm should not be hosting SNL, as great as he is in Mad Men. Peyton List should be. And by “hosting,” I mean fondling. And by “SNL” I mean my middle toesies.
Here’s your finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Chumlee
Chumlee has that smug “model” look going. The jaundice skin. The hint of silver dye in the hair. The oily oiledness.
Combine that with the stripey scarf, the shaved chest, the ferret chin fung, the hat and the stupid hand gesture, and he’s a douche that’s more than the sum of his adouchrements.
And Beatrice is simply bursting forth with all that is holy and gelatinous in life.
Beatrice is strong of leg, with mountain climbing build.
She could crush your spine with her legs, then cook a chicken pot pie for supper.
I want her to punish me cruelly and without mercy. For I have been very naughty. My lower butt area needs light but firm whacking with a slide ruler and a box of Mike-n-Ikes.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Kreep
Yes, the girl in the middle is scary skinny. And yes, the tripartite facial hair on Kreep looks like a cancer patient’s crotch.
But Native Hottmerican on the right makes my wumpa want to wigwam, and my Native American term for something want to Native American term for something.
Uhm. I think I just went what the kids call “meta.” Back on track, DB1. Back on track.
Silly tatt. Hott and douche mediated by toothpick girl.
It’s not a masterwork of choad/boob cohabitation. But it’s enough to make Finalist status.
For Brunette is sulty and happy and perky and probably a great listener while I regale her with tales of my adventures in the Subcontinent.
And Kreep is a trool.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Italian Sausage and Asian Mellon Salad
Uhm.
Yeah.
This pic cannot be unseen.
Like the videotape in Ringu, The Sausage and Mellon Salad is cursed with the haunting spectrality of ghostly shrunken nads, mediated through a pixelated digital intermediary.
And yet, there is hope.
Archy backs make my heart race, and Shin-Lau has arms of lickable munchable mellon perfection.
She is the yin to his tiny, tiny, yang.
Speaking of: Pointing. At. His. Yang.
So them’s your three. Which of these couplings has just the right alchemy balance between the dialectics of hottie/douchey commingling?
That decision, fellow ‘bag hunters, is in your court. Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
