Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Tatt Vortex

There’s a certain type of tatted up muscle-t wearing uberbag type we call “The Tatt Vortex.”

Like staring into the sun, or jamming raisins up one’s nose then gargling with hot sauce, The Tatt Vortex causes Gregorian chanting Nuns in Northumbria to cup-slap autistic penguins.

And if that last sentence seemed a tad non-sequitorious, it’s only because Nadja makes me want to glide on one knee down a paper mache protoplasmic jello boobie until I land in the upper thigh area, where I will nuzzle contentedly and wait out the long winter.

Sue-Ellen's Shiny Tool

God damn we need some eye candy after that Bello video.

Sue-Ellen has that delightful entitlement air of the aristocratic Brahmin waiting to inherit Mumsy’s fortune while slumming with Ed The Garage Mechanic in the interim. She’s the heir to 400 years of hegemony wrapped in Gabanna. Mexicans clear her plates.

Granted, Ed is only a minor tool. Barely a douche.

But I need some blonde white teeth with shoulder suckle worthy of a boobie hottie suckle thigh to cleanse the palette after Bello. And she is that shoulder suckle.

Being DJ Bellovich

You’re invited. Step into the portal, enter the brain and see through the eyes of Bello. Aka Bobby Batz. DJ to the stars. MTV Real World hopeful.

Check. Check.

What’s that? You never wondered what it’s like to be Bello? Then click not, adventurer. For horrors await.

WARNING: Watching this video causes uncontrollable diarrhea in lab rats. It is the Ringu of douche videos. One week after watching, a phone will ring, and you will have an uncontrollable urge to step-dance.

WARNING #2: No, I’m serious. Watch this at your own risk.

WARNING #3: As with most Bello videos, there are no hotts.

WARNING #4: There is a surprise ending. It is uber-poo.

WARNING #5: If you complain after viewing that you’re now sterile, hate life and beat up a small orphan boy on the streets of Bangledesh as a result of subsequent video-rage, HCwDB reminds you that you were warned.

WARNING #6: No seriously. It’s that bad.

Brothabag Leon Sunday

HCwDB legend, Brothabag Leon, enjoys his Sunday with a paisley mandana, a yellow Ed Hardy shirt, a sad looking mocha hott, and slammin’ isotope sideburns.

You go with your bad self, B.L. You’re like the pumped up Pop-Tart toaster strudel of cultural invalidation.

The latest cut from "Some Group You've Never Heard of, and Will Never Hear of"

Lets get freaky now?

How about lets learn that the flange on the voice gimmick began and ended with that annoying Cher song.

You tools are up way past your bedtime. How’s about returning daddy’s car, dropping the sampler and backing slowly away from it before some homies show up and steal your 7-11 gift cards.

Nice appearance of Ubiquitous Red Cup, though.

Rub a Nub Nub

Total douche in the tub.

The Nubster is getting bolder by the hour. But at least he’s switched from Mountain Dew jammies to a free Heineken t-shirt.

Broheim!! The sweatband goes above the eyebrows. Not on them.

Saturday Nub

Emerging from his “Where’s Waldouche?” hiddenness, Nub makes his move…

EDIT: In the comments threads, Frodouche Baggins finds the stylin’ source of Nub’s threads.

Fung Friday

Another Friday afternoon. I sit and sip my plastic cup of Night Train, and down another HoHo, and contemplate the singularity that is the Oompa Prompa we call Fung.

Only Fung and DJ Bello may appear on this site without hot chick as counterbalance. Because they are too hilarious not to.

Fung is both Shakesperean and Biblical. By which I mean his iconographic legend is a grand tragedy buried within a narrative we can only glimpse in episodic parable.

But somewhere out there, there are the Douche Sea Scrolls. Once decoded by scholars, the D.S.S. will fill in the missing parts in the story of Fung.

And by missing parts, I mean… nah, that’s too easy.

Random links as I clean out the pixel closet:

2007 Douchebag of the Month winner, Mystery, is more like a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in fart.

Michael Godard. The pooiest artist since Jasper Johns. Yeah, I’m lookin’ at you, Jasper Johns.

He Just Bangs Bitches and Blows his Hair, then Makes the Kissy Lips. Facebook status: “I don’t just like Double D’s I endorse it.“

Tag Bodyspray now has a record label. But have they signed Buckcherry yet?

The MP3 Skull Belt. Douchey? Nerdy? Somewhat hilarious?

Peyton List may be dating a slice of scrotal taint, but secretly she wants to tap-dance on my lower pelvis area wearing only a Robin Hood outfit, stiletto heels and nursing a sickly marsupial she rescued while on vacation in the Australian outback.

The Cat Parable

You know when your cat sneaks into your studio and eats your giant silk-screened Rorschach Test inspired ink blot canvasses, then eats some cat food, then wanders outside and throws up on a girl who looks like Scarlett Johansson?

No? Well now you do.

That being said, this dude almost earns a nottadouche for lack of poseur “gangsta” demeanor. No hand gestures. Hair generally under control.

What say you? Should we forgive the tattedness and give the dude a pass?

Friday Tonguedouche

Here’s a little rank spew of Tonguedouche cohabitating in land of the four delicious, tasty, and bouncy Palm Frond Hotts to fire you up on a Friday.

Displaying the rare and unholy “Double Thumbs Up + Tongue” move, this Tonguedouche laughs in the face of a Godless universe.

He argues for a paradigm that allows Tonguescrote existence to deny all of human achievement in one spittle filled gesture of poo.

If this doesn’t get our collective heads to sever in half, 13 Ghosts style, then I don’t know what will.