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Friday, May 22, 2009
Friday Haiku
Hmm… Iron Man II,
Not the direction I’d guessed.
Dane Cook as Robin?
Day job at WalMart
Stocking the shelves in housewares
Shoplifted an iron
– Vin Douchal
Waxing on and off
Did not mean your chest, Scrote Bag
Miyagi has failed
— Anon – Bender Douche
Iron Man Kravitz
steams Gyllenhaal wannabe
Now where’s the short bus?
– Anonymous
Yo babes, check me out!
I ironed these pants myself
Where’d these holes come from?
— Anonymous
Hirohito douche
Imitates Stevie Wonder
Deserves Seppuku
— Anonymous
Thursday, May 21, 2009Ask DB1: What About Bleeth-to-‘Bag?
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Strangely, there was one couple where the hott was Bleethed-out far beyond redemption but her dude was only exhibiting minimal Stage 1 douche/scrote/choad signifiers. His beard was overly trimmed but that was about it. No oversized sunglasses, no tats, hair was not gelled, no foul stench of Axe, etc.
Thank You,
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Excellent question, Ronnie. What you describe is the less common Bleeth-to-‘Bag viral transmission. This only occurs in situations where the Bleeth is so polluted by ‘bag virus, that she flips from incubator to pollutant/carrier.
It is also less common because by the time most hotts reach a stage-4 Douchebaguette state, they are completely surrounded by stage-3 and stage-4 douches, and so the non-‘bag rarely faces exposure (see Exhibit A, pictured here).
But it does happen, as you witnessed this past weekend. And when it does, it’s very pooey.
Ask DB1: What About Bleeth-to-'Bag?
—-
Strangely, there was one couple where the hott was Bleethed-out far beyond redemption but her dude was only exhibiting minimal Stage 1 douche/scrote/choad signifiers. His beard was overly trimmed but that was about it. No oversized sunglasses, no tats, hair was not gelled, no foul stench of Axe, etc.
Thank You,
—–
Excellent question, Ronnie. What you describe is the less common Bleeth-to-‘Bag viral transmission. This only occurs in situations where the Bleeth is so polluted by ‘bag virus, that she flips from incubator to pollutant/carrier.
It is also less common because by the time most hotts reach a stage-4 Douchebaguette state, they are completely surrounded by stage-3 and stage-4 douches, and so the non-‘bag rarely faces exposure (see Exhibit A, pictured here).
But it does happen, as you witnessed this past weekend. And when it does, it’s very pooey.
Halloween or Europe?
Okay kids, time to play another round of the Hottie/Douchey game that’s sweeping the nation:
Halloween or Europe?
Which is it?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Thursday, May 21, 2009Jimmy
Jimmy so badly wants to be douchey. He’s got the hat tilt. The overpriced shirt from Nordstroms. The “rocker” hand gesture. Jimmy’s even recently finished a tasty cherry Lifesaver.
But all sexy sweet take-home-to-mom Kara can do is give him a pity hug.
For Jimmy is douche-wannabe.
As such, he is nonthreatening. Clownish. A douchal echo.
But that is not an excuse for that getup. He is still to be mocked.
Thursday, May 21, 2009Where’s Waldouche? Freshman Underwear Kegger Edition
Somewhere in this lineup of snowflakey pure underwear sporting freshhotts at the Kegger, I’ve carefully hidden a Fratty Waldouche.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Thursday, May 21, 2009Where's Waldouche? Freshman Underwear Kegger Edition
Somewhere in this lineup of snowflakey pure underwear sporting freshhotts at the Kegger, I’ve carefully hidden a Fratty Waldouche.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
Thursday, May 21, 2009Doucheclowns in the Shower: Limerick Style
There once was a Fratclown named Ron,
Who macked on the Kappas in the john,
He showed off his bling,
And screamed out “cha-ching!”
As Kelly screamed “My favorite 80s movie is Tron!”
Because, lets face it, Tron rules.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009Ruminations on the Faux
It’s a quiet Wednesday afternoon in smoggy, hazy, car fumes smelly Los Angeles.
Your humble narrator reclines in his chair and contemplates the logic that leads one to wear a six inch faux to a frat party.
Your humble narrator also contemplates the firm, child bearing and land tilling hips of the Miami Hott in the center. How I wouldst forty acres those mules.
Brothabag Perry on the right gets a nottadouche, even with the hint of kissy lips.
But Gerry, on the left, gets a smack for the shirt and horns.
Where are we hurtling towards on this planet of global douchal plague? And how wouldst I nestle in Floral Brunette’s upper boob area crying out with guttural whimpers until she told me to leave then texted six friends about it?
These questions task me.
So I munch a Hoho.
And the sugar rush tells me all will be well in the witching hour as the sun sets over Coffee Beans and actresses.
As the breeze blows over the troubles of a disaffected yet hyper-connected populace.
As the twitters and twatters drink flavored americanos and the sands blow by counting the moments towards eventual disembodied sigh. As we prep to do it all again tomorrow in our eternal hope to break free and find truth.
I will have another Hoho now.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009The Tatt Vortex
Yeeeahhhhh!!!!
There I was, settling in for a nice lunch of deviled eggs, powdered do-nettes and a tasty Dr. Brown’s Black Cherry soda, when I stumbled into this pic.
Now how am I supposed to motivate enough to find my socks and venture out to Trader Joes to restock the cookie and blood orange soda supply?
I must heed the warning: When stage-4 Bleethed out Douchebaguette and stage-4 Tatt Douche come together, Gozer will awaken.
