Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

E-Blo Voted

Last week’s winner, E-Blo, his assorted b-list bar hotts, and his vacant stare have all cast their vote for this week’s HCwDB of the Week.

Have you?

HCwDB of the Week

This is a deliciously douchey/boobie HCwDB of the Week, with three equally pungent pairings of the suckle-n-choad vying for the crown.

Which will rise to the top (bottom) of the boobie (douchey) universe? That’s up to you, fellow ‘bag hunters and huntresses. Here’s your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Guido Buttchinsky

An A-Lister in the classic Long Island / Jerz / Staten Island mold, and I do mean mold, Guido Buttchinsky is what this site is all about.

But what of the HC side of the ledger?

Tonya is cute, wholesome and drinking a Big Gulp. Her older sister/mom, is friendly enough, and has fishnet boobies.

But Guido’s overpowering Orangeness is so strong, so gel spiked, that even the background is turning orange.

A worthy Weekly finalist. But enough to take the prize?

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Lumpy and Steph

Steph is one of those strikingly natural beauties who causes heart palpitations and gout in agar test samples.

Hers is the smile of generational conflict.

His is the greasy mug of tool-douchery that can only be explained when one realizes he’s wearing matching necklace and belt buckle skulls.

Repeat.

He’s wearing matching necklace and belt buckle skulls.

Toss in the drink + hand gesture move, his second pic licking a blonde, and an ownership embrace of Steph in the rec room of an abandoned YMCA, and even the elfstones of Shannara can’t fully explain this.

It is tripe.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Kitchenbag

The Kitchenbag is classic lazy-eyed scrotifery.

Meghan is china-doll porcelain delightfulness, even if it appears she may be, as they say in Indochine, “Plump with child.”

I, for one, do not think she is preggers. I think she has a food baby and needs to burp. But I could be wrong.

Meatwad may have gotten her in child way, through the sheer power of his ginormous tatted up, yet limply hanging arm.

Does that arm even work?

It looks like a dead kangaroo hanging from a willow tree.

So them’s your three. And what a tough choice it is.

(Dis)honorable mention to the Urban Cowbag, Pubic Enemy, and the uberhott swarm of nondouchey regular guys who won the lottery in nymphette paradise, ‘Bags / Nottabags.

I do not envy you this task.

You must choose. Which of these three pics rises enough to call itself HCwDB of the Week?

Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.

Günther’s Summer Holiday

I’ve run this before, but it’s almost summer, the HCwDB show starts tomorrow at 5:30pm on MTV, and I feel like grooving out to some Günther.

For Günther has transformed the HCwDB into the performatively sublime.

Günther's Summer Holiday

I’ve run this before, but it’s almost summer, the HCwDB show starts tomorrow at 5:30pm on MTV, and I feel like grooving out to some Günther.

For Günther has transformed the HCwDB into the performatively sublime.

Las Vegas Fried Douchebags

I haven’t seen that much grease since the KFC on Route 9 exploded.

But Blondie’s Fifth Element bikini does eleven my herbs and spices.

Hipsterbag Saturday

Because nothing impresses the Bar Wenches quite like chin pubes and Pepsi logos.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Random thoughts on this Friday as E-Blo’s vacant stare echoes the vacuity of our culture:

I have decided that there will be no more mocking of clueless uberdouche buffoon Arthur Kade on this site.

Kadebag’s riff grows tiresome, and his shtick is getting obvious as some form of bizarro narcissistic performance attempt.

This is not to say that he’s not a douche. He is a heaping scrotestain of infected ball taint. That is certain. Only that he bores me. So he’s banished. For now, at least.

Otherwise, your humble narrator is gearing up for Monday and the debut of Is She Really Going Out With Him? on MTV. HCwDB goes televisual, bitches.

Here’s your links:

As promised, a second pic of last week’s HCwDB Finalist Calista, from the Sleeve Burglar pic. Calista is curved purity of oceanic hotness in a sea of innocent powdered butt fantasy. Delightful. Hers is the smile that drives men to war, innovation and drinking. There may be a second girl in that pic, I’m not sure.

Our abstract signifier of psychoanalytic projection, the Ubiquitous Red Cup is getting a makeover. It is Dada by way of Duchamp by way of Freud by way of Kegger.

This guy’s homepage is so chock full of scrotery, one hardly knows where to begin. Except that if your parents name you “Trygve,” it’s like you’re doomed to grow up to be a punkass mofo.

Emory goes to Acapulco. And brings the Scrotestainery.

On an unrelated music riff question, did Nostradamus give us an exact date when Bob Dylan and Tom Waits become the same person?

For those who still haven’t seen it yet (although it’s been blasted on every media channel), here’s 1980s hair-douche Bret Michaels getting flattened at the Tonys.

And finally… for all of your hard work this week mocking choad and lusting hott… here’s your Friday Artistic Ass Pear, high culture style. Porn for Manhattanites.

Fauxfliction

Smirk it up at the show tonight, Jimmy.

For no matter how much you rock out for Ilene’s amusement, tomorrow you’ll still have to take out the trash or mom’ll be, like, on your case all day.

Ask DB1: Ancillary ‘Bag Infection

—-
Dear DB1,

Please help.
-A stranger in a strange land
—–

There are a number of steps to decontaminate one’s self from intense ‘bagsposure, ASIASL. Firstly, since your email suggests you are female (fear of too much eye makeup and a tramp stamp) , you must immediately shower with rock salts and using a Swedish hott named Henriksa’s bobby socks as wash cloths.

That will cleanse you of the memory of this trauma. And give me happy thoughts.

Secondly, you must return to the scene of the crime. That’s right. You must go back. Once there, you must sarcastically mock from a reasonably safe distance. As a potential hott, this can easily be accomplished. Allow the virus to pass through you, but do not let it take hold. It can only take hold from fear.

Only when you mock without fear do the ‘bag/bleeth couplings become neutered and thus rendered a paper tiger. And by paper tigers, I mean boobies. And by boobies, I mean breasts.

Ask DB1: Ancillary 'Bag Infection

—-
Dear DB1,

Please help.
-A stranger in a strange land
—–

There are a number of steps to decontaminate one’s self from intense ‘bagsposure, ASIASL. Firstly, since your email suggests you are female (fear of too much eye makeup and a tramp stamp) , you must immediately shower with rock salts and using a Swedish hott named Henriksa’s bobby socks as wash cloths.

That will cleanse you of the memory of this trauma. And give me happy thoughts.

Secondly, you must return to the scene of the crime. That’s right. You must go back. Once there, you must sarcastically mock from a reasonably safe distance. As a potential hott, this can easily be accomplished. Allow the virus to pass through you, but do not let it take hold. It can only take hold from fear.

Only when you mock without fear do the ‘bag/bleeth couplings become neutered and thus rendered a paper tiger. And by paper tigers, I mean boobies. And by boobies, I mean breasts.