HCwDB of the Week: The Hipstersbag
F
or shame on those who thought it was a “weak” Weekly. Have you lost the ability to spot real world pubwankery? Are you so jaded that you can’t tag a Hipsterbag and feel good about your mock? And no, Kanye is not winning the Weekly.
The voters speak:
Tipsy McDouche: Hipster bag FTW. He stands out because any hottie being attracted to this type of douche is the hardest to understand. Maybe it is the mystery of wether or not he is homeless or inherited an old mans wardrobe. He has put the most effort to acquire the power of the douche.
Scrotum Pole: I cast my vote for the Hipsterbag. It takes balls to be so arrogant when you work at Starbuck’s and live in a room over your mother’s garage. I long to lick the tiny beads of sweat from diminutive Leslie’s body, as a hummingbird extracts nectar from a rare endangered flower.
Doucho Marx: Definitely the hipsterbag. I picture this psuedo-intellectual spouting to Leslie the symbolism of Transformers 2 and my brain just shuts down.
Mr. Scrotato Head: Hipsterbag, Whole Foods Assistant Manager FTW because, unlike DB1, I REFUSE to recycle my ‘bags. And because hawking overpriced organic veggies makes you a pretentious douche AND a corporate tool.
The Donger: This is what happens when “Duckie” from Pretty in Pink cruises the local high schools 20 years later. Unless he has a court order not to.
BillDouchiest the Wild Swine: While we’re at it, can we nuke Austin as well. It seems to be the epicenter of the whole Hippiebag/Phish movement. Just aim at the top of the clock tower.
Mr. White: Last week, I got to witness a hipsterbag in an art museum, who was being followed around by a mid-level hott who was clearly desperate for his approval, even though he didn’t deign to even speak to her for the most part. It was both heart-breaking and vomit-inducing. May Hipsterbags everywhere, and the infernal, shitty Williamsburgs they live in, burn.
Wheezer: Before the next photo here could be taken, Kanye West stepped out in front of the camera, bitching about Hipsterbag having two chicks hanging on him while Kanye was left giving himself the five-knuckle shuffle. A Hipsterbag win would just get Kanye even angrier, and buddy, I am ALL for that.
Jean Claude Van Douche: The Hipsterbag takes the win, because looking like David Koresh gets you a hott sandwich.
Hank Moody: This smelly trust funded scrote haunts my dreams and until he turn 30 will be a “cute,quirky, free spirit.” After that he becomes known as the loser he was all along.
KeirNotKeir: Hipsterbag and his ilk are a very dangerous breed whose numbers seem to be increasing at a staggering rate. This in itself should frighten us all but to make the siutation bordering on closer to terrifying, you never seem to see baby Hipsterbags. Which leads to my theory why Hipsterbags always look dirty. I believe that they manage to multiple like in the movie Gremlins – by having water poured on them. They only choose to bathe when a number of their crowd decide to move out of the neighborhood and they need to increase their numbers. That or they are going to a show that night that we are not cool enough to have heard of the venue and/or band performing.
Exactly. Good job people, and excellent linguistic mocking as always. Gold stars all around. This is non-traditional douche in presence of hott, but it is just as potent and must be called out. But Pepi Lepsi also got strong votes:
Horace Dangleballs: I’ll have to go with Pepi and the lovely Maid Marion. Not that he’s any more douchey than the other two pus-bags, but he gets extra credit for having suffered a stroke (unless he only got one side of his botoxed) and still managing to keep hold of the hott AND the cocktail.
Ol’Bag: Pepi and Maid Marion, because he made me say ,’Wha’F&ck?’, ‘sup widdat eyeball? My dog even looked at me and tilted her head. She wouldn’t lick this guy, and she licks my Chihuahua’s balls. Pepi should lick my chihuahua’s balls, but, then I’d need a new chihuahua, if it is even possible to need a new one, but, while Pepi is licking my chihuahua’s balls, Maid Marion would give me a pretty decent Rear-Admiral, me thinks.
Steve L.: a vote for Pepi Lepsy is a vote to beat back the sinister double agents seeking clemency for Pepi and masquerading as bag hunters at the same time. Pepi Lepsy. mugging Marion hott.
Troy Tempest: Hipsterbag’s douche is stronger, but Pepsi’s hot is hotter. Also, sans bling and blast shades and it would be hard to label him a douchebag. But Pepsi? His douche is so stronger, it sets off geiger counters, and his hott is so hott, she makes sidewinder missiles go off track.
Only Women Bleeth: The Hurt Licker is just an Asian facsimile of Deathtongue (whom I hate with a passion). Pepi Lepy has the hotter hott by far. Arrgghhh. Pepi Leper FTW
Pepi’s douche was undercut by his goofiness, but his lady was too tasty not to include. And finally, the Hurt Licker came in a solid but distant Third:
Captain Bringdown: Hurt Licker makes me want to shove my fist up my own ass and rip out my prostate, and force feed it to this poster boy for flammable idiocy while simultaneously (with the blood-free hand) swabbing Paula’s infected neck with a solution of iodine and Captain Juice. Quickly, before I passed out from blood loss.
Nicely done C.B. Hurt Licker deserved more mock than he got for licking that tasty loveliness. But this was the week to remember the pain of the Hipster Scrote. Medusa Oblongata takes us home:
I vote in the name of every hipsterdouche who is responsible for driving out the galleries where smut merchants like myself used to sell our works. I vote in the name of every hipsterdouche who has run off all the genuine tasty ethnic restaurants that were run by earnest, hardworking people, so they could be replaced with smug, overpriced wine bars. I vote in the name of every uppity twit who is too good to go to Salvation army and thrift shop, instead going to “thrift boutiques” and paying 6 bucks for old T-shirts instead of 50 cents. I vote in the name of every one of them who drove me to such insanity that I actually had to include “Wicker Park Dorks” on my 4th step resentments list (the term “hipster” had not yet been coined). In the mane of every one of these girl’s jeans-wearing, grandma’s-shades sporting, no grasp on true irony-having, I vote Hipsterbag FTW. And by W I mean Washing. Try some soap, you stinky, patchouli-doused nitwit. B.O. is soooooo not ironic.
Well said, M.O. It is not ironic. It is douchey.
