Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Pop Quiz: Guess What It Says On The Back of Clownboy’s Shirt

Clownboy wants you to come at him, bro.

But what does it say on the *backside* of Clownboy’s shirt?

Is it:

A. “You Jelly?”

B. “Bros Before Hos.”

C. “Pump Fists Not Gas”

D. “My Vocabulary Is Limited And My Anger Issues Are Unresolved”

Answer here.

Friday Thoughts and Links

HCwDB of the Month winner, The Gynochin, has ditched Brunette Rhea for Hippie Hillary, a downgrade perhaps, but a tasty and bright morsel of thigh chomp in her own girl-next-door way.

But the popped collar kissy lips douchey of the ‘Chin remind us of a worthy Monthly winner building his case. Who will join him? Some quality submissions this week, and your humble narrator feels his mock impulse sated.

In other site news, the new spam filter is inexplicably holding up some comments from appearing, so if there’s a delay between your post and it actually showing up, I blame Donkey Douche.

But the genius of the threads is what keeps me going, so keep up the always amusing daily articulations of the mock.

And on that note, I begin drinking. Or continue it, depending on your point of view.

Here’s your links:

Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “A strange man defecated on my sister.”

In the Jerz, even the drunken late night brawls are douchey swamplands of homoeroticism and hair grease.

L.A. Hipster Hotties, “Garfunkel and Oats” produced an official video for their track, This Party Took a Turn for the Douche. Denis Leary approves.

S.I. swimsuit model Brooklyn Decker punches holes in my soul.

High tech videocamera technology, boredom and a Vegas hotel room all collaborated to create something pretty damn cool.

This is what happens when Grieco gets in the Grotto.

Were there douches in the middle ages? Sort of.

Mylie Cyrus. Former Jailbait + Ducklips = Why I don’t write about celebrities very often.

From the latest in one joke blogs that’ll quickly be forgotten (five years after they said that about HCwDB), I give you Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bieber.

But you’re not here for meta-comments. You’re here for Pear. And here ya go:

Mocha Pear.

For the Sista Hott loves among us.

Go forth unto eve, and do good. And by good, I mean boobie brush when reaching for the salt.

Aqua Poodha

Stripey aqua shades and “Fleur de Lis” shoulder pads may please Pierce Patchet at the Night Owl Diner, but it remains a stage-3 violation of clubwankchoadery

Rocker horns Darla should not have taken her younger sister to be humped by such an atrocity. The road to Bleeth has begun.

The Greasepitz Take a Break

Sometimes all that douche bronzin’ to hit on the housewives at the “Male Social Revue” takes a lot out of a guy.

And ya just gotta kick back and relax with some of the chorus members from next door’s Cirque du Soleil show, “Overe Priced Shite.”

EDIT: Whoops, had a premature pubjaculation this morning before the Haiku. Now it’s ready for collective mock.

Friday Haiku

Feldman and The King,
With Harem of Giggle Hotts,
Dream a Little Dream.

3 girls in this pic
Not even close to born yet
When Goonies came out

— jonezy

Misuse of water:
instead of drinking it, please
pour it on boobies.

— Wheezer

Wednesday I lost job
Today I see this picture
Tomorrow shooting spree

— MC 900 Foot Douchebag

With “The Lost Girls”
on the set of “Meatballs 5″
Feldman still a douche

— dknutty

Old Johnny Cougar,
Clings to his washed-up career,
Yo, “Get a Leg Up”

— Rockabilly Johnny and the Electric Foreskin Benders

Yul Boner stars in
Timeless musical classic
The King and Pink Eye

— Mr. Scrotato Head

Descartes Said, “I Am.”
Dochieous says “I Am Poo.”
Feldman Snorts Another Line

— DoucheyWallnuts

Bachelor party?
Guests won’t throw rice at wedding
but Valtrex instead.

— Eliza Douchecoo

Mandarin Orange is Still Mandarin, Still Orange

At least now we’ve confirmed that 2010 Douchie Award finalist for Orangest Orange, (barely losing to Dr. Redderick Lobster), The Mandarin Orange, is still tanning at Nuke ‘Em High.

Oh lithe brunette under eating and slightly malnourished Valerie sisters. Your crazy eyes suggest a steep downhill descent into anti-depressants, child support payments and alternative therapy treatments for most of your 30s. But for now, you “Woo!” with curvy and taut aplomb. And so I approve of your Wooery with lusty gaze and slight thigh itch.

The King Continues to Reign

While other legendary douchechoads began to age at exponential rates while chasing the party hotts, the King remains unperturbed.

Here we find the King discovering the greatest set of gnaw legs since KFC introduced spicy hot wings in 1991.

With greasy hair and chin pube, the King is a douchal force to be reckoned with.

Dieter Von Choaalsmark

He has ways of making us talk.

And they involve tanning beds.

But props to Bridgitte for perfecting the Chantal Goya in Godard’s Masculin Féminin hair.

Yeah, that was a reference to 1960s late Nouvelle Vague cinema. I need a coffee.

Kylie discovers Male Strippers are Shiny, Tatted and Orange

Yet giggles anyway. So sad.

And, as we know, there’s only one male stripper who’s ever earned a total and complete nottadouche pass for boldness of vision in use of a hot dog bun.

His name is Nick.

Or is it Mr. Dick?

Tom Hanks, take us away.

Here Comes the Spiker, Doo doo doo doo…

From June of last year we’ve been monitoring aging, broken-down rocker douche haunting the clubs in search of tasty barely legal pahoitytoit.

But we do not judge The Spiker for oggling tasty barely legal pahoitytoit.

We judge him for spreading toxic skull grease in presence of stunning Librarian Hott Lauren.

Yes, you, Librarian Hott Lauren. Your Mayan Eye of Coitus sends ladybugs into spontaneous fits of addled joy and spontaneous combust. I would only hesistantly thigh massage and brief suckle until you grew weary of my efforts, and then I would run off to cry for the crisis of meaning in a world caught in transnational geoglobal crisis until you called a cab and deleted me from your cell phone.