Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

HCwDB of the Week: The Tardopoulous Brothers and Stephanie McGee

Another tough week to pick a winning (losing) couple. We had Sportsbaggery and Hipsterbaggery. An Afflicted Gnome and an Otterhead. A Happy Rocker and Toxic Groin Shave Reveal.

And, for the hott side of the boobie hottie suckle thigh, the Crazy Eyes craziness of The Carla Cousins.

But no cohabit more perfectly encapsulates mock worthy tardation and curvy bouncy suckle thigh than the Tardopoulous Brothers and local Ace Hardware Beauty Contest winner, Stephanie McGee.

Our last entrant before next week’s HCwDB of the Month, The Tardopoulous Brothers are a fine example of Wonder Twin cloning douchery replication technology in action.

Stephanie McGee has an annoying voice but her bouncy waist sways are hypnotic hipnotics.

Together, they make a fine entrant in the Monthly and a reason for our Crusade to continue, unabated.

And so we mock onward. And your early morning humble narrator shifts his groinal area to prevent sweat and chafing, and heads for the kitchen for a bowl of Pops.

The Real Beastie Boys

There is hope for the future after all.

Ask DB1: Indoor Sunglasses Rule

——
Dear DB1,

Your advice is most sincerely appreciated.
– “Cory”
—–

The rule on this is clear. All sunglasses, even the “transitions” kind, must be removed at first entrance to any room operating at less than 20% outdoor lighting, unless or excepting that you:

1. Recently received lasik surgery
2. Are blind
3. Are Audrey Hepburn

No other exemptions are granted.

Friday Thoughts and Links

As Friday drifts into afternoon and Los Angeles refuses to warm up for spring, I ponder Melvin Hunting Inflata-Boobies.

Not just this particular Melvin.

All the Melvins hunting Inflata-Boobies.

Did we learn nothing from the 90s silicone years?

Have we not come far from those bleach blonde peroxided halcyon days of economic prosperity and pre-boy-band innocence?

Perhaps not. But we’ll always have HoHos.

Here’s Your Links:

Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “The supermodels, Willy? That’s all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.”

Lighting fail.

San Francisco chef Russell Jackson has good taste.

Correction: Toni Braxton did not say “I have a big-ass house, three cars and I fly first class all around the world. Some say I have the perfect life.” For the record.

American Iranians bust out some Persianbaggery.

Mecha Hineyho Fist Pumps by a homeless guy. Come at him, bro.

Clark Griswold still approves of 57 Year old Hottness. “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!” (splash)

The only known photograph of a nude Liz Taylor was released after her death, taken when she was 24. It is a tasty slice of nostalgia Hollywood dreamland Cleopatric suckle thigh.

Almost looks like a baby’s arm.

More trips down memory lane from the DB1’s earliest childhood memories growing up in Boston, the TV ad for the incomparable and wonderful Boston Museum of Science that ran for nearly ten years on local stations: It’s Fun to Find Out!

For the Hipsterbags, a new song: I Hate Your Mustache!

Some magazine writer guy theorizes that older men like younger women because of cultural influence. He forgot boobies.

Now before we get to the Pear, lets first celebrate The Hottest Hott in the History of Victorian Furnished Drawing Rooms. Her shakes and shimmies reinforce a belief in spiritual deities of divinity.

And from uberhott shake, we come to Pear:

Painted Hoop Pear

Your reward for a week of quality mock. And on towards the weekend shalst we traverse proudly, head high and sack taut.

Russell Has a Cold Neck

Either that or his neck just joined OPEC.

Yeah. That was an OPEC reference. Because it’s Friday. And your humble narrator is stumbling around his basement garage living quarters trying not to trip over the burnt grilled cheese covered hot plate and discovering if penicillin really does grow organically on socks.

But then there’s Art Student Marjorie. Who is still fooled by Hipsterbaggery.

And so the DB1 knows the fight must continue. To save boobie hottie suckle thigh. From having to spend two hours at Russell’s Williamsburg loft pretending vinyl sounds better.

Friday Haiku

Jack Surfkovsky pwns
Hotts at the “Fast Five” premiere,
Shows them “Lil’ Diesel.”

Johnny Bravo clone
gets “charged” standing next to hotts.
“Discharge” shows on shorts.

— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche

Hotts smile two thumbs up
Old man yells “Get off my Lawn”
Jack walks home alone.

— THEONETRUEDOUCHE

That’s a nice car Jack
Nothing says “I am not gay”
like a Ford Focus

— Jacques Doucheteau

Hotted-up Polo,
makes Chad happy, ’til ladies
look under his hood.

— Colossus of Choads

These PTP hotts
definitely “charged” Jack, on
his momma’s Visa.

— Mr. White

Jelly Dong Shifter
Mounted on the driver’s seat
With 5-point strap on.

— DarkSock

Just because you put
Your monster drink on top does
Not mean you own it.

— ehcuodouche

American Idiot

Billie Joe Armstrong just wrote a musical about redundant points.

Oh wait, he actually did.

Otterhead Makes Yet Another Redundant Point

Perhaps I’m making a redundant point about The Redundant Point.

But it’s a redundant point about The Redundant Point which actually reinforces its point by repeatedly repeating the redundancy of the Redundancy of the Point. Which is the point.

Which means it really isn’t redundant at all. The point about the Point. Not the Point.

Alex Rodweenus Makes “The Redundant Point”

Okay maybe I’m pissed that the Red Sox are the most craptastically overhyped disappointment since JarJar nuked the fridge, so I’m gonna take it out on Yankee Fan #2 here.

Yeah, you, Billy.

We haven’t properly mocked the Redundant Douche Point in awhile. So it’s worth making this salient point about our photographically obsessed culture once again.

No need to point at said Hot Chick.

We know.

Your restatement of the obvious + smug face (+ Yankee cap) = stage-2 douche violation. Your z-neck shirt makes you shoescrape.

Your Thursday Morning Coffee Drip

You needed something to go with that donut.

Like Cyclops Mike. Who’s looking at you. And at you.

And the Cindy Sisters. Who look rather sultry, even when buying their Lee Press On Nails after Happy Hour at the Red Snapper Bar & Grill where they waitress on Tuesdays and Fridays.