Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Sunny Meets The Tatt Vortex

—–
She’d heard the rumors.

And, nine months later, poor Timmy came along. Timmy would spend the grade school years trying to live down the ignominy of the wretched curse of… The Scarlett Doucher.
—–

This excerpt from “The Scarlett Doucher,” reminds you to support your local public library. For without books, there’d be no books.

Andy’s Glasses Mildly Amuse Katie

When the Polo logo has migrated from the chest area to down by the six pound watch, then you know we’re dealing with a new breed of Frat Douche entirely.

Katie is insecure because she’s big boned, but her zaftig strength only gives her the Semitic superpowers that would cause me to bitch slap a caftan chief with a dead marmot just for the chance to soup strain her talcum powder.

Katie is college hoth without knowing it hott (HWKIH). And for that, there is a peanut for Ganesh.

Whatever Happened to Uncle Richie and Aunt Maureen?

Now you know.

Benders in Reno never have happy endings.

It probably is best that your Dad stopped speaking to them after all.

HCwDB: Police Lineup Edition

Somewhere in this lineup of hot chicks with douchebags, I’ve carefully hidden the worst serving of potent orange groin shave reveal since April’s Marty.

Look closely.

Can you gouge your eyes out with plastic orange wine glasses?

Thankfully, Angie, Angie and Marie have agreed to each wear authentic Rube Goldberg Bathing Suits, providing us the perfect framework to appreciate the douchadox of their trashy hott Bleethery. Just pull the string and watch what happens!

Happy Rocco Approves of the HCwDB of the Week

Happy Rocco probably gets a nottabag. But you know he’s the kinda guy who’ll take Sir Ivan as his inspiration.

And that’s worrisome.

But why’d I really post this pic?

Because I’m in some R. Crumb Thunderthigh Crush fantasy thing right now, and Powergirls Kathy and Katie will crush me to a smoove, clutchy ecstacy of death buried in a pillow suckage gaspathon.

And if that ain’t inspiration for a Monday, I don’t know what.

HCwDB of the Week: Sir Ivan and Ashley and Ananda

Welcome back from Labor Day, fellow hunters. Hope you are well rested. Now let us resume the holy mock. For our mission continues.

Last week was a notable week for, how you say, bobby bobbs. We had porny bobbs and sweaty bobbs. Ginormous bobbs, Pro Boobs and The Holy Breasteses of the Iroquois Nation. Who also gave us Holy Suckle Pooch.

On the ‘bag side, there was The Unibro, who may or may not have me killed by Columbian drug lords, the uberskeezy Lonnie, and the odious Tatt Owl.

But our site is about hottie/douchey dialectics.

And none were worse than Sir Ivan’s creepy oldbaggery and the tasty popsicle youth tautchomp of Ananda and Ashley.

Sir Ivan’s toxic buffoonery has been bouncing around on the site for months, but this pic seems like the perfect time to mock his ass with a Weekly win (loss).

So this week’s Weekly winner goes to odious Oldbag, Sir Ivan, and his Great Nieces, Ashley and Ananda. Sure he’s kinda a “pro” douche. But if we don’t mock this saggy shweatyballs, then we do not do our job.

Place this pudgy oldbag and his hottie nieces in the next Monthly. And your humb narr for Pop Tarts.

Happy Labor Day!!

From all us here at HCwDB. And by all of us, I mean me. And the occasional horse peer.

Remember to take a moment to honor the labor movements of history as you BBQ your burgers and dogs. For without them, your sorry ass would’ve been cleaning chimneys at 9 years old.

Regular updates resume tomorrow. Today, we drink, burp, scratch and recline.

Where’s Jean-Claude Van Damme?

Inspired by a Vin Douchal comment in the Unibro thread, we’re gonna play a little Labor Day Weekend game.

Somewhere in this trailer for one of the more hilariously dated of 1980s cinema, I’ve carefully hidden a boogying Jean-Claude Van Damme in a unitard.

Look closely.

Can you give him the clap?

Comment of the Week: Douche Wayne

Douche Wayne invects on the state of youth marketing and consumer product fetishization in last week’s ‘Bag Daddy ‘Bag thread and wins the coveted HCwDB Comment of the Week.

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As I stroll through the New Jersey malls with my own sons searching for stores that still sell cd’s, I witness these crimes firsthand.

I remind my boys of their grandfather’s sage observation: “No one is completely useless. You can always serve as a bad example.”
———

Labor Day Weekend Thoughts and Links

In this, the age when politicians routinely piss on the working class of this country, it’s important for us to take a moment remember what Labor Day really stands for.

Those among us who aren’t wealthy, beautiful celebrities or powerful wall street titans.

Those among us who don’t blow all their time and money on a life of privilege getting stupid tatts and spikey hair and lounging by the poolside in Vegas.

The regular joes.

The people who used to be celebrated by this country as the backbone of our nation are now seeing themselves targeted as criminals, called lazy, shiftless, or deserving of what they’ve gotten. Rich and powerful clowns, coming from the same narcissistic cesspool that produced douchebag culture, now routinely equate the labor class with failing in life.

These preening egos in suits and ties, douchebags of the worst sort, get on our TV and lecture us like their money means they are enlightened. They actually believe, or have convinced themselves, that their money was earned because of the greatness of their “individualism.” In a vacuum. And the rest of us need to be like them. Or we get what we deserve.

These flaming pudwacks who’ve read too many Ayn Rand fantasy novels are insecure enough not to want to understand the network around them in which they are graced to live. How those at the bottom also produce the value they think they “earn” from the society that holds the rules and structures together to produce our collective national wealth.

Don’t be one of those asswipes.

Remember what Labor Day really stands for. Income does not define your rank in this world, no matter what how the media now stigmatizes and shames those at the bottom as lazy and shiftless.

There are different standards. Standards we used to apply before a few billionaires with too much power and too much insecurity decided to teach us all the lessons of fantasy in which they are Atlas, and we are the teaming hordes, the unwashed, clawing at their greatness.

F@#k them. No one “earns” a billion dollars. It’s not possible. They are not heroes. They are insecure fools, confused by their success and seeking a philosophy to justify their narcissism. Even a philosophy as fantastical as Scientology and as logical as Narnia.

I’ll take the guys in front of Home Depot over the jackass from Wall Street any day of the week and twice on Sunday. And on Monday, I’ll tip my Ubiquitous Red Cup to honor those who don’t have anything, but still get up and go to work every day.

Here’s your links:

Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “If a fox stole your chickens… Would you slaughter your pig because he saw the fox? No. You would hunt the fox… You would find where it lives and destroy it! And how do we do this? Become a fox.”

Speaking of foxes and chickens, if you feel like trippin’ out this weekend, dig the Animal Beatbox. Skip to 1:50 for a glimpse into the DB1’s secret fantasies.

Leisure Diving. Photographic genius and summer slackerdom in one creative package.

My latest quartasian (alas not Semitic) semi-celebrity hottie fixation is Marie Digby, singer or something. I would sexy love her legs for a fortnight or six.

An eagle-eyed reader trolls the web for porn and discovers HCwDB Hall of Pear legend Ass Pear LaPlante has been hijacked! Ransom is only $1.99 for unlimited downloads.

Pink Dudes Want to Party. Hot chicks don’t.

Finally, a justification for Facebook. Remember, it’s not bestiality if you groom them first.

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I first discovered the compelling power of the uberhott, it would be when I first saw this scene from “Malibu Bikini Shop” on HBO in 1986. Barbara Horan changed everything about my understanding of life. And sort of for the worse. The desire to gnaw has never stopped plaguing my waking and dream lives like a propulsive compulsion of redirected primal humpty hump.

You aren’t a true Lebowski fan unless you can argue either for or against The Donny Theory.

Speaking of humpty hump, let us not forget how even nature likes to remind us of the Pear. As we appearciate:

Slender Supple Tropical Pear.

Less meaty than her American cousin Pears, it is still firm of chewtoy. And well worth guiding us into the weekend.

Have a great Labor Day. Posts’ll continue a little over the weekend, and then we’se gearin’ up again next week.