Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Breaking ‘Bag To the Future

It’s like a prom photo from a Bizarro 1950s Enchantment Under the Sea dance in which 40 year old douchebags travel back in time to go to prom with their mother, and then end up cooking meth out of a camper before they die of cancer.

Wait.

I appear to be mashing up my pop culture references in some Brundelfy-esque clash of contradictory signifiers.

Lets start over. His chin dribble looks like melted ant raisins. Mama Mary was once very hott, and the echo remains.

Tommy Greasepitz Is Not Intimidated by the HCwDB of the Week

Until D.J. Froholio can inscribe Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses in Sanskrit on his pecs while pulling A-List Party Hots like the grown up Beezus and Ramona, he ain’t got nuthin’ on Tommy Greasepitz.

HCwDB of the Week: D.J. Froholio and Hangin’ On Kaylie

Last week was a particularly skeezy week of toxic nastiness. Between The Wiggas with Pear, Brothabag Jesus and Tall Jenny, The Duckface of Aswipius the III, the Ode to Tommy Pak, and the horrifying Crisis on the Way to Enlightnment. Yeesh.

The only true competition, however, was Armenian Glendale Toyota Dealer Hatoonian and his hottie Jenga.

We even had Granpa Oldbag and the Guy Who Flips off Camera Guy.

But for sheer classic assbaggery in a D.J. modus, D.J. Froholio is our winner (loser), and Hangin’ On Kaylie reminds us all to appreciate the mid-30s party girl confused about the rules nature has established regarding age and mating calls.

And lets not forget D.J. Froholio and Needin’ a Sammich Linda.

Hard to call this coupling a favorite in the next Monthly, but there’s more than enough HC/DB dialectics taking place to earn the Weekly.

Now someone shave that ‘fro with a rusty razor and put on some Flo-Rida for Kaylie to dance to.

And me, I’se a gettin’ a Pop Tart. Microwaved. Cuz that’s how I roll. With breakfast pastries.

“How to be a Douchebag”

Here’s an amusing and well written Canadian instruction manual.

“Dodies” the Confused Dog for the win.

Comment of the Week: Barron Von Douchehoven

Another of HCwDB’s many Barons wins the coveted CotW with this gem from Thursday’s Asswipius the III:

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Once as a young growing up in a quaint gingerbread Bavarian village, you know the one. I happened upon a near-fatally contuse and bruised tortoise left on a moist cobblestone road to expire. In haste I gathered him and his belongings into my satchel and rushed him to my “hidden place” where my childhood accomplice Kroeger (not to be confused with a Rev. by a similar name) and I generously nursed him back to health. Using only the finest faux gilded salad spoons that money could buy we would pry provisions into his ever hesitant gob. I never imagined in a hundred years that my wee countryman would grow into such an laudable gunk-mire of a thug.
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Then today I see him frolicking with a deuce of Bleeth and their delicate suckle trove. He is now known as “Asswipus”, not “the Great”, or “the ever thankfull”, no! So I say unto Asswipus, go! and enjoy the unholy Douchepocalypse, for I have scratched myself of you and your evil ways.

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