Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Goldilocks and The Three Beards

Oh Katie on the far right, how I see your joyful glee. Like September rain or another stupid 80s song, I take you for karaoke and wine shooters until you have to go pee, and the bathroom is too dirty, and so we wander the streets of Minneapolis and make out by a mailbox.

And then I go home.

For the stains of Marty’s facial pubes are uponst your neck, and the tragedy is too much for me to overcome. Even as you cry a plaintive “Woo!” in the distance as I walk away.

"Die Antwoord" Freaks Out David Letterman

Brilliant surrealist performance art?

Gussied up Eurotrash by way of South African douchepuddlery?

You know where I stand. I have chunks of edgier rebellion in my stool.

Jeff's 10 Degree Hat Tilt

10 Degree Hat Tilt.

Still out there.

Still hitting on Angie like it’s 2007.

Mike Wins At The Game Of Life

I got nothin’ on this guy. Nothin, I tells you.

Even the faux 70s glasses aren’t enough to convict. And so, by the by-laws I was sworn to uphold and without evidence to convict, I must acquit.

It pains me to do so. But it is true.

A begrudging Nottadouche and goinpeace, Mike. Even though I have my suspicions of douchery.

Cheryl, you are the hottest purity of suckle pooch to grace the butt globble since the days Tristam Shandy entertained the proletariat whilst robber barons stole. I drink the perfection milkshake of your cheekbones, dream of slapping your outer thigh with red licorice, and whimper for the inevitable tragedy of the corporeal form that awaits us all.

One Word Tuesday

Headwound.

I'll Take "Awkward Hair Kiss" for $400, Alex

Doe-Eyed Jenny’s youthful exuberance ticks the collective uvula, while Tattbro Jim plays in the D-League.

And by D-League I mean DOUCHE league! Heh, you didn’t see that one coming.

I need a coffee.

Heavy is the Douche That Tatts the Crown

But he is not a King yet.

And before you claim that memorial tatts should be respected, let me remind you that I have buried many a beloved alpaca out by the water vapor farms, and yet I have memorialized none of them in tattoo form.

None that is, except for Shminkles.

For Shminkles was the cutest alpaca of all.

Foolio's Crotch Warning is Literal

Maureen’s Spring Break took a turn for the worse when she thought Foolio’s crotch guns were a metaphor for gangstaism, not the herp.

Suzanne Brings Joy to Starving Children in Africa

And by starving children in Africa, I mean me, bored and on the internet. For she has the rarefied Mayan Eye of Repeated Night Coitus. I would prostate myself before her sweaty sports bra after a vigorous session of hatha flow yoga, chanting ancient Gaelic melodies in a squeaky falsetto, just for the chance to gum gnaw her sweatsocks while she complained about her abusive stepfather.

You do not want to look at what the Boba Brothers keep in their closets at home. Trust me.

Molester Mitch Approves of the HCwDB of the Week

Molester Mitch approves of anything that distracts while he employs “accidental butt brush fondle” strategy on barely legal bartender butt.