Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Happy Halloween!!

Boo!!

I refer, of course, to

< ——

An atrocity wrapped in a riddle, surrounded by a toxic coating of grease, slime, and inflated skin cells.

Your humb narrs is drunk on rice mead and my daughter is a strawberry.

Pop Quiz: Cardboard Cutouts or Not Cardboard Cutouts

Okay kids, time to play the game that’s sweeping the nation (and soon to be a reality show on Fox):

Cardboard Cutouts? Or Not Cardboard Cutouts?

Answer now!

Bonus points for finding The Nipple of Shame

12 Years a Douchebag

Sometimes we as a society need to confront the ugly truth about America’s douchey past.

By facing the horrible realities of our buried legacy of country music, patriotic leg warmers, and kitten shirts.

Sox!!!!!!!

Booya.

Mr. Broboto Fondles Stephanie

Remember kids, fire extinguishers are only for tall people.

Breaking: Greasy Chefbag Guy Fieri Screams at his Hairdresser

Longtime HCwDB (without the HC) clown Guy Fieri got into a screaming hissy fit/fight with his personal hairdresser.

I guess the douchespikes didn’t turn out with proper spung.

Your Wednesday Bros and Hotts on a Boat

“Bro!! Pass the Bud Light Lime!!” sad the cat with a wicked grin.

And everybody got syphilis.

— Excerpt from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Doucheyland

After the Horrokiss

Greaser Matt and Hott Layla’s sister, Hott Tonya, pose for posterity’s sake.

And by posterity, I mean posterior.

And by posterior, I mean the Baby Tebus pooping on Gandhi.

Horrokiss

Show me one Halloween event remotely as scary, puke worthy or toxic crotch lice inducingly awful as Greaser Matt making out with Hott Layla, and I’ll buy you a gold plated raisin.

But only a 14 karat gold plated raisin. No 24 karats all up in this shiz.

On my way back to LA from Vegas.

The craps table is a mean and heartless she-bitch.

Vegas Is Filled with Douchefluff

Stop the presses. Wait, what? Who dat say what?

I’m in Vegas.

And everyone looks like these two.

Amish faux punk doucheclowns and stripper hotts who smell like glitter, cheap hand sanitizer, and wet tobacco.

‘Tis true. Your humb narrs has chosen to return to the land of douche mecca that I first came to, so long ago, with notebook (and camera) in hand in the dark days of 2006. Back when I first began to document the emerging hottie/douchey plague.

And now I return, seven years later, to see from whenst the scrotal/hott cohabit has mutated, grown, shrunk, or otherwise stank up the strip.

HC1 and I dropped off the poop machine with the grandma and hit the road.

Vegas, baby.

I’m talking Swingers Vegas.

Not Hard Rock Douche Mecca Vegas.

The battle continues. HC1 and I will be mocking.

From a safe distance, of course.

EDIT: Good news from the front lines