Douchie Awards
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Wednesday, December 7, 2011
- Bulging “swole” muscles (male)
- Bulging “swole” implants (female, and sometimes male)
- Vacuous stare (both)
- Shrunken quasi-Orwellian dumb-speak vocabulary (both, LULZ-OMFG)
- Mass consumption of over-marketed low-quality distillates (both)
- Orange-hued outer-wrap (both)
- Shaved genitalia (both)
- Raisinette testes (male)
- Long whorish nails, smelling faintly of tobacco, free vodka and doo-doo (female)
- Miniscule brain-box set atop a mass of bovine-steroid swole meat? CHECK!
- Enormous lolling boob-steaks, engorged to balloon-squeak proportions? CHECK!
- Instinctual self-awareness when in proximity of cameras? CHECK!
- Same go-to flex-pose? I offer this:
Best Golden Globes (Bracket #1)
Here’s a category where we all win. 2011 was so overflowing with globedom, that I’m actually gonna hold two votes, so here’s Bracket #1:
Best Golden Globes Finalist #1: Boobsy McBoobster
Accompanying DJ Dudjbagos, who may or may not be in the picture, from October.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Best Golden Globes Finalist #2: Stephanie McGee
From back in April, these twin mounds of heaving cleavite and plump fertility beckon even the weariest of spiritual travelers. Stephanie may be up for the Yearly along with the Fratbros, but Stephanie’s Stephanie’s also deserve the nom (nomnom) in this category as well.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Best Golden Globes Finalist #3: The Holy Breasteses of the Iroquois Nation
From back in late August, these collegiate tanned sunshiney rays of Nativist anti-imperialism are the smallpox blankets to my societal control.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Best Golden Globes Finalist #4: Nayara’s Grapefruits
While not as overt as some of the other candidates, these twin globes require studious examination for aesthetic appreciation of their superior merits.
From early July, a darkhorse contender, but a worthy one.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Boobs.
Boobies.
Vote now.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011Douchiest Hair: The Kennedy Headwound ‘Bag
While there were many douchey-ass fauxs and hawks and stupidheads, hands down the douchiest of the year was from February, The Kennedy Headwound ‘Bag.
Back… and to the left… back… and to the left….
What? Too soon?
Don’t forget, voting is still open in the first bracket of the HCwDB of the Year, and tomorrow brings two more voting categories. So lets a’keep this Douchie Awards ceremony a’rollin.
And br a’rollin, I mean me, drinking box wine. And scratching myself.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011Most Trashcan to the Head Worthy: Gynochin
Medusa Oblongata hands out the award:
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For those of you kids too young to remember, trash cans used to be made out of sheet metal, like the one Oscar The Grouch resides in. Not like that floppy Rubbermaid piece of junk your dad bought at Walmart.
Anyway, these trash cans were gigantic, heavy monstrosities, and to slam one over someone’s head would cause them more than permanent damage; it would also cause the greatest sensation of pride and pleasure that you, as the slammer, could ever experience. The cries of your newborn child would fall on deaf ears as you blissfully reminisced about the time you picked up that trashcan and slammed it over ___________’s head.
Knowing that joy quite well myself, it is with a big smile and grave intestinal distress that I announce this year’s winner of “Most Trashcan To The Head-Worthy.”
Despite the many gut-roiling candidates throughout the year, only one truly comes to the forefront, and that is Gynochin.
He tore out of the gate, leaping the arc from the tail end of 2010, taking the very first DBOTW in January.
Yeah, remember when we had a weekly? Those were good times. No, really, I’m over it. I was just sayin’. Anyway, Gynochin came around for another swing and took the monthly for February, displaying a powerful level of irritating douchiness that was not to be ignored.
I reviewed the rest of the year and found some very worthy candidates. Another early arrival, Captain Shnook, bringing the Popeye-esque creepiness,
Monthly winner Clifford The Big Red Bag, for crimes against denim, and the poolbaggery supreme of the crap-tat-tastic Joey Lumpcrustowitz.
However, I still kept coming back to Gynochin as the winner.
I tried my best to put my slimy finger on what was the one overriding factor that would make me want to slam a trashcan over his head. And then it suddenly became clear……Acoustics.
Look at the shape of his head. That elongated (possibly empty) cranium, the jutting cheekbones, the kneecap for a chin. I realized at that moment, the sound of the can slamming down on his noggin would be the most tremendously chakra-aligning sound mortal ears could ever hear. The shape and proportions of his head would allow not only for a tremendously thunderous impact, but also for maximum reverberation post-impact. He’s a sound effects engineer’s dream come true. Pure acoustic properties, as well as a tepid chaser of smug made Gynochin the clear choice. And also those glasses. Sweet baby Jeebus, those glasses.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011Greasiest Grease Stain: Mister Zebracrotch
Musicfanatic hands out the award:
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Okay, well, this was a hard one to do…
The winner is…
Mister Zebracrotch! Yay… err.. uhh… he makes me want to gag.
Yeah, he’s an oldbag too, but he’s greasey… Remember the old Simpsons episode when Homer and Bart did a ‘get-rich-quick’ scheme, and stole grease from Groundskeeper Willie’s grease sink for profit? If you remember, Willie had it for his retirement. Well, Zebracrotch’s grease could probably be obtained, and the funds could pay off all of America’s debt.
Yeah, not realistic, but hey… Dreams can come true.
Your runner up is ‘Your dad wears ripped jeans’ guy (not as greasy, but I mainly chose him because the cougars are hot… So we all win.
The second runner up is ‘Signs of the Douchepocalypse #44’
They have lots of grease, but they are not special. They don’t stand out like Zebracrotch.
So there you have it. Are your eyes burned yet?
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Douchiest Hand Gesture: He Is Not the Greatest
tall guy hands out the award:
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How do we measure Douchiest Hand Gesture? A self-branding logo that bears no real substance or purpose save the bright, sharp dazzle similar to a fluorescent light? An unburdening of what passes for the douche soul that occupies the duel worlds of sneer and showmanship? An empty gesture inherently found in all grade-A level douchxploitation?
The answer to this delicate question can only come from us because the douche, who takes refuge in cliche, is not good at honest self-description. Therefore, while It fulfills some atavistic longing in its own right, no authority more useful and necessary can be granted to those appointed to answer this question.
However if the dog standing beside him is anything to go by, case study # 1 “Markie” from last March raises (lowers) his particular level of ineptness to new depths of animal cruelty. Thank you, Markie, for you have done your bit. We spectators marvel at the spectacle of your shirtless tie move. Now please return to tearing wings off butterflies.
Throughout 2011 the group shot was widely contested with superb (dreadful) candidates representing every month of the calendar in various conditions of companionable insobriety. In an effort to demonstrate the things that matter in his world, while establishing a douche presence via a staggeringly high number of regrettable breaches far beyond anything that is honest and considered, our second case study King DH has a message.
Case study # 3 Busher Von Chin appears to be getting a little too carried away with his asking-to-be-counted-in raised finger move (with black varnished pinkie).
At the top of the greasy totem pole sits our winner (loser). Who by combining his patented ringed forefinger, thought provoking detachment gesture with (ir-)relevant hat prop and shirt of lurid pink underneath the shiny black Gortex vest brings an emperor Tiberius feel to the category with a hard-hitting passion – or (self-) loathing – that practically screams, ‘let them hate me as long as they fear me’.
So my fellow mockers, I, tall guy, humbly offer you my selection for Douchiest Hand Gesture of 2011 – He’s Not The Greatest (because he’s not…)
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Hottest Girl Next Door Hott: Hottie Heather
douche equis hands out the award:
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The Hottest Girl Next Door Hott award carries with it a tremendous burden of tradition. Not because the award itself has such a long history, but because the very notion of the Girl Next Door is redolent with the aroma of Norman Rockwell, sad partings before going off to war, sundaes at the soda fountain, and necking at the drive-in.. It is an award wreathed in Americana, and as such it is appropriate that I, the house Republican, be the one to give it away.
The defining characteristics of the Girl Next Door read like a catalog of the idealized American Girl of yore. A certain innocence. The glow of health. Soft, tender skin. Long hair. Brunette (because I say so). The sense that, behind the barely perceptible Mayan Eye of Coitus, there lurks a seething erotic fervor.
And somewhere within it all the idea that yes, you, the Boy Next Door, might have a chance with her – a consummation devoutly to be wished, and indeed lingeringly longed for during languid, lonely nights of teenage male, er, introspection.
Though the general success rate of said lonely males with the Girl Next Door might reach the low teens of percent, it is those successes that a fellow looks back upon with a certain wistful pleasure; those fumbling, exciting, secret encounters that made every breath, at the time, seem to last forever, but now appear as some of the few fleeting instants of true feeling amid a life’s worth of experience.
It is with a nostalgic sigh, and not in the slightest bit because she looks exactly like Katie C., whose manual manipulations provided so much that a young man needed at the time that he needed it most, that I give the award for Hottest Girl Next Door Hott to Hottie Heather. Her suave ability to ignore the revolting attentions of Mr. Hawk and give me “the look” lets me know that she really likes me – I think – and if only I could get up the courage to ask her out I just know we’d have a lot of fun together.
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Clearest Proof of Natural Selection: Peter Pumpin’Head and Mary Mammageddon
Lets hand out our first official Douchie Award, presented by long-time ‘bag hunter master, the one and only DarkSock:
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Feckless Readers: I am humbled to present to you alert readers The Clearest Proof of Natural Selection for 2011. And by “humbled” I mean “mildly nauseated”. I offer, for your examination, Peter Pumpin’Head and his partner in genetic crime, Mary Mammageddon:
Why do these two exhibit the clearest proof of Natural Selection in the douchebag wilderness? First, let us define exactly what “Natural Selection” is, by definition, in case there are any Tea Party members in the crowd:
“Natural selection is the non-random process by which biologic traits become either more or less pronounced in a population; it is a key mechanism of evolution.”
Or, in this particular case, devolution. The Grieco virus mutation which we fight today became pandemic in the early 90’s. In normal human populations, the emergence of genetic traits emerge over the course of centuries. However douchebags and ho’s make and break sexual alliances like soiled socks in the coin-op dryer of Fate in the Laundromat of Oblivion. The typical douche/bleethe coupling yields prolific and non-exclusive mating sessions much like a vibrating school bus filled to capacity with stoned hypersexual bonobo apes. You get the picture. For these reasons, in just over a decade the highest-desired values in the mating selections of the Alpha-Douches and Yogurt-Drips have become emergent, yea, dominant in a frighteningly short time frame. The most visibly emergent of these douche-desired physical attributes include:
As evidence, I present you with your 2011 Clearest Proof of Natural Selection for 2011: The unholy trinity of Peter Pumpin’head and Mary Mammageddon (she counts as two), as they clearly exhibit the following attributes:
I stand by the statement I made about these two preening poon/peen pot roasts back in May during my hazy two-week reign of this site:
“Peter Pumpin’Head and Mary Mammageddon: two textbook narcissists, staring into one another, not seeing the other but rather themselves refracted off of the slick glossy sheen of their own ego; their strutting ids run amok, flexing in the funhouse mirrors of each other’s thin magazine-glossy souls.”
If left to continue reproducing and devolving, I expect their progeny by the year 2030 to be nothing more than a shrunken hairless penis/testes combo attached to a swollen writhing bicep, inch-worming its way into what looks like the face of an English bulldog being crushed between two meat-balloons. Unless you want to live in a world inhabited by such Von-Goolian wet dreams, you must continue to fight the good fight.
“Oh, DarkSock, you’re just being an alarmist”, you say. Well, you’re wrong, ass-sausage. Peter Pumpin’Head and Mary Mammageddon have already had an offspring, and it makes my case more eloquently that words ever could. I present to you their Unholy Love Child, which they keep chained inside of a pole-barn, away from an unsuspecting Public’s scornful view…BEHOLD WHAT DOUCHE HATH WROUGHT:
Look at it….LOOK AT IT! But take heart, my brothers and sisters, both Human and Canadian: It’s not too late. To whip it. Into Shape. Shape it up; Get Straight. Go forward, try to detect it. It’s NOT too late…to whip it.
Whip it good.
– DarkSock, esq.
Monday, December 5, 2011HCwDB of the Year: Bracket 1
Bring it. The first of three brackets of three in the semifinals, to determine our final three in next week’s HCwDB of the Year. Each bracket consists of three Monthly winners plus one Wild Card of uberdouchery that deserves consideration.
HCwDB of the Year Finalist #1: The Smarm Candy and Patti
From mid-March, this Monthly winner brought uberdouchey attitude, Members Only craptastitude, and the tasty girl-next-door gigglefest that is Patti.
This pic is a deceptively simple battle of hottie/douchey cohabit, and should not be immediately dismissed.
Look at Smarm Candy’s face.
Look at it!
Now look away.
Now back at it!
Douche.
Mmmm… Patty’s next door chomple gnaw.
Quality.
HCwDB of the Year Finalist #2: Gynochin and Brunette Rhea
Our first HCwDB of the Month from back in February, Gynochin’s power of stupidface and perfect hottness of Brunette Rhea took down the powerhouse Carla and the Bros ™, and Vegas Staypuft Pantywankers in a Gynochinslide.
But Gynochin didn’t stop gynologizing there.
There was also Gynochin with Perky Peri. And there was
Gynochin and Rhea and Gynopenis Nose.
Yechhhhh. Doucheface abounds like rotting corpustules.
That’s a potent combination of douche face and uberhottness, well worthy of consideration to make the 2011 Finals.
But there’s two more to come:
HCwDB of the Year Finalist #3: The Tardopoulous Brothers and Stephanie McGee
Boobs and Bros.
A potent and toxic combination, captured perfectly in frozen HCwDB dialectic.
Do not pshaw the Tard Bros and Steph McGee’s McGees at taking the first slot in the Yearly finals.
For they are collective real world hiphop wigga Eminem or that flash in the pan Asher kid from the suburbia rot.
They make me diaper crap in my future depends when I retire.
They eat linseed oil.
And puke it up
Okay, one more. The wildcard:
HCwDB of the Year Finalist #4: The Greasepitz and Stephanie and Suzanne
Barely losing in the Monthly to The Smarmcandy, the Greasepitz built up quite a (greasy) body of professsional Paid-to-Douche work over the year. Beginning with Stephanie and Suzanne in February, witness the run:
The Greasepitz Take a Break
The Greasepitz Pump Each Other Up
Crazy Eyes Killa (Real Name is Jared)
Name that Greasepitz
The Greasepitz Pose with the Amanda Sisters
Tommy Greasepitz is not Intimidated by the HCWDB of the Week
Yech. And quality hotts all around.
But enough to win entrance into the Finals of the Yearly?
Now I turn it over to you.
Which coupling most deserves consideration to compete in the HCwDB of the Year?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Saturday, December 3, 2011The 2011 Douchie Awards Start on Monday
Prepare.
Scratch Yourself.
Enjoy a tasty HoHo.
Saturday, November 19, 2011The Judges Get Ready for the 2011 Douchie Awards
The following regs will be handing out awards at our all-star gala 2011 Douchie Awards ceremony, beginning December 5th:
Douchiest Douche-Face — Douchey Wallnuts
Most Annoying Rockerbag — CB Popped
Comment of the Year — Wheezer
Quartasians and Trannys — Douchble Helix
Douchiest Hand Gesture — tall guy
The John Largeman — Et Tu Douche?
Douchiest ‘Bag Who May Be a Lesbian In Drag — Wedgie
Most Trashcan to the Head Worthy — Medusa Oblongata
Douchiest Creature From Ancient Greek Myth — Jacques Doucheteau
The Douchebaguette — Mr. Scrotato Head
Most Euro Eurobags — Reverend Chad Kroeger
Smells Like Poo — Creature
‘Celebrity’ HCwDB Couple of the Year — Vin Douchal
Most Annoying ‘Bagling — Nancy Dreusche
The Ricky — Mr. White
Hottest Librarian Hott — The Dude
Greatest Crisis of Modernity — Hermit
Douchiest ‘Athlete’ — Bob McAdouche
Hottest Girl Next Door Hott — Douche Equis
Clearest Proof of Natural Selection — DarkSock
Most Expensive First Date Hott — Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
The Yellowtail (Oldbag) — Mandouchian Candidate
Douchiest ‘Bag Trend — Mr. Scrotato Head
Greasiest Grease Stain — MusicFanatic
Douchiest Hair — dbBen
Douchiest Facial Fung — Douche Springsteen
Be sure to email me your winner(loser), as well as 3-4 runners up, along with your 2-3 paragraph writeup by DEcember 1st, so your lazy-ass narrator can put it all togethers.
Lets do this thing.
