HCwDB
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Thursday, April 23, 2009
Deep in the Scrote of Texas (Douche Remix)
The Boobs are Bright, The Douche is Slight… (they’ve got the clap!) deep in the scrote… of Texas…
Skinny Ted Buys a Boat: Gets Hott
So have we drawn an inverse correlation between the size of a douche’s boat and the size of his mandana + hair spike?
She is delectable.
The ratio between boat ownership and bikini hotts is a disturbing one, that merits scientific study in greater depth.
By which I mean me, sitting on my rug, scratching myself and eating Cheez-its.
Thursday, April 23, 2009Reader Mail: Sasha Joins the Cause
Sasha Hott writes in:
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First off let me just say that I love your website and you are hilarious!!
I’m a hot chick that abhors douche and avoids them like the plague but am fascinated with watching them interact in the wild. My hairdresser who is also a hottie with a non douche boyfriend told me about your site and I’ve been hooked ever since. It’s been about a month now.
Today while on myspace I noticed how many douche bags are running rampant on other hot girls’ profiles. I had to submit some pics in hopes of seeing them up on the douche bag bashing commentary. Sorry about the wordy message. Next time I’ll have more pics and less words, lol.
xoxo,
– Sasha
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A hot chick who loves mocking the douche and apologizes for talking too much?
Come to my abode, Sasha. I will ply you with tasty Hostess snack cakes and inexpensively priced fortified wine. Like Thunderbird. And Night Train.
We will run naked through the underbrush, then pass out on a hilltop, gasping for air. We will then sip our libations from red plastic cups and sing barrio torch songs under a golden moon until the Northern Lights cast neon tendrils to take us towards dawn. And then I will awkwardly fondle your toes.
Thursday, April 23, 2009Sandbags
Excuse me ladies, but it appears the group of doucheclowns in the back have dropped a Sandbag on your blanket.
Would you like me to clear it off with some Lysol?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009Breaking: Arthur Kade Not Content to Just Douche up Philly, Thinks about New York
Internet D.B.-log pioneer Arthur Kade brings the scrotal infection to a theoretical NYC (without leaving Philly):
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If you are young, hip, and want the “best of the best” in Philly, there isn’t that much to do at night.
My friends and I always joke that there are only three night time lounges that cater to the level of our crowd, and it’s amazing that you run into the same people every night, and that it gets tiresome hugging and catching up about the same stuff with the same people. It also limits the ability to meet new girls, because everyone knows me, and the reputation is that I am a player, and no girl wants to not be taken seriously if she isn’t in my league (I am now having girls come up to me offering to break my drought, although no one has been over an 8). This is the reason I am always heading up to NYC, but yesterday with the weather and crew that was out, Philly actually had an NYC feel.
We started with brunch at Rouge (My favorite brunch spot because it has a very up-scale feel and sophisticated crowd) and took over the front section of the block because the staff knows us and wants us visible to the public. We ate, and hung out from 1PM to 10PM, and had an amazing time. Everyone was in great spirits; I had several girls walk by and recognize me, with one tell me “I love your website, don’t listen to the haters, they are all jealous”. We talked for a minute and I could tell they wanted more from me, but I wasn’t interested.
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Don’t listen to the “haters,” A.K. You are a douchal innovator, and like Typhoid, are to be studied in a jar and pressed behind glass under a microscope. By which I mean mocked repeatedly on the internet until you go away.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009Where's Waldouche?: Ass Pear Edition
Somewhere in this lineup of perfectly formed, A-List top shelf Ass Pear, I’ve carefully hidden a retro 1970s speedo wearing pornbag.
This challenge is particularly difficult, given the quality of Pear. Only the most experienced ‘bag hunters, after they’re done appreciating the Pear, can locate this tool.
Look closely.
Can you find the Waldouche?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009Where’s Waldouche?: Ass Pear Edition
Somewhere in this lineup of perfectly formed, A-List top shelf Ass Pear, I’ve carefully hidden a retro 1970s speedo wearing pornbag.
This challenge is particularly difficult, given the quality of Pear. Only the most experienced ‘bag hunters, after they’re done appreciating the Pear, can locate this tool.
Look closely.
Can you find the Waldouche?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009Tampa Michael Bay
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DB1,
As a native Tampanian, or Tampon, It has lamentably come to my attention that Tampa is becoming, or has become, a douche hot spot as you can see from the very recent picture we took over the weekend.
I have been a follower and fan of your website for some time and I have noticed that Tampa and Vegas seems to get quite a bit of attention. The optimistic side of me wants to think that Tampa and Vegas simply has a more attentive and douche-sensitive population and more cameras perhaps than other cities, but the forces of reality are making me realize that Tampa could in fact just be a haven.
I have no explanation and I can provide no logical reasoning. I was hoping you, with your seemingly peerless douche knowledge, could provide some insight and perhaps recommend a way to reclaim our city.
-Cognize Tampanian
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C.T., I can only offer you my detailed and comprehensively developed Tampa Michael Bay Theory, or what I call the T.M.B.T. It goes like this:
Tampa Bay is like Michael Bay.
Both are loud, pointless and go to strip bars.
Q.E.D.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009Crappy Gilmore
If Adam Sandler mated with a bottle of linseed oil, we’d have the shirtbag pictured here.
Poor Juanita.
All she wanted to do was to make new friends at the San Diego State Freshman Mixer. Little did she know she’d be fending off the semi-employed Crappy G, who was just “in the neighborhood” and decided to “drop in.”
Wednesday, April 22, 2009The Provisional Nottadouche
This guy is likely a douche. Sadly, though, there’s not enough visual evidence to convict. A silly face and a slight semi-ass-grab is not enough, and by law, I must issue a provisional nottadouche (until more evidence surfaces).
So why run this pic?
Because Bottle Blonde’s coquettish giggle and sly, shy grin task me to glue sparkles and uncooked macaroni to her upper thigh until I can form a complete mosaic of the Sistine Chapel. At which point I would nibble each macaroni off her thigh, while reciting Dante’s Paradiso in its original Italian. And then I would Marcello her Mastroiannis.
