HCwDB
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Monday, June 14, 2010
The Douchebag I Don’t Want to Remember
We’ve run this shaved chest doucheclown, who borders on the gaybag disqualification, on the site before, but the memory is so scarring, I refuse to go back into the archives and determine his name.
Instead I will stare at Sally’s knee-high boots and consider her potential for frisky good girl fun, with a side order of guilt, nervous distraction, and a long conversation about low carb dieting and how her older brother is, like, so annoying.
Monday, June 14, 2010The Douchebag I Don't Want to Remember
We’ve run this shaved chest doucheclown, who borders on the gaybag disqualification, on the site before, but the memory is so scarring, I refuse to go back into the archives and determine his name.
Instead I will stare at Sally’s knee-high boots and consider her potential for frisky good girl fun, with a side order of guilt, nervous distraction, and a long conversation about low carb dieting and how her older brother is, like, so annoying.
Monday, June 14, 2010Fratbro Bob Wins
It’s hard to imagine that a fratbro sporting the Booger from Revenge of the Nerds aesthetic could come so far in life.
Hard to call you a douche, Bob, even though you probably are. Hard to call you sanitary, either.
So a reluctant nottadouche and goinpeace due to lack of evidence to convict, and a recommendation to go for the cat. She looks playful.
Monday, June 14, 2010The Hebro Voted
Las Vegas Talmudic scholar in the Moses Mammsonides tradition, The Hebro, wanted to perform a mitzvah with his feral yet alluringly exotic hot chick, Emma Goldmounds, by voting in the HCwDB of the Week.
Have you voted yet?
EDIT: These may be porn stars, which raises a good question we have yet to discuss here at HCwDB. Do porn stars qualify for Performative Rockstar Leniency Rule (as in, their career requires douchey behavior), or do we evaluate their choady ways on merit?
Sunday, June 13, 2010The Fifth Circle of Hell: Miami Style
Where overpriced t-shirts go to die.
Saturday, June 12, 2010Frong
There’s hair.
There’s fro.
And then there’s Frong.
Friday, June 11, 2010Reader Mail: The Situation
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DB1,
Attached find a pic of “The Situation” from Jersey Shore.
While reading an otherwise enlightening news story, this ass hat with his Hollywood (married?) hott appeared out of nowhere as an advert for the Washington Post. The news has been good from the front, but relying on this idiot to sell papers is enough to make a man start pounding malt liquor at 10 am.
And as much as the situation makes me want to slip into a fortified alcohol funk, I just can’t do it. For the Germans shall surely come storming and the Republic must survive. So DB1, perhaps you’ll post this pic and remind us who the real enemy is while we wait for some Friday pear and I’ll keep the Maginot Line fuccen strong and post some snipers on high alert for any roving Eurobag.
Field Marshal Phillipe Petaint
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Good catch, FMPP. The Jersey Shore douchebags have reached a higher level of awareness than any of our HCwDB legends of scrote, but I would remind all that mocking douchebags on the other MTV show (the show that came first) is far more rewarding.
And by rewarding, I mean helps the DB1 pay for extra bottles of Mogen David quality fortified wine.
Friday, June 11, 2010A Greasy Pork Sandwich Served in a Dirty Ashtray
Except for Monique on the far right. Who wins the ribbon for happy pants. I would slap a sloth just for the chance to salivate on her pork chops.
Thursday, June 10, 2010Marmadouche
Remember ladies, always spay or neuter your ‘bags.
Okay, this wasn’t the cleverest of writing on this late Thursday afternoon, but cut me some slack. His facial chin looks dog-like. And besides, I just ate half a box of Joe-Joes.
Thursday, June 10, 2010Gary Glitter
That reminds me, did I remember to feed the alpacas this morning?
Yup. No idea what I’m saying.
Your humble narrator is just back from Trader Joes, with a hearty supply of low priced cookies, various chocolates, microwavable burritos, and Blood Orange Soda in the fridge, so the sugar high is toxic and impending.
I lie on my stained rug floor, scratch myself in inappropriate places, and consider a world where people spackle glitter on each other.
But a tasty Trader Joe’s oatmeal raisin reassures.
