HCwDB
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Monday, March 9, 2009
Tag These 'Bags
With Arafat scarf, British beach tent hat, matching underwear and the Jenny Sisters on either side, I’m having a hard time tagging these two ‘bags.
Pooistinian Liberation Organization?
Underpoos?
Brobro Boxer?
Help me out with your best ‘bag tag in the comments thread.
EDIT: The Winners:
Quadra-wienie-a — Frodouche Baggins (3rd place)
the Gaza Strip tease — Rubbery Gaping Butthole (2nd place)
United Colors of Bagetton — blair (1st place)
Tag These ‘Bags
With Arafat scarf, British beach tent hat, matching underwear and the Jenny Sisters on either side, I’m having a hard time tagging these two ‘bags.
Pooistinian Liberation Organization?
Underpoos?
Brobro Boxer?
Help me out with your best ‘bag tag in the comments thread.
EDIT: The Winners:
Quadra-wienie-a — Frodouche Baggins (3rd place)
the Gaza Strip tease — Rubbery Gaping Butthole (2nd place)
United Colors of Bagetton — blair (1st place)
Vinnie Spike
When not busy mugging a tasty URC holding hott, Vinnie Spike knows who he’s voting for in the Monthly.
Do you?
Monday, March 9, 2009HCwDB of the Month
I’ve made an executive decision.
Poo, as genius as he is, just ain’t a legitimate HCwDB pic. Tanning Bronzer and freakish clownishness, as spectacularly genius as they are, just aren’t the true spirit of ‘bag. Plus, no hott. As such, I’ve bumped his fecal cartoonish presence to a well deserved place in the Hall of Scrote and let last week’s Runner Up, the more than worthy Flame Broiler and Candy Girl, take his place in the Monthly.
If you want more Poo, he’s enshrined. But for the Monthly, here’s your four cuts of hott/scrote:
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #1: The Flame Broiler
F.B.B. and Candy Girl are classic girl-next-door and Orange can of Ass Soda.
And you don’t want to crack a can of Ass Soda. Unless it’s with a stick. To the flame broiled fast food hair.
Sure, she’s a tad too thin, and he’s more KFC than Whopperbag.
But together, they form the unholy dialectics that Jacques Derrida describes as “The WTF principle.”
Also factor in the camo t-shirt, excessive bling and the rare “matching wristdanna” combo, and this couple is all sorts of deserving wrongness.
Not sure what’s up with the 40s of Colt 45, though.
Alls I know is they add the right touch of class to make this a Monthly finalist. And by class, I mean ass. Because they rhyme.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #2: Crimson Ted
As Denzel Washington said in the movie version of “Crimson Ted”: In my humble opinion, in the non-douchular world, the true enemy is fake-tanning itself.
Yes.
Yes it is, Denzel.
Boozy blonde models and a series of Crimson Ted pics make his entry into the pantheon a worthwhile attempt indeed.
The “point.” The black sweater-vest. And his other appearances here, here, here and here.
All lead to a worthy HCwDB smackfest.
And yes, I see all four of your legs, bottle blondes. I would gnaw like chicken bone.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #3: Rusty the Frill Necked Lizard
Rusty is the classic Vegas Specatcle.
The dude who can’t decide what form of punk aesthetic he wants to coopt, so he coopts them all in some hazy mish-mash of signification.
Stupid levitating glasses.
Punchy douche-face.
And the Bleethed out, skinny, Vegas Trampy Hott on his arm.
She is Lotus Flower.
He is Dragonbag.
Together, they make tight pants.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #4: 2009: An Orange Odyssey, aka Orange Jeter and Cynthia
For classic Jerz Scrote and sexy tiny dancer hott, Orange Jeter and Cynthia prove that 2009 is the “Year of the Orange.”
Casually flipping off the camera with hoodie pulled high, O.J. makes me want to kick the crap out of at least two of the Golden Girls.
Because Betty White needs a serious ass kicking.
Cynthia makes me dream of blue birds, sunrises and boobie suckle, in spite of her double hand gesture.
And O.J. needs Martha Dunstock to sit on his head until Big Fun plays the prom.
So them’s your three.
Whether you’re pro-Poo or anti-Poo, you have to admit that these four pics, each in their own unique way, exhibit all the elements of our cultural crisis.
Which one will win? Orange Jeter and the luciously perky Cynthia? Or the Vegas abomination of Rusty and Lotus Flower? Or will the Flame Broiler and Candy Girl, cast into the shadow by Poo, finally gain recognition? Or is this Crimson Ted and the Lounge Hotts time to shine?
That, fellow ‘bag hunters, is up to you.
Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.
Sunday, March 8, 2009Sunday Musings
It’s Sunday afternoon in smoggy Los Angeles. Your humble narrator sips some Trader Joes Blood Orange soda from a URC and turns on the TiVo.
Battlestar has gone stupid. But The Graham Norton Show is his new obsession. The Brits always rule at comedy.
A helicopter circulates over the smog in Los Angeles proper. The city is bored today. Lazy. In molasses-like slo-mo.
Like a John Woo ending without the guns and doves.
Starlet hotts in houses near Larchmont, hung over from last night’s affairs on Hollywood Blvd, kick out spikey haired douchewanks into the blinding sun.
A dog barks. He hates popped collars.
Good for you, Sparky.
Have a biscuit.
Sunday, March 8, 2009Beefy Cow and the Perky Mellons
Ah yes, two lovely squeezey perky suckle thighs, and a beefy slice of festering cow carcass.
Jesus died for your pec, Beefy Cow.
As to sweet, innocent Yellow Blonde Maiden, I would flagellate myself with hairs plucked from rare albino Arabian horses and sing an off-key rendition of the Kinks’ Big Sky, just for the chance to mildly amuse Princess Mufesta enough for her to call her guards to throw me in the same dungeon where Yellow Blonde Maiden once passed through during her sophomore year “study abroad” program when she was at Arizona State.
Saturday, March 7, 2009Stereodouchtonic Twin Saturday
One half of the legendary HCwDB Superheroes and Hall of Scrote enshrinees, The Stereodouchetonic Twins, is making his wonderdouche activate as we speak.
STD #1 is scrotally superior in every aspect.
Only the truly superhuman ‘bag can turn orange, pull off a pink tank-top, and have a fantasically chewably sexy bikini hott drapped across him without distracting his focus on the camera to capture his power in action.
Stereodouchetonic Twin #1 is so powerful, so douche-inspiring, he renders a 10 Degree Hat Tilt Fratchoad practically irrelevant in his wake.
Do not doubt his douchal supremacy. Nor the whiteness of his teeth.
Saturday, March 7, 2009Don't hate the Playah…
…hate this guy.
Bonus points: Find the various Ubiquitous Red Cups and Rare-Ass Blue Cups I’ve hidden somewhere in this pic.
Bonus Points #2: Boobies bounce softly, like wilting winter lillies lying upon a porch step after late August breeze wafts and blows the petals. Like boobies. This makes no sense. Boobies.
Saturday, March 7, 2009Don’t hate the Playah…
…hate this guy.
Bonus points: Find the various Ubiquitous Red Cups and Rare-Ass Blue Cups I’ve hidden somewhere in this pic.
Bonus Points #2: Boobies bounce softly, like wilting winter lillies lying upon a porch step after late August breeze wafts and blows the petals. Like boobies. This makes no sense. Boobies.
Friday, March 6, 2009Friday Bra!! and Links
Bra!! I frosted my tips and got a new tatt, broheim!! And dig the sexy cheerleader I met on the beach!! Too bad she’s with this dude.
Oh well. Best go find another tasty cola beverage.
Here’s your links:
So where does Poo, our HCwDB of the Week winner, rank on the Bristol Stool Scale?
Arthur Kade is concentrated douchewater. Read this thing alll the way through, the comments thread is a work of genius.
Swedos (aka: Swedish Guidos)
The legendary Guido Beach is back online. Check it out before it gets pulled again.
Fake Joba Chamberlain. Ass-clown? Or hero?
Your humble narrator has consumed a tasty microwave lasagna from Trader Joes, and is ready to ride on into Friday’s eve sipping cheap wine, scratching myself in inappropriate places, and watching TiVo’d Flight of the Conchords. All is good with the world in sunny, smoggy, text message clogged Los Angeles.
Except for Poo.
Who haunts me like a phantasmic Jacob Marley.
EDIT: Since the links were a bit too douchecentric, have some Friday Ass Pear. You’ve earned it.
