HCwDB
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Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Choose Your Own Adventure: The Glowbag
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You enter the living room, where you find a cracked out Glowbag arm-hooking a dark haired Indian Hott from Uttar Pradesh.
If you want to…
Spin around and run screaming from this suburban nightmare, turn to page 39.
Grab Glowbag’s glowsticks and beat him about the head and neck until his collar is un-popped, turn to page 132.
Sucker punch Glowbag in the stomach and take Sanjna out for curry, turn to page 84.
Monday, January 5, 2009Fried Dough Makes Good
Strips of Fried Dough at county fairs and San Genarro festivals the world over envy this cut of Fried Dough, the luckiest Fried Dough of all the Fried Doughs to ever escape Fried Dough status and hit the beach to mack on the Jenny Twins.
Ghoulbaggery
Ghoulbaggery, not to be confused with standard douchebaggery, is the product of Emobag and Gothbag cross-pollination by way of post-2005 “Affliction” name-brandification.
Ghoulbags haunt clubs with the “I’m above this place” ‘tude and the ethos of 80s heroin chic by way of $60 distressed t-shirts, on sale at Macy’s.
They are ultimate poseur fraud choadwanks.
And yet the hotts in sundresses giggle at their toughness and angry displays of “alternative” manhood.
As such, they are simply another form of thematic douche, warmed over and reheated under cover of night, and should be laughed at, and have their chain-wallets confiscated by a big burly black guy who isn’t fooled.
Monday, January 5, 2009Nordic Viking Says "Ja!"
Nordic Viking says “Ja!”
But you did not ask Nordic Viking a question.
Nordic Viking just likes to say “Ja!”
Monday, January 5, 2009Nordic Viking Says “Ja!”
Nordic Viking says “Ja!”
But you did not ask Nordic Viking a question.
Nordic Viking just likes to say “Ja!”
Monday, January 5, 2009HCwDB of the Week
Welcome back, fellow ‘bag hunters and huntresses.
It’s a shiny, polished New Year. Gone are last year’s bodysprays. In are a new crop of Brody Jennerisms to be mocked and ridiculed, while lusting after their hotts.
Your humble narrator, still recovering from his drunken crawl through lower New York, is freshly shaved and ready to go. I’ve sprayed on my Man Junk, dusted off my copy of “Truly Tasteless Jokes Vol. 7” for a new round of verbal mock, and lightly powdered my outer thighs with confectioner’s sugar and maraschino cherry. It’s time.
Here’s your first Weekly of 2009:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Tiny Anabelle Gets Swamped
With over a month of pics to choose from, there were many choices to cull down to a final three. But Tiny Anabelle was a no-doubt selection.
Getting circled by the cast of Sublime: The Musical was too awkward not to run.
The fact that the toolshed in the back is directing airplane traffic while Brillo Head on the right awkwardly hovers, all leads us to the Pterodactyl Douche up front.
Note classic “Shocker” hand gesture, dribbley chin pubes and a gut that looks like the alien from Meatballs 2.
And did I mention that Tiny Anabelle makes shellfish dance “under the sea”?
And by sea, I mean Antwerp. And by under, I mean bobby socks.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Loop de Poop
Rumors that this greasy crap-stain licking up on this Paid-to-Pose (PTP) brunette milkshake is an 80s hair-metal icon do not detract from the utter wrongness of the commingle.
Now it is true that the potential “PTP” status of the hott detracts from the gut-wrenching existential crisis that a true HCwDB pic should inspire in all who view it.
But we cannot be sure.
And where there is ambiguity, there is hypothetical projection.
And by projection, I mean stupid-ass stripey tiny scarves on middle-aged diaper poops.
And her suckle thighs are firm, yet soft, yet firm, yet soft.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Sir Sucks-a-Lot
Straddling the awkward line between sleazy Vegas promoter and Ducky in Pretty In Pink, Sir Sucks-a-Lot brings a ‘hawk and plenty of ‘tude, along with his Taylor Dane cutie, to the Weekly.
Not classic popped collar, go-to middle finger “tough guy” gesture, chin pubes, and douche-face.
Taylor Dayne is all sorts of drrty sexy, the kind who laughs at your jokes and is willing to make out at the bar even though people are getting annoyed.
She is delightful. And a hint of stomach area makes bluebirds sing “Zipp-a-dee-hoo-ha.”
But I digress.
Which of these three coupling of hottie/douchey wrongness is wrong enough to win the first Weekly of 2009?
That, my friends, is up to you. Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.
Sunday, January 4, 2009The Sunday Finger
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It’s a quiet sunday as I finish up my relaxing time lusting after the New York Boobie Suckle Thighs and mocking the Jerz Bridge-and-Tunnel ass puddles.
Lots of pics in the hamper as we gear up for full-speed-ahead tomorrow.
In the interim, here’s a classic Club Barf whose ‘tude amplifies his secondary-level adouchrements. Sure he’s got the wristdanna, and some faux. But squashing purple dress while flipping off the camera? That’s what elevates the choad to true mock-worthy status.
He is a sweat stain washed off the ballsack off Mutant Chet at the end of Weird Science. And yes, I’m still thinking about 80s Kelly LeBrock from New Years.
Sunday, January 4, 2009Balloons
It’s like the Macy’s Day Thanksgiving Parade of Hottie/Douchosity.
Broheims!! It's Saturday, Bra!!
Broheims!! It’s Saturday, Bra!!
