HCwDB

    Friday, July 25, 2008

    The Small Package Picks Up a Hott


    When HCwDB site favorite (and Weekly winner) The Small Package told his friends he was gonna “pick up a hott tonight,” they didn’t think he meant it literally.

    Your humble narrator, The DB1, is in the midst of getting ready to head to San Francisco for my book signing on Sunday at 4pm at the Virgin Megastore in Union Square.

    Represent, San Franciscians. Or I will run like Donald Sutherland through the streets chasing pod people. And we can’t have that.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, July 25, 2008

    Ch…Ch…Ch…Chia


    At first, the Tai Chia Pet just seems standard issue douche. Other than hilarious language butchering and a sweet little Staten Island cutie, he’s sort of generiscrote.

    But then you see it.

    There it is. ‘Bag Hand Gesture #84. A teeny middle finger curving around Stacy’s shoulder.

    Because true uberscrotes can’t just embrace the hott. True uberscrotes gotta work in the “gangsta” somehow.

    But I would love a tasty bowl of Quaker Oats, Chia, thanks for asking.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, July 25, 2008

    Friday Haiku


    Smoke from douche hole blows,
    Bleethed Hott on the right. On left?
    Deflated balloon.

    Two Neanderthals
    Porn star hott shows off her ink
    Inverse mohawk too?

    — anonymous

    Crabs on bleeth are smart.
    They’ve formed a society,
    Just launched a space ship.

    — mr. white

    Robert Downey Bag
    Blows smoke angrily at hott
    He’s no “Iron Man”

    — anonymous

    Motel 6, poolside.
    Couldn’t afford Rehab pool.
    Second rate douchebags.

    — anonymous

    Old enough to smoke.
    A balloon suddenly pops..
    Strawberry drinks all round.

    — teh abominable snowdouche

    Nip rings pop man-boobs.
    “Flock of Seagulls” fauxhawk sucks.
    Where are the red cups?

    — boatbutter

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 24, 2008

    The Earwig


    He… wants to rock and roll all night. And hydrate properly every day.

    But aw, isn’t that sweet. Slayer volunteered his chin as a foster home for two Wrath of Khan earwigs.

    Yeah, I made a Wrath of Khan earwig reference. And I will again. Try to stop me.

    Earwig.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 24, 2008

    Antoine and the Euro Hotts


    We haven’t had a good Brothabag pic in awhile, and Antoine fits the bill for greasing up the shaved chest and busting the Celtic Bling.

    With no kissy lips or smug pout, Antoine almost got a nottadouche pass. But presenting the grease-chest? Sorry ‘Toine. That’s a stage-2 violation.

    Euro Heiress on the right may be pushing late 30s but she can sip Abysnthe by her winter chalet in Oslo while I massage her footsies with Italian lotions and a dash of Bazooka chewing gum.

    Ambiguous Quartasian on the left is tiny chinned Chaos Theory goodness. As Jeff Goldblum explained in Jurassic Park, every time a butterfly flaps its wings in China, I stare at her boobers.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 24, 2008

    Doggie 'Baggin' on the Island


    The Doggie ‘Bag douche maneuver will be credited by future historians to HCwDB legend and Monthly winner The Trainwreck in 2007.

    Watch the Doggie ‘Baggin move spread here, here, here, here, here, here, and even to Gramps. You go, Gramps.

    In this example, we see a classic Long Island homage to The Trainwreck (complete with kitchen and “oops!” expression). You can look coy all you want, Tonya. But that dude’s wearing a wristdanna. And his face is the color of a twizzler.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 24, 2008

    Boa Arthur


    Is there anything worse than a scrote who thinks he dominates the clubs where the hotts are paid to stand next to him?

    Is this the douche equivalent of winning the Guitar Hero competition at the local frat-house and therefore assuming you have actual musical talent?

    Seriously, Arthur. She is Paid to Pose. Look into those eyes.

    They do not say Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of a man with poor tatts, rings and bad hygene to save me.

    They say: I hope this tool tips me 20 bucks before Tony calls me back to the stage for GnR’s ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’

    Read the signs, Boa Arthur. When they’re playing you for cash, you are not the Boa King.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 24, 2008

    The Accounts Payable 'Bag


    You can always tag the douche from the Accounts Payable department by the minimum yet expressive facial hair. This is due to their minimal prep time on Fridays transforming from office worker accountant drone into club-going wankpoo.

    Flynn works his quiet desk job, 9-5 every week at Dunden Miffler. Then on weekends, he spikes up the fading Fauxhawk and tries his best to get something, anything, out of that facial hair.

    In fact, if you stare long enough at Flynn’s chin scruff, it will gradually reveal itself.

    Red is featuring inflated implants, one of the clearest manifestations of ‘bag infection in a hott, and she probably needs to eat a sandwich, but that’s still a very sweet smile. And by sweet smile, I mean boobies.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, July 23, 2008

    Ask DB1: The Ex

    —-
    DB1,

    I’m submitting to you a picture of a girl I used to date on a regular basis until she started to take trips to Sarasota where she met up with “friends” and took their daddy’s boat into the Gulf of Mexico.

    This is how she met this vinegar scented creature pictured before you.

    Do I go out and ink a tribal tattoo across my chest? Do I buy 3-D goggle douche-specs? Will I attract her then? Maybe I should have built her a boat made of Ubiquitous Red Cups?

    The questions overwhelm me. Guide me to the path of righteousness. Please be quick for I have this irresistible need to buy self-tanner.

    Stranded,
    Tom

    —-

    I dunno, Tom, that tool is only a stage-1 or a stage-2 scrote. A partially inked tatt and 1960s That Girl glasses aren’t really the brand-name culture spectacle of the higher douchal vortex.

    Although boatbags do have a certain annoyance factor that goes beyond the bling. As we all remember in last year’s legendary pic, The ‘Bag Islander. Man, that pic still makes me want to thigh punch a cactus.

    But back to your question. As Ubiquitous Red Cup knows, sometimes we gotta cut bait and let the boobies go. No matter how bouncy they remain in our memory. Turning into a Boatbag will solve nothing, Tom. And then I will have to mock you in digital form on this site.

    Don’t do it. Conquer the ‘Bag Within and let the boobies go, and only then will the hiney return.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, July 23, 2008

    The Douchebaguette


    Many readers have emailed to ask why I don’t focus more on the Douchebaguette, aka “The Bleeth.”

    The interesting thing about female douchedom is that when you do stumble across a pic of a female uberscrote (like here), she’s usually posing with a guy who takes the douche to a level far beyond the gum snapping stage-4 Bleethdom that Carmen Douchelectra has ascended.

    Apparently Douchebaguettes can’t even mate on their own level. They require next-generation douche. Perhaps something to aspire to.

    Which makes sense if you think about it. Grieco-to-Bleeth virus transmission would naturally result in lag-time between choad and subsequent hott descent into toxicity.

    But, on the plus side, at least she took a nip out of his nose.

    # posted by douchebag1
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