HCwDB
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Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Gunter in Rio
Que bella! Rio Hottie is a a tasty drink of water. The tan-lines curve along windy skin rivers of trickling water over rocks. She has poetic boobies of boobage poetry. I would, uhm, grab them.
Hmm. That wasn’t so poetic. Just true.
Gunter is your typical metro-bag urban club going douchewank. Just the right hint of chin-fungus and cactus hair. And by right, I mean wrong.
Yes, there have been others like Gunter. And there will be again. But that doesn’t mean I can’t mock his shaven chest and zombie face. Or the unfair possession of Rio Hottie.
Together, they wear white.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007The 'Bag in the Bar
Every bar has one.
The ‘Bag in the Bar. The dude who stays until close every night. The creepy weird guy who everyone’s friendly with, but not too friendly because you’re not quite sure if he has a job, or even an apartment outside of his well worn spot sipping Bud Light’s and chatting up the weary bartender hottie.
Here’s one of these BitBs caught in action, mugging a doe eyed bar wench straight out of a 19th Century Manchester pub somewhere in Northern England. I’d ask her to serve me a mug of Mead, and then discuss land taxation and the problem of the proles.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007Fish Slaps For Everyone
One of the true legends of HCwDB, the power of “Hall of Scrote” enshrined Fish Slap’s oily charms to pull unbelievable hot chicks remains potent, greasy and completely douchuous.
Just look at the lineup of hott that the douche who deserves a slap in the face from a dead halibut has pulled here, here, and here.
Now we find the ‘Slap featuring the early warning signs of leathery Gator-like Wrath of Khan chest? Is there no end to the scrotal intermingling of ‘bag signifiers among the triumphant uber-douche specimens that pull the hottest of boob-hott?
Here’s to you, Fish Slap. And by here’s to you, I mean a dead mackerel to the face and I’d feel a little better.
Not much. But a little.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007The Pimple
I’m not sure when the wool cap, tilted and pulled low over the ears, became a staple of the douche wardrobe rotation. Usually you see hats like that on weary middle aged Russians climbing up-hill through the snow to fetch the weekly bread shipment from Minsk.
Here we see it on a severed floating pimple-head popping up about three mature but dirrty cuties like a plastic whack-a-mole.
Someone clearasil that wool cap before drunken blonde on the left does something she’ll regret in the morning.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007Facehugger
Watch out, Newt!! Facehugger wants to lay douche-eggs in your stomach!!
Or, to paraphrase Ripley in the landing hanger: Get away from her, you douche!!
Heh.
Yeah.
Obvious. But I went for it.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007The Flip
Of all the many permutations and combinations of Douchebag hat tilt, this may be a first.
The 180 Degree Z-Axis Triple Lindig of ‘Bag Hat Tilt. Impressive, Creepy Toad. Most impressive.
His doughy shaven chest makes Calcutta Nuns rend their garments and convert to Scientology.
She is goofy Long Island Iced Tea with lemon goodness. I’d order her with my steak and popcorn shrimp at the Sizzler.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007The Quitter
I reiterate the following guideline for all douche classification:
Those who purchase shirts with annoying crude statements on them as a means of demonstrating humor and personality, have neither.
Monday, September 24, 2007State School Douchefodder
It’s not so much that the state school douchewanks piss me off. Although they do.
It’s watching them scrote their scrotey wares while being totally and completely clueless to the level of outrageously unbalanced hott that God has seen clear to bless them with through their four C+ years of business school malaise.
You just don’t deserve that, Az State Wank. Not even remotely.
Although Mia Sara Hottie does seem to have one ginormous leg. A Ferrari stealing school skipping Rooney embarrassing thighosity.
But I would still crash Cameron’s car just for the chance to secretly watch her change by the jacuzzi.
Monday, September 24, 2007Stardouche
In an impressive display of hair carving ability, Stardouche has qualified for ‘bag status with neither hand gesture, face gesture, tatt nor giant goiter in the shape of the letters “D” and “B.”
Instead, he’s busting what appears to be either the Bat Signal or a shamrock. Shaved into his head. And unless you’re a rookie linebacker getting hazed on the Cincinatti Bengals, that’s some douchey-ass hair.
Smirking Lip Gloss cutie is all sorts of trouble. And trouble happens to be my middle name.
Okay no. My middle name is Bernie. Stupid Bernie. Why aren’t you Trouble?
Monday, September 24, 2007The White Shadow
Some ‘bags are hard to spot.
Their scrotey wiley charms are hidden. Covert. They must be parsed out using only one’s cunning and a small Malaysian boy as trade.
Other douchewanks hit you over the head with a large polo mallet.
Like 10 Degree White Shadow ‘Bag.
Thwack.
Ouch.
Is White Shadow the legendary Fish Slap? The chin says possibly.
But all I do know is that Bustier Hottie is a tiny bouncing ball on top of the closed captioning sing-along words of my heterosexuality. Words that say boob.
