Breaking: Some Asian Hottie I've never heard of named Brenda Song is Dating Rocker Pudscrape
“Brenda Song” is her name. Douchescrape dating is her game.
Ask DB1: Condoms and Scrotums
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Hey DB1,
I have a dilemma… I am in a new relationship with a great woman who also hates douchebags. So, being the responsible man that I am, I went to my local drug store to pick up some protection for our intimate times.
When I was shopping, I came across this. Apparently ONE Condoms have made a line of condoms called Tantric, modeled after popular tribal tattoo designs.
Is there such thing as a douchey condom? If there is, I think this may be it. Would I be a douche for buying this product?
All the best,
Musicfanatic
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Douchey condoms are plentiful, and can be identified through three central characteristics:
1. The promise of “enhanced” anything (pleasure, size, stamina, etc.). Condoms are for one thing, and one thing only — preventing the XX and the XY from commingling long enough to drain your bank account for the next 25 years while complaining that you’re an emotionally dysfunctional failure.
2. Idiotic naming that refers to anyone from Greek, Roman, Norse, or Native American mythology, with the exceptions of Trojans and Ramses for longevity in service of babylessness.
3. Any scented or colored anything.
All those that fall into these categories are Condombags. The rest are excused.
The Blow Up 'Bag
David Hemmings Face is no excuse for Eurobritbaggery in presence of All-American Cheerleader Angelica, Ian.
Your hair is French New Wave Godardian art cinema fail. It’s Neorealist Avant-gardian douchal echo is a pomo boho sample pack of retroactive asshackery.
So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
With posts as literary as this, it’s hard for me to believe I’m losing the masses to sites like The Dirty and Is Anyone Up.
Mister Asswhifster Likes Asian Girls
Sunglasses at night and powdered rhino penis anti-aging creme scratch but the surface of the lengths Mister Asswhisfter goes to stay fifty.
Next up:A car elevator in his La Jolla summer home.
Aqua Vulva Got Game
Douchelockets and stupidface may attach British Sexy Sophia into your Old Spice orbit, Aqua Vulva, but that don’t make you not a countrydouche poseur shoescrape.
Yeah.
Beat that sentence, Young Sexy Stephen Hawking With Game.
Ever since creepy-eyed Blake Shelton “crossed over” on that show The Voice, a plethora of Countrybags have rained down on smoggy Los Angeles like a pestilent plague of frogs.
Plague Frogs that sing about how they miss their small hometown, but they’ll go back there some day, and the local diner juke box played Patsy Cline, and Jews killed their God, and them Mexicans need to be shot, ‘yall, because that’s how ‘Merica is!
At least, that’s what it sounds like they’re saying when I listen to it.
Seriously. Look at Blake Shelton’s eyes. They’re like some mutant android Doctor Who alien spore taking over the body of Nurse Ratched before producing a plastic Talking Tina to take out Telly Savalas on the stairs.
Or something like that.
Yup, I’m having way too much fun with links on my first day back.
Mogootoo says, "Gloooooo"
Uh oh.
This week isn’t off to a good start.
Although, from a pure douchemock perspective, I suppose it is.
Props to the 'Sock!
And by “sock,” I mean Marty Puffinmuscle’s impromptu and improvisational adherence to prophylactic need.
Aka the social conventions of discovering birth control methodology via article of clothing in Marty’s van down by the river upon convincing an addled Corrie that she should, like, totally make out with him for a few hours, then watch the sunrise.
Your humble narrator is back from meditative and monastic retreat in Uttar Punjab and ready to fire things up again.
Gotta a hamper full of soiled HCwDB pics ready to fire.
I hope all of your Seders and Seder-ripoffs (Easter) were delightful and macaroon filled. Now lets do this thang.
Special Emergency "Caption This" Telethon…
…Because damned if I can put words to this.
Friday Thoughts and Links
Greetings from a hot and muggy storm-ravaged Mississippi, my fellow sports-fans.
Still no sign of the DB1; although some alert readers along the Pacific Rim have noted regional news stories of recent llama-related social disturbances. Perhaps he shall return enlightened and share the bounty of his wisdom, with us all arrayed in wonder at his sandaled feet.
Or he may just resume spewing the stellar B.S. we’ve come to know and love.
Until then…here’s your Friday Thoughts and Links:
How your steering wheel can tell you who’s a douchebag.
This just in… Dolphins not so damned intelligent on land, are they?
Oh, please…let’s just stop this charade, shall we? I know what you came here for…
And…CUT!
