Nick the Richard Approves of the HCwDB of the Week
But not as much as the rare “Subtle Boob Fondle Of Milfy Suburban Moms Out For a Night of Drinking While Taking a Pic To Get Back at Karen’s Husband” move.
A move, I should add, that was first patented by Salvador Dali while seeking cure for lupus in the natural hot springs of Bilbao, Spain, in the late 1930s.
HCwDB of the Week: Tony the Curdle and Butt Pooch Adriana
From last Tuesday, this pile of rampant rhesus poo fling is all that is Olsen on a Monday.
Or, as W.H. Auden once asked a servant class school boy on a cloudy day in Birmingham in the 1950s, is there anything more annoying than douchelips on a puddlewhack?
Your humble narrator’s incoherence is a clue to deeper meaning.
And by deeper meaning, I mean penguin slap as a euphemism for third world debt crisis.
Wait,… My Random Tom Waits Lyric Generator was accidentally turned on. Sorry about that.
Last week saw Bleeth and Oldbag, Lobes and Greek Crotch Dance, Bathroom Douche Pics and White Trash Cuddle.
But none were billy goat slap quite like Tony the Curdle, or as tasty as Butt Pooch Adriana.
Chalk ’em for what’s shaping up to be a strong first Monthly in 2012, and your humble and confused author for Raisin Bran.
Gold'Crust'n
And you thought hiphop douchery was dead in 2012.
Think again. Assclowns with ‘tude (and mommy’s credit card) are still self-producing “videos” about livin’ large and poppin’ bottles with bitchez, hopin’ to live da dreamz, yo.
And they are to continue to be mocked for narcissistic asspreenery until they go the way of the Dodo and the Federline.
Comment of the Week: Mr. Scrotato Head
From Kim’s Tag of a Rocker Horns Douche comes our first Comment of the Week of the New Year:
————
Somewhere in Hoboken that’s an 18-month old standing up in a crib that was recalled several years ago, staring down at the half-empty bottle of curdling milk lying on the floor. He doesn’t cry anymore because the One with the soft voice never responds and the One with the hard voice makes it hurt when he does. So he stands there, the weight of his sodden diaper pulling it down nearly to his knees, sniffing back tears, knowing that at some point the One with the soft voice will eventually stumble in, start crying herself, pick up the putrid bottle, and put it in his mouth before staggering of to have a shouting match with the One with the hard voice.
.
Episode One, Season Two, “The Real Chicks-who-were-hot-in-high-school-and-thought-their-looks-would-earn-them-a-cushy-life-with-a-hot-guy-but-who-now-have-to-strip-to-pay-the-rent-and-feed-their-bastard-children of Hoboken”
———-
Friday Thoughts and Links
Feeling relaxed in the New Year?
Just remember. White Trash Uberwipes are dating your ex-girlfriend.
With giant f-ing lobes. Seriously. WTF with the lobes?
On to the rest.
Nice to see the site fire back up in the New Year, and props to all bringing continuing A-Game to the threads. The mock must continue. Oh yes. It must continue.
Your humble narrator is still hard at work peddling his wares in the dark streets of Hollywood. The whoreness is overwhelming.
But there are always In-n-Out burgers to guide the way. Those are some good burgers, Dude.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “No. I want that feeling. The feeling that comes over a man when he gets exactly what he desires. I need that feeling!”
File under “those crazy kids”: Vodka Tampons. For when drinking orally is just so 2011.
Raiders of the Lost Ark: Geekgasm Edition
The future ex-Mrs.DB1 continues to grow into pure Semitic Librarian Suckle Woo.
The coolest dogs know how to groove to acoustic guitar.
If I were you, I definitely would not click on a link that’s called Greek Banana Horse Crotch.
The Jersey Shore continues epic cash-generating douchebag merchandising. The DB1 is not paid residuals.
Ladies, if you ever want to make your man happy, dress as Judy Jetson. Judy Jetson was hot. But Jane was milfy.
But you are not only here for milfy Jane Jetson. You are also here for pear:
Pear that sends soldiers into war on the dreams of a whiff of hiney wipe.
No More Backwards Baseball Cap Toolscrape
Megan writes in:
—–
My boyfriend and I are in a picture and I’d like it removed. We are both upset about it and someone put his full name out on it. It was funny reading all the comments until some gilr to it to the next level. ANy way you vould just remove it ASAP thanks
—–
Steven Tyler hates it when gilr’s take it to the next level.
Friday Haiku
Hey guys! It’s Rave Night
In the basement over at
They Live! Musical
National Tour Company
Where’s Roddy Piper?
— SonnyChibaChoad
Rubber Johnny has
Cult following. These are the
Children Of The Porn
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Post Apocalypse
No more credit card bill, bro!
The Walking Deadbeats
— Mr. Scrotato Head
All eyes are ablaze
Why are the chicks bent over?
Burning pickle-slits.
— hermit
Undead shoplifters
Celebrate victory at
Salvation army
— Dude McCrudeshoes
They all looked into
The Ark Of The Covenant
when Indy said “don’t”
— Medusa Oblongata
All your hair products
They are belonging to us
Douche and bleeth zombies
— Hong Kong Douchey
Too much irony
here to make sense. Douche zombies
have no need for brains.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
Guess This Dribbler
Yes, this garish atrocity of sportspukery is a professional athlete of some sort.
Give up?
Mr. Tibbs Shows His Nieces Adriana and Bonnie His Fine Corinthian Leather
Mr. Tibbs, like the 1975 Chrysler Cordoba, has seen a lot of miles over the past 36 years.
But until the tread falls off, Mr. Tibbs will keep on truckin’.
The Bleeth
For those unclear on the concept of what happens when a woman becomes a trashed out garish douchebaguette Bleeth, here’s proof positive.
EDIT: There’s only one cure for having viewed this atrocity, and it is Alba Pear.
