The Herpster
Somewhere in a land of stupid hatts and coffee houses, the hipster and the douchebag mated to produce… the Herpster.
Part asswipe. Part semi-employed computer programmer.
The Herpster is a hybrid technology in the worst sense of pollutant producing toxins.
With tuxedo crotch, Ed Hardy Tattoo, and ironic distance expression, Henry Herpster bothers delightful Librarian Laura for our retchification.
And so I note the Darwinian development of ‘baggery. And poke Librarian Laura’s upper thigh area with a q-tip while she’s ordering a cosmo.
Viggo Shows Off Chin Web
While Kim coquettishly shows off globular curves of gravity defying suckle thigh religious micturation.
Together, they invoke waffles.
The Moocow Brothers Flex for Amanda and Tonya
Classic inflata-douchebaggery in presence of tasty strawberry flavored hot chicks.
Guy Passerbie is not amused.
Frankie Lunkerhead Squeezes Giggle Gina With Only Pec Flexes
That’s nothing.
Wait’ll you figure out what’s holding up the beer behind Giggle Gina’s head.
Pop Quiz
When framing up a pic of standard creepy HCwDB poolbaggery through the lens of your camera, do you:
A. Snap the pic quickly and head for the Lobster Shack
B. Wonder if Becky might put out behind the poolhouse if you buy her a bucket of Bud Light Lime
C. Decide not to tell the girls about Aging Ron’s recent herpes result
D. Make sure the pink triangular tower in the background is coming directly out of Stephanie’s head
Answer now.
And Why Petey Blue?
Say the title of this post out loud to get it.
Yup. My coffee still hasn’t kicked in.
By I.P. Freely.
Mmm… doughnut.
Because it’s random, confusing, incoherent DB1 post day, and I’m sticking to it.
Mack the Nozzle: Still Nozzling
2009 HCwDB of the Year Finalist and heaping serving of prime-time douchebaggery, Mack the Nozzle, is still out there.
Still with job-killing facial tatts.
Happily, The Mack is no longer posing with the gorgeous and transcendant Francine. Ode to Francine by Vin Douchal sums it up.
Methinks it’s time to induct The Nozzle into our hallowed Hall of Scrote. Clearly one of the most epic runs of douchebaggery in presence of hot chicks we’ve seen in the history of the site. When I get off my ass to do some HTML’n around here, I’ll toss his sorry ass into where it belongs.
Bad Tatts Maru
We’ve seen so many garish douchetatts on shiny, douchey douchebros over the past few months that it’s losing its ability to shock.
Yet in presence of Sultry New Wave Naomi, Bad Tatts Maru, not to be confused with ‘Bag Bats Maru, reminds us, yet again, of just how douchey it is to cover your body with tatts and think it makes you an individual.
Store bought rebellion inscribed upon the skin doesn’t make you interesting, guy. Try speaking. Better yet, don’t.
Mmm…. Naomi. Pure of ivory flesh and taut sucklebottom. I would nibble atop your grandmother’s doilies until the Rugaleh went stale.
Breaking ‘Bag To the Future
It’s like a prom photo from a Bizarro 1950s Enchantment Under the Sea dance in which 40 year old douchebags travel back in time to go to prom with their mother, and then end up cooking meth out of a camper before they die of cancer.
Wait.
I appear to be mashing up my pop culture references in some Brundelfy-esque clash of contradictory signifiers.
Lets start over. His chin dribble looks like melted ant raisins. Mama Mary was once very hott, and the echo remains.
