It's on the menu at the Carnegie Deli, right between the "Jerry Lewis" and the "Joan Rivers."

One slice of prime suckle thigh wedged between two inflated loaves of pumpernickel taintloaf. Add lots of oil, salt and lack of job prospects, and serve on a pair of sweaty, low hanging douche-shorts.

Not sure how well the sandwich is selling, but it's still better than the "Carrot Top."

----
Hey man huge fan of the website. I'm a junior at Washington State University and we wanted to have a party to not only tribute the website but to make fun of the scrotbags known as frat guys. So we had a party appropriately titled "Frat Happens."

Hope you enjoy. Keep up the good work.

- Hardy Boy
----

I can't tell if I'm honored or appalled. I do like the Heidi look on Jillybeans, though.

HCwDB collegiate pest, Nub, wanted to stop by dressed as a caveman plutonium specialist and bring his slightly embarrassed sorority hott, and vote in the HCwDB of the Week.

Who'd you vote for, Nub?

It's kinda hard to tell with your gloved hand gesture, but it looks like you voted for "proctology exam." That wasn't one of the four. Well, maybe it was the Eurobag.

Like a tasty chocolate truffle covered with moldy ass taint, our four couples each bring a unique angle to the HCwDB experience. But which will rise to the top/bottom?

Which will earn a slot in the HCwDB of the Year?

That, friends, is up to you. Your nominees:

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #1: The Eurobag and Monique

Creepy eyes. Angora sweater. Shaved chest. Bedazzled jeans.

Toulouse Lautrec just encouraged Man Ray to tack his ballsack to an art museum wall and call it art.

Monique is giggly and freshly scrubbed and comes to Los Angeles to see Dodger Stadium.

Because why else come to America but to see Dodger Stadium?

Together, this coupling is real world poopyhead.

Therefore we must mock. It is our global civic duty. To help our European bretheren, as we did in WWII.

Note to the ladies: The black lacy bra-strap poking out of a wide necked t-shirt? Yes please.

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #2: Scrote Baio and Ophelia

Charles in charge... of looking like ass... and like poo...

Not since Heather Locklear's boobs popped out in Zapped! has Scrote Baio achieved tosser-like status.

Joker hat, mandana. Man Ray just tacked his head to a wall and called it "poo."

In the jokes industry, that's what they call a "callback." Because I'm down with the lingo.

Back to Baio, Baio's got the garish tatts, the designer basketball jersey, and the head too large for his body.

Sweet, innocent Ophelia. Like Monique, this is the second purity hott in the contest, adding an extra toxic level to the commingling with toad. Sure they probably won't win, but lets not overlook their worthiness to be here.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Schmuckhead and Claudina Ass Pear

Schmuckhead brings two very potent angles to the game.

1. Chin dribble and 'tude.

2. Tremendously impressive and rage worthy fondling of female Ass Pear.

Observe the Schmuckhead/AssPear run as seen in pic #2, pic#3 and pic#4.

Sure the ladies are trampy hotts. In annoying Ed Hardy-esque dresses and making puckers and kissy lips.

But curvy badonka-ass cannot be denied it's impressive talents. And Schmuckhead's club haunting foolifery deserves its rightful place in societal mock.

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #4: Smoot and Crystal

The run of pics bespeak a hottie/douchey legend, as seen in pic #2, pic #3 , pic #4, pic #5, pic #6. and pic #7.

But has Smoot's attitude faded with time? Or is he going to crush the competition and take his place in the 2009 Douchie Award's coveted HCwDB of the Year category?

What of Crystal's attitudinal hottness? Not as innocent as some of the others in competition.

But sweet and curvy nonetheless.

Worth saving from Smoot's pumped up charms.

So which of these four Weekly winners earns your vote? Step up. Don't be shy. Plunk down your hypothetical dollar and take your shot at the cans.

As always, in the comments thread.

WHOOOAAA!!!

Jerz Guids are funny.

(Warning: No hotts for counterbalance, but too funny not to post.)

DJ AM, aka Adam Goldstein, died last night at the age of 36 of an apparent drug overdose.

Don't know much about DJ AM, other than the fact he was engaged to Nicole Ritchie at one point, and he also dated the ubiquitous Mandy Moore, who would bang a pogo stick if it meant a guest starring on primetime.

While I considered DJ AM part of that wave of "Celeb" DJ douchebaggery that swamped the gene pool about five to six years ago, his style wasn't nearly as garish and annoying as some of the others, and he had a pretty good sense of humor about the whole celeb thing.

The guy went through some pretty traumatic stuff. Death earns at least a temporary Nottadouche during the mourning period.

RIP DJ AM. Hopefully you'll be spinning in your grave.

Wait. That didn't sound right.

Schmuckhead and his curvy Ass Pear girlfriend, Claudina, are gearing up for Monday's HCwDB of the Month.

Damn. Way too much exploding human form for a Saturday. I need a coffee.

In honor of Brothabag Mason, a submitter sent me this pic of a genetic Brundlefly cross splicing of Eagle Eye Cherry, El Debarge and Mr. T.

Submitter suggested we name him "Mr. D." I'm on board with that.

Nice to see the Brothabags representing this week with a strong comeback on the site. It's important to remember how varied and complex the Grieco virus actually is. Douchewankery cuts across all cultural, ethnic and regional lines to form global poo.

I have little else to offer in the ways of personal wisdom on this smoggy Los Angeles Friday. I will celebrate my Friday with cheap wine, sugary food product, and continuing cultural wiseass commentary from a safe distance.

Here's your links:

Tracy Leans to use Facebook. The hard way.

The Miami Heat's Michael Beasley is poised to challenge Denver's Chris Andersen for 2009/2010 Doucheballer of the Year.

Someone named Ryan Cabrera is theoretically a celebrity, although I have no idea who he is. What's not in dispute is that he's a douche.

KFC introduces the "double down" sandwich. The bun is made out of fried chicken. I must have this. I will slather it upon the back of Mila Kunis, and then nibble it softly.

Ah, nice to see my issue of Collared Douche Magazine just arrived. Nice! An interview with director Michael Bag!

Ed Hardy snow gear. Fellow 'bag hunters, we're losing the war. We must mock harder.

GQ offers up America's 25 douchiest colleges. While they're unclear on the finer points of scrotal discourse, I still give credit for the effort.

The NFL targets the lucrative football fan douchebag market.

And finally, to honor the start of football season, here's a tasty little Footballette Ass Pear. Hike.

Fe Fi Fo Fum...

I smell the pud of a Vegas scrum...

Just your average all suburban stage-1 HCwDB.

Standard issue Long Island Choad rubbing up on a standard issue Long Island Bounce Girl.

They'll get married and have standard issue annoying kids that they'll cart around in CostCo while buying standard issue food. Wow. This narrative is depressing me.

Nothing overwhelmingly douchey.

Well, maybe that chinstrap.

Gangsta Marilyn,
Hollywood nightmare for Cindy,
Should've stayed in Maine.

The Seven Year Itch
is what this bleeth will contract.
Crab infested faux

-- the douche is alright

Rebellious punks
Wearing their designer clothes
Then listen to Pink.

-- Crucial Head

"I boned JFK,
and I all I got was trapped on
some douchebag's T-shirt."

-- Mr. White

Birthmark on temple
Target for the poison arrow
Slumps to ground in pile

-- Douche Wayne

Jude Law photographed
Researching role as Glenn Plake.
Palm tree, please fall down.

-- boatbutter

The Rooster chief douche.
Squawks at Ginger Spice hottie
Hides shame behind shades

-- Vacuum Cleaner Bagg

Monroe wife beater
screams classy next to bleach bleeth
his mole burns my soul

-- Roscoe P. Scrotestain

Because maintaining the Fauxhawk Spike is hard work.

Sometimes ya just gotta kick back with the cocktail waitress who works the midnight to eight AM shift on a Tuesday.

This may or may not be Brothabag Mason, but I've already started drinking, so I'm calling him Chason until the regs weigh in.

Okay, I can tell that this stage-1 'bags in presence of hott experiment has failed to inspire the creative wordsmithing from the regulars.

So here's Punchy McGee.

If this clown don't fire up your synapses, thereby channeling cultural dissatisfaction into creative productivity, then I'll spank a lemur with a lemon wedge.

And by spank a lemur with a lemon wedge, I do not mean a euphemism for masturbation. I mean a euphemism for blumpkins.

Flonzie isn't doing anything too offensive in presence of sultry brunettes.

But do not be fooled. Flonzie is "Average Choad." Stage 1 maybe, but Average Choad nonetheless.

Pouty Tammy on the right, oh how I would lightly but with great emotion powder your bare bottom. With bosco sauce and epsom salts. And a dash of baking soda.

I would powder each cheek whilst in deep repose and pensive thought. I would meditate on the subjective limitations of the mortal coil and the crisis of modernity as I powder lightly but with persistent firmness.

And I would not forget your BFF, Patrice. She, too, would receive butt powdering. For I am egalitarian like that.

Freddiy's a perfect example of the stage-1 Hustlerdouche. Bordering on stage-2 offenses, but with no hand gestures, and no garish tatts/bling, Freddie's still safely in the 1 zone.

You go with your unvarnished wood paneled studly self, Freddie H.

Suzanna's working the double shift, and her tired eyes betray a world weariness, that, if you ply her with enough drinks Freddie, you might have a story to tell the bros.

Then again, probably not.

Maybe it was the microwaved pizza bagels I had last night before I went to bed last night. But I decided that today we're going to feature some examples of minimal douches.

The stage-1 'bags.

The not-quite nottadouche douchebags, but not quite uberscrote scrotewanks neither.

That vague middle ground of average schlord.

Like David here. He's not doing anything really douchey. Yet you know he's not nottadouche. Thus, stage-1. Like the "low" setting on the microwave. Or the "beginner" level on Halo 3.

As such, the hotts will also be purer. Cleaner. Fresher. Less exposure to the Grieco Virus means less descent into douchebaguette.

Like the perfect smile on Carlita here. She makes dachshund puppies whine for the mother they never knew.

Brothabag Mason says "Yo, faux-peak ain't just for white dudes! And neither is ass pear!"

Maybe so, Brothabag Mason.

However, your douche-hair is making an important contribution to the canon. Therefore we need a name for it.

I dub thy hair Fro Faux.

EDIT: Other names in the comments thread:

Wheezer: 'Fraux

scrotum pole: bro-hawk

Massengill: Blackhawk Up

Seriously, this is the saddest birthday party ever.

One purple balloon.

One pink neckerchief'd potential gaybag.

Two delightful homegrown all-American tasty samplings of lapjoy in the foreground. One long necked lickable swan in the background.

Yup. I got nothin.

Where's Western legend Tom Mix to teach these boys a thing or two about manners.

In a bizarre event predicted in both South American Astrology texts of the 19th Century as well as ancient Kaballah texts found in a cave in Ozark, New Jersey, this commingling of Rockerchoad, overtanned Jerz Bleeth and Bouncer Guy marks the coming of the "Poop Days."

What say you? Is there anything redeemable in this pic?

Is the Douchebaguette saveable?

Should we give Bouncer Guy a pass?

What's that? HCwDB of the Week winner Schmuckhead is coming into the ring!! And he looks pissed, Bob. Lets see if we can get a quick interview.

(handing mic to Schmuckhead)

Schmuckhead: I'se brinin' my a-game to take down that Eurofag on Monday!!

Schmuckhead, what do you say to your critics that think you're probably going to get trounced by Smoot?

Schmuckhead: I challenge anyone out there who thinks that to say it to my abs!!

Okay Schmuckhead, tell us then. Why do you think you'll win on Monday?

Schmuckhead: I gots the hotts, bro!! Check my tri-hott ass pear in my first pic. And now, look at this pear right here, licking my abs. I'm a huge freakin' douche, bro!! Even I hate me!!

That's a complex split within your psyche there, Schmuckhead.

Schmuckhead: I have deep fissures in my identity constructs. I blame the external stimulii of a fragmented life.

Monday. The HCwDB of the Month.

In the last Weekly before Monday's HCwDB of the Month, The classic 'bag iconography of Eurobag and Monique were a runaway winner (loser). The voters speak:

I R A Dearth Aggie: Eurobag FTW. Best combination of sweet hott and trashy bag. And he fits the definition of eurobag to a T.

One for the Choad: Eurobag FTW, no question. He might have perfectly coiffed hair, but I can smell him and that douchey sweater through my laptop. And ten bucks says he wears colored contacts.

Only Women Bleeth: Euroscrote FTW!!!! Bedazzled jeans, pooey hair, and WTF is up with that cardigan????

Maxim Kovalenko: It's gotta be Euro. God, it's like he superglued sparkly D&D dice to his legs.

Baron Von Douchemann: Eurobag. There is a special place in hell for the Eurobags. It's called the Seizieme.

Mr. White: In honor of my upcoming trip to the UK, I vote Eurobag. While there, I will find this choad, kick him in the nads, and then chant, "USA! USA! USA!" over his prone body. Then I will gently stroke Monique's shiny pants.

denno: Euro-poo will leave this girl with memories of what could have been, that will haunt her well into her menopause years. She is stricken with a blindness that portrays this oily f&cksack as some kind of unique pseudo Bohemian character when in truth he is an arrogant grease ball wearing Cindy Lauper's old jeans

Mike: Eurobag's got the sense of entitlement down, the bored, disinterested way he drapes himself over Monique suggests that this buttlump is the son of some Greek shipping magnate and if it wasn't for daddy's money he'd be at the Romanian version of a Motel 6 humping the pool inlets.

Merle Baggard: Make mine a Eurobag. Orange, chesthairless, and alarmingly beautiful eyes. Plus six of nine make me happy, and by happy, I mean turgid, especially thinking of her being paddled in the basement of a Chicago sex club while her congressman ex-husband watches and quietly masterbates .

eltango: mon crayon est long et jaune...and eurobag's is but a nub. monique looks like she'd froth your man milk and top her cappuccino with it. BEDAZZLER FTW!!!

maddywoo: I vote Eurobag. If you glace at the picture, he kinda looks like her was photoshopped in. Poor girl, she can do so much better

Scrotum Pole: Monique, with her genuine smile, natural blond sweetness, and non-faux ta-ta's, deserves far better. One look into the cold, blue, metrosexual eyes of Eurobag makes me want to find the seven alpacas it took to make his sweater, bludgeon them, and feed their still-kicking carcasses into an industrial wood-chipper. Euro FTW

Gold stars all around to this week's 'bag hunters and huntresses. This was one of the most near-unanimous votes in HCwDB history. In very distant second, was Rufus Veinwright:

Wherami: Well I see that Eurobag is doing quite well but seriously people did you not notice the Wristband of Power on Rufus? I had a hard time even thinking that the others were douchy compared to him. Also he had the prerequisite drink in hand albeit its not a red cup and he also definitely had the hottest HOTT this week. I think everyone is just hating on the Freedom Fries and not giving this a true judgement.

Hong Kong Douchey: I'm going against the grain and voting Rufus. We have to take care of the scrotes on our home shores before we start voting for furriner, cheese-eating, surrender monkeys like Eurobag.

While it's true that we must first look inward at our own scrote/hott problems, the Eurobag was just too prime category to deny. And poor Tarzana, who would've won in a walk if only he'd made the "Kissy Lips:"

Double O Douche: Tarzana FTW bad tatts niple rings and a F'n loincloth looks like a gay print ad for Fruit of the loom

The Blessed Scrotini: I vote for Tarzana. Even though the douchery that he exhibits isn't as off the charts as Eurobag I feel it more easily promotes yin-yang of douche-hott comingling that one can see in the wild. Or in your friend's apartment.

Good points, TBS. But this was an overwhelming victory (loss) of douche and hott. Lets let Wheezer take us home:

Eurobag FTW. He bought the poo blue contacts after he got tired of being called "David Schwimmer".....despite crafting his hair in the "Ross" manner. Plus he's wearing blonde pleather hott's spare clothes.....which just happen to fit him like a glove.

But Smoot will still smash him in the Monthly.

Eurobag and Monique earn the last slot in the Monthly, and yes, they will get crushed by Smoot. Another excellent week of comments, props to all who voted.

Your unshaven narrator, The DB1, will now get a coffee and scratch himself.

Add up the cultural signifiers in this swirling cocktail blend of garish monstrosity and you'll get a headache from the cognitive strain.

Thus, my advice is do not try to narrativize the backstory of this porcine poo and porcelain plastic princess.

Do not attempt to explain the Hardy images, Hammer-time hat, and rouge-stains.

Instead take two cyanide laced Tylenol caplets. And, if you make it, call me in the morning.

You know that weird sensation when you've eaten too many HoHos, and just got done watching a marathon of Sanford n' Son on TV Land so you're lightheaded from the antics of Redd Foxx, and you sit up too fast, and your head spins?

So you reach over to steady yourself by grabbing on to your mid century oak side table, the one with the collectors item Doctor Who Zygon you purchased at Comicon two years ago after meeting the late, great Stan Winston?

But because you're dizzy, you miss the table entirely, and slip on your vintage old-school Colecovision you hooked up to your TV to impress last night's hott by showing her your prowess at playing Mr. Do's Castle?

And you stumble backwards, landing on your stained rug butt first, hitting it so hard, you let out a tiny air-bubble shart?

That's this guy.

Air-Bubble Shart.

With matching belt buckle.

Look away.

Look away.

Look away.

That shit is so Cash Warren.

Not sure if Suvari actually falls into the Hollyhott category. But she was in American Pie.

And she had rose pedals in that mediocrity of a sitcom of an Academy Award winning thing about floating plastic bags.

Speaking of floating plastic bags, I wonder what Shannon Elizabeth's up to.

Some days we come face to face with douchescrotery so varied, it's impossible to peg to a single category.

With army cap at 165 degree tilt, giant headdana, gangsta bling and emo eyeliner, there's about four different 'bag categories at work here.

This stage-4 Douchepocalypse means not even light itself can escape unaltered. Lisette didn't stand a chance, she is too far gone to save. Within moments she'll be making either "The Westside" or "The Sideways Peace."

Adam writes in from China:

----
DB1-

I couldn't help but snap a photo of these two douchebags while I was in Xiamen, China this last week. The females are gorgeous (they were girlfriends of the club's owners), and superscrote on the right is actually wearing a pink Gucci belt to complete the douchebaggery.

Seeing as this was outside the club and I couldn't handle the Faux-hawk on the left any longer, I checked to see what these guys were drinking when they were, sadly, allowed into the club. As you might guess, Heineken was the drink of choice.

Hope you can have some fun with this one!
-Adam
----

We need to take Heineken back from the douchescrote. It's a relatively decent beer that does not deserve this fate.

Surely there are some bad-ass Asian gangsters who can take these puds out. I've seen enough Tsui Hark and John Woo to know that this night's going to end badly for the Gwai Lo.

With soft focus, slow motion, exploding squibs, Christ imagery and lots of doves.

Skizzle says, The Ladiez love the golden faux!

You know what stage-4 Douche and Douchebaguette cohabitating means.

Time to crack open a tasty bottle of MD 20/20, pour half over ice, and sip until evening while snacking on tasty Hostess Chocodiles.

The late Ryan Jenkins and Jasmine Fiore, the former a reality TV something and recent murderer/suicider, and the latter a victim of hottie/douchey tragedy,can't actually stop by and vote in the HCwDB of the Week contest.

But they're in the news, and your hungover narrator likes to remain topical with his pop culture and news references, especially when they speak to HCwDB disaster.

Yeah, this post is kinda bringing me down. Because we should never make fun of murder tragedies. That's where we as a society draw the line.

Unless you're Jay Leno and it's OJ Simpson/Nicole Brown Simpson. Then it's hilarious. And produces fifteen years of material.

Crown Chest Guy stopped by to vote in the HCwDB of the Week Contest.

He brought a triumverate of tasty Milfy mom-hotts.

And his douche-bro, Kenny, in the background. Kenny clearly needs Gulliver's Lilliputians to hike up his pants and set his scrotundae on fire.

A new week. A new round of hottie/douchey mock, as the DB1 wishes for more Peyton List in Mad Men's Season three.

Here's your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Rufus Veinwright

I heard there was a secret scrote...

whose favorite cereal is Honey Nuts and Oats,...

...but you don't really care about cereal, do you?...

It goes like this...

The hair, the roids...

The forehead vein,...

The existential void...

That baffles the clueless hott... with Hallipoojah...

Apologies to Leonard Cohen and to Rufus Wainright. This guy is a douche. And our lady friend isn't naturally a-list, but has undeniable suckle thigh.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Eurobag

About time we get back to the basic 'bag tagging categories.

This is a primary one.

An archetype, if you will.

The Euroscrote. Poofy hair. Douchey bling. Chest reveal. Angora "Ed Wood" sweater.

And, the clincher, Bedazzler jeans. I can't help but wonder what the scions of the Left Bank in Paris would say to know that after a century of military invasion, cultural transformation, modernity shifting into postmodern crisis, and, of course, tasty fromage, this is all they'd have to show for it.

Monique is all that's natural and bouncy about the Eurohott, and her smile should be celebrated with fireworks and tree humping.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Tarzana: King of the Bunghole

As with Rufus Veinwright, Tarzana is a douche who would be a heaping uberscrote if making the "Kissy Lips" or "Douche Pout," but is nearly saved by his happy and relatively friendly un-douchey expression.

As a result, Tarzana is hard to hate.

He just looks happy to be there.

This in spite of shirtlessness in the club, hair spike, absurd pec tatt, nipple ring (!), hint of chin pube, and bizarre fig-leaf dressup.

Rachel Ray is going to teach a cooking show later, and while her arm tatt is beyond over-the-top unnecessary, and she's on the heavy side, there's still something tasty about her facial expression.

It says, "I would paddle your bottom, DB1. And then make you cocoa."

So them's your three. Not the greatest week of pics, but this is all fodder for next week's Smoot coronation. And I still need your vote.

Which of these three has the right mix of hott and douche to call itself HCwDB of the Week?

Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.

How to dig out of America's current economic crisis? Douchewear.

What does this clip teach us?

1. Visors attract more of a hip crowd.

2. You've got to be mindful of what's going on in popular culture. Which means, of course, "Mine... not yours."

3. "Bigg Dogg." via douche-to-english dictionary = "small penis."

Fistbumping is a relic of the early 00s. Definitely douchey, but can be passable in the right friendly circumstance (aka not sure if the other guy washed his hands).

Air Fistbumping a camera? With mandana and medieval quotation chest-tatt douche markings? While your Tiny Princess Hott snuggles?

Go directly to uberdouche. Do not pass Go.

What's most impressive about Starhead isn't the fact his shirt has a rose to match the rose he's given the brunette Famke Jansen hott.

It isn't even his commie belt buckle or triceratops gel hair.

It is the subtle finger points while grabbing dual ass pear.

They state, "Starhead may be playing up his androgynous rockstar persona, but when the ladies aren't paying attention, he got mad game, dog!"

No. No he do not got made game, dog.

For he only got crabs.

There's something to be said for the superhuman douchescrotes carrying ever onward despite age, receding hairlines and potential skin cancer.

Refusing to bow down to societal mock, they douche ever onward. Hat tilting and hair gelling to the last.

For all of us here at HCwDB, we need our supervillains to battle.

Without The Gator, the Donk, Fish Slap and Smoot, where would we as a society know to draw the line at garish turd-douchery in presence of the hott?

They help us to define the poo. As such, we should... well, continue to mock their sorry asses.

Here's your links:

Gramps wins! Good for gramps.

Do you hear that sucking sound in Vegas? It's a natural phenomenon that geologists call The Triforce of Douche.

Mila Kunis is the future ex-Mrs.DB1. I will woo her with dandelion wine and fried plantains until she grows bored and texts her agent demanding he cut the meeting short.

Some dude in Hollywood is on a comedy mission: Arthur Kade: The Miniseries. I'm just pleased I was one of the quotes featured. And now here's Arthur Kade: The Miniseres, Part 1. The problem is, Kade'll be flattered.

For the ladies: How to reduce cleavage wrinkles? Kush Support.

Reality thespian, intellectual scion and humanitarian social theorist Jon Gosselin is turning so douchey, the TLC network plans to blur all Ed Hardy from the show.

Orange County seems offended that I place them in my top five HCwDB areas. You may quibble with the rhetoric but can you really challenge the underlying premise? Or, in OC speak, "why y'all bein' a playah hatah?"

"I advertise my business with my muscles"

And finally, because I like to give back to the community, here's some hydroponic ass pear.

Go forth and celebrate. Another day of living.

When you're leaning in for a simultaneous boob grab and head lunge, causing Suzanne to stumble backwards and grab on to you so she doesn't fall down, the 'roid rage may be kickin' in, Joey.

Someone needs a time out.

And by time out, I mean anal probe from the Lizard People of Theta-9.

While I whisk Suzanne off to my pup tent for marshmallow shoulder rubs and awkward sleeping-bag groping.

Nothing says "sexy" quite like a Bleeth and a Douche cuddling by a parking lot rest stop in outer New Jerz.

Up next, The Bleeth Toss.

PIC DELETED

Do boobs a hot make?
Cuddles with Hardpocalypse,
phallic champagne pops.

Me thinks Heiddegger's
Existentialism Is
Boobs precede essence.

-- "Lesbian Thermos" Ernie Tubesock

sister's airbrushed shirt
stoically is mocking
his little pony

-- Dimples

eyes of alien
say call the mothership on
my giant funbags

-- Extra Douchetestrial

Hard body, worn face
Apart from melancholy
Nothing is real here

-- Deputy Douche

----
DB1,

I have been a solid follower of the site from the Great White North and approve wholeheartedly of your seemingly futile attempt to eradicate the douche or at the very least eradicate the hott's association with scrote.

I must extend a query related to the pink shirt on a dude. For years now I have railed against this practice based solely on the traditional belief that it is a color reserved for the fairer sex.

I personally believe it to be on the same level as so many other douche qualities. Like super-quaffed hair or excessive jewelry and anything else that is basically taking a traditional female approach to garments and grooming and wrongly applying to the male realm.

Thoughts?

Sincerely,
Bilbo Baggins
----

As with cars and tatts, I refuse to condemn an entire color to the realm of auto-scrote. I also think it's reductive to claim that color should be determined by socially imposed gender binaries. If we buy into society's determinant that "pink=girl" and "blue=boy," are we not letting the very dictates of culture determine what we wear in the same way Ed Hardy overcharges for feces stained t-shirts?

That being said, Pinky McShave here makes a strong argument as he and his "boyz" mug Tiny Dancer on the dance floor.

I turn it over to you. What say you? Are pink clothes on a guy automatically scrotey? Or should we refrain from the douchal condemnation of an entire color on the wavelength spectrum?

If you have to tattoo "HARD CORE" on your fingers, you are neither "hard," nor "core."

Even Svetlana learned that in Poland.

In Scrabble, unless there's a "double word" bonus, your hands are worth 14 points.

And if you interlace your hands, you're just CHOARRED. Which makes, like, no sense at all.

In fact there are numerous other eight letter words that would be more appropriate for finger tatting.

Like aardvark.

Or dognapper.

Or milkweed.

Or odometer.

Or psyllium.

Some remain confused about what exactly is meant by the "Rockstar Leniency Rule."

To wit (to Chiam Witz), here it is explained again:

In certain specific cases, those in which dressing up in douchesque ways are part of a theatrical or musical spectacle, there is some leeway granted before we tag "douche."

This covers the carnivalesque superhero (like the WWE), the stage show singer/performer (Kiss, Van Halen) and the from-the-streets success story (Lil' Wayne, 2Pac, Jewel Kilcher).

If musical success has been achieved, douchosity can be seen as a necessary costume or affect -- like whooping cough. It is not necessarily forgivable, it is simply factored in as potentially a part of the performative spectacle.

The second part of the R.L.R. involves factoring in humor or self-deprecation. Justin Timberlake, long seen as a major carrier of the Grieco Virus, has mostly redeemed himself by participating in self mocking and taking the piss out of his "pretty boy" construct. I'm not ready to grant Timberlake a full nottadouche just yet, but he's on the road of recovery.

Again, this is a case by case basis.

Kid Rock remains an ubersquat both on and off stage, no RLR granted. John Mayer attempts humorous self deprecation to appeal for an RLR, but in his case, Mayer simply reveals the gargantuan ego of the true douche rotting and festering in his soul.

The RLR is never automatic. It merely allows us leeway to account for the performative by the entertainer that we wouldn't grant to, say, one of the Joey Porsche Long Island poseur crew.

Looks like you caught a fishstick with guyliner, Sally.

Toss it back before it starts singing falsetto karaoke.

That reminds me.

Did I leave my greased up starhead kissing an Asian hott at home again?

I hate when I forget to kick it in the nads.

Okay, for those whining that Mensa Candidates didn't have enough hottness in it, I'm pulling the post.

But this is your punishment for annoying the DB1 with whining.

Smell it... smell it... now take it.

This mess is a toxic swirl of HCwDB iconography. Donkey Douche. Chandlerbag. An indeterminate bikini hott. Ubiquitous Red Cup. All these signifiers swirling in one image, recoded and remixed into one giant flashing neon poop.

I declare this pic art.

And by art, I mean AIYEEEEEE!!!! MEIN EYES!!!

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hcwdb-

This pic was taken at the rooftop at moon at the Palms in Vegas. I don't remember the particulars, but I do seem to remember them telling us they were male models. hahaha.

I live in LA, so nothing really surprises me anymore.

Thanks for the blog. I dig it!
- 'Becca
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Nice tag 'Becca, and while I'm not sure whether you're the brunette getting crunched between Fauxhawk Rocker or the blonde curling up with Roidy McDNeck, I give you props for surviving the exposure to Vegas Scrotery.

I don't think they lied to you, though. They clearly are male models. They just model diaper poopy.

So I'm buying my bagel and YooHoo this morning at the local Korean deli, when this old lady taps me on the shoulder.

Old lady: "Excuse me, sonny. Can you tell me how one can look like a douche while groping a hott in Europe?"

Excuse me? I responded.

Old lady: "The Eurodouche! How does it work? I'm talking without the Ed Hardy, bling, kissy lips and orange tan. How can we identify a Eurodouche mugging a Eurohott?"

Two words, I responded. Bedazzled jeans.

And then I handed her this pic.

She thanked me and bought a dozen lottery tickets.

The moral of this story is never look an alpaca in the teats.

Yup, your humble narrator is making no sense again. I blame the Yoohoo's sugary chocolate goodness.

Tarzana's found a tasty Jane to swing from his tree.

To root with his cheetah.

To loin cloth his noble savage.

To, uhm, have sex with.

Because I'm fresh out of euphemisms. And need a coffee.