Zeke's retro 80s themed after-school party was off to a pretty inauspicious start.

Only the ladies from Glee Club had bothered to show. And Zeke knew they were just there to build the college transcipt.

But then Lonnie, an art school aspirant with indeterminant sexual orientation, also showed up.

But Lonnie was only there because he's writing the whole thing up for the school paper, "The Razor."

So Zeke was pretty bummed.

But he decided to rock out anyway.

Sunny would like to know what kind of car you drive.

In Brooklyn there's Hipsterbag Marty,
Who wears 'beaters to a Williamsburg party,
He hits on Paola,
Who sells homemade granola,
Then tells her in his pants he did sharty.

So I get that this choadtaint with the double straw mandana and douche-tags has decided to drop trou for the boozy bar wenches.

But can someone theorize what possible attractions could be drawing the crowd to the far corner over this spectacle before us?

Donkey show?

Live chicken beheading?

Or are they simply turning away in disgust?

And yes, this is last November's "Red Tony." I was gonna link, but all my old pics are still offline until the new server is up.

I'm still creeped out by that ending of that old Twilight Zone episode, when the doctors revealed their faces and we learned it was the woman who was beautiful, and the doctors who were Jersey douchebags.

That was a good twist.

What a country!

Yeah. Not sure about the new ad campaign, Absolut.

Where the guys are so poo...

EDIT: In the comments threads, bagnonymous traces the origins of this pic to the celebration of a traditional Doucheish holiday:

----
These choads have emblazoned their chests with the Mark of the Douche in observance of the holy day, Assover.

Assover coincides with the anniversary of HCwDB, a day in which baghunters collectively wipe their asses on tattoo-graphic-printed tees, a form of ironically mocking the shit-stains who actually wear such shirts. Aware of this trend against their people, though, Douches worldwide began to emblazon their shirts with the Mark of the Bag--a shit-stain of sorts--as a mark to the 'baghunters to skip their shirts. A sort of, "Yo, don't shit-stain me, Bro!", if you will.

This holy day is commonly celebrated by practicing traditions such as "Pass the STD", a game in which dudes outnumber the whobags by 50%, and yet somehow everybody gets laid. Other games include "Don't Peek into the Gloryhole", which requires the use of protective eyewear (as seen in the photo), as well as "What's in My Red Cup? F*ck It I'll Drink it Anyway."
----

Joey Lipps knew the ragin' frat kegger wouldn't be complete without his pink balloons.

Tina may be, like, so wasted. But the bustier is 19th Century class, so don't forget it. Tina was a big fan of Sense & Sensibility in 5th grade.

And a special shout-out to RareAss Yellow Cup, who hasn't been spotted in months.

Nothing says settling into mid 40s doughy middle age quite like the slit t-shirt and the guyliner.

Sorry Jack.

Jenny's award winning curves are Paid-to-Pose only.

No, not even if you pull your patented flippy spin move. That worked so well back in college in '87.

Happy birthday fellow hunters and huntresses, mockers and boobie hottie suckle thighs!

I was hoping to have your birthday gift ready (the new site), but alas, the going is slow when the tech team is drunk.

But soon. Soon, mocking mandanas and lusting for cleavite will go to the next level.

Or maybe it won't.

Hell if I know anymore.

Either way, we'se four.

After the physics conferences are over, and their papers on Quantum Mechanics and the variations of string theory have been presented, Willy and Sharlene like to unwind.

In the boiler room of a Turkish waystation and part-time torture chamber.

Meanwhile, Joey and Pete celebrate their limited futures.

"If dark matter is made of neutrinos, then our universe's entropic expansion may be accelerating faster than previously thought.

And my mandana, hat and glasses may look way stupid. but Sharlene digs it."

Somewhere in this lineup of fresh squeezed, taint filtered juicedouche, I've carefully hidden one, maybe two, Sorority Girls.

Look closely.

Can you see their fathers weeping and rending their garments and cursing Ganesh?

If there's one thing I've learned in my many days traversing the globe as a spice runner, anthropologist and part-time pimp, it's this:

Gall bladder tongue removal just isn't sanitary.

No, not even in Tijuana.

Regular voting will resume next week.

Instead, I'm giving Antonio and Vanessa, a coupling of classic Jerz Guid, an honorary HCwDB of the Week.

Because bra popping out of low cut white tanktop is about as douchebaguette as it gets for Vanessa.

And Tony busts toxic eyebrow sculpt, Ed Hardy 10 Degree Hat Tilt, and the bizarre white belt substitute phallus trend that we've been tracking for a year now.

But props to the Snack Shack on the Long Island shore for maintaining such quality health standards on their floor.

At what point does a douche, at 2am with his sorority hott half drunk and sloppy, think "now would be a great time for a mirror self portrait"?

And who gets a tatt of Archimedes on their upper arm area?

Yup.

More random questions as the DB1 sits around on a Sunday and hopes his tech team decides to help get the new site back online today. So far, no luck.

Remember kids, "consistently tease her while giving her compliments." Works every time!

Note to Euro Douches:

There is one, and only one, instance in which the low cut pec-reveal shirt is acceptable. And it is pictured here.

Otherwise, unless you're chasing down terrorists for kidnapping your daughter, button it up, greasyfreak.

Belinda, you make the duckface and my soul dies a tiny bit.

But since Grampa Al forgives you, I will too.

One thing we can all agree on about the new healthcare bill:

The Orange Tan Tax is a nice blow to douchal narcissism.

Between this and last month's pollution penalty levied on the makers of Axe Bodyspray, the first serious pushback on douchal product has kicked into overdrive. And not a moment too soon.

Now if only we could tax douchey-ass frosted tip spikey hair.

Dave just got back from South by Southwest, and, as he wrote on his blog, Ice cream I Scream, it was "almost Burning Man rad."

Shelly has the dancing doe eyes of eternal haunting.

And so I slap a penguin in honor of her thighs.

As we approach the four year birthday of HCwDB (on Tuesday!), I can't help but be both elated as well as Hostess cupcake enhanced pensive. Hall of Scrote legend King Douchuous IV's hair spike (pictured here) has transformed from mockable irritant to a strange form of safety and reassurance to me.

Our war on cultural douche plague and attempts to wake up the boobie hottie from her mistakes has gone far and wide.

We've made an impact, that's for sure.

But scrotewankery continues to mutate. The mega-corps who rely on selling unnecessary and overpriced name-brand products require perpetual sexual insecurity and eternal chase of the self to exist to sell their wares.

So it goes that the fight must continue. And the DB1 must stop drinking so much.

Since my excellent list of links are frozen somewhere inside the server rebuild going on this weekend, I have one, and only one Friday Link for you.

But is a soothing healing transformative dream link indeed:

Woodland Nymph Pear.

Follow her braless visage as we once again head into the internets breach and hope and pray we come out on the other side of 2.0 glories.

As is written in The Book of the 'Bag:

'Ere, tho, when 'Bag Meets Bleeth, and both are perfectly calibrated in scrotal harmony, so shall the disco ball rise.

Indeed it shall, Tommy and Holly. Indeed it shall.

Mike Toolkowsky may be starting work at his dad's lumber yard next year after getting his GED. Where a forty year career of monotony and coffee breaks, a dumpy wife, and occasional tickets to see the Sooners play, awaits his eventual broken spirit.

But for now, Mike Toolkowsky will party. And he will party hard.

Meanwhile, one of the Jenkins sisters is hotter than the others. This has created great friction in the lives of Kelly, Kendra and Kaylie. But who are we kidding. Kaylie wins.

Site in hazy state,
Like ridic arm fung tattoo,
Blonde on right heals all.

Posing in Vegas
fountain will not wash away
poor life decisions.

-- Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche

Chad's orange short shorts
Draw attention away from
His necrotic arm

-- End the Haberdouchery

Matt Damon and three
Gays, Will not deflect my glaze
From Uma's donut.

-- Anthony LaBaglia

Green algae stick to
Douche Left's Arm. I understand
They clean up oil slicks.

- Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt

subconscious: "nice racks!"
multicolored funbags, yeah!
pool needs more chlorine.

-- Bag A

Since it's apparent
They're not here to be baptised,
Just drown them instead.

-- scrotum pole

Ouch, my eyeballs burn
Someone please drop a toaster
In this evil bath

-- Justin

Also my regular email, douchebag1 @ hotchickswithdouchebags.com is still not reconfigured, so if ya wanna drop a line:

JayLouisDB1 at the gmail.

Word.

Keep sendin' in your pics/emails/tags.

Looks like the server may have gone down due to a malicious attack by a disgruntled douche.

We're still untangling the mess, but whether it was a pissed off 'bag who couldn't take the cultural mock he so richly deserved or not, the new server will be fully functional and online shortly.

In the meantime, keep your 'bag hunting muscles in shape by taking on Tooly the Head here, and the glorious glories of drinkable Sherry and Brandy.

Since we're going with a Thank-You-God Sorority Cupcakes (TYGSC) theme, here's another lineup of tasty state school hottness.

But look closely.

Somewhere in this pic I've hidden a goofy Nerdbag who's just glad to be there.

Can you find him?

Degree of difficulty: +2 Due to the boobs trap.

While I'm hard at work fixing the server today, by which I mean drinking and lying on my rug, musing on the inner boobie bouncal ratio, lets play the game that's sweeping the nation:

Where's Waldouche?

Somewhere in this lineup of eleven Thank-You-God Sorority Cupcakes (TYGSC),with perfect teeth and legs of uber-gnaw, I've carefully placed one creepy Perry Farrel Frattard.

Look closely.

Can you find him?

If you can't, I've carefully arranged four Ubiquitous Red Cups to help guide you.

Well, that's one solution.

Looks like I gotta rebuild my server from the ground up. And just when I was ready to launch 2.0. Unbelievable.

I want to take my frustrations out mocking this clowny scoliosis sufferer, who actually shaved lines in both his temple and back of head area.

He's also popping Tiny Pink Woody, which, ironically, is also the name of a new flavor of Peeps.

Meanwhile, Surfer Carol is drunk, confused, and has a thing for guys with dysfunctional servers. So I got that going for me.

Hello folks! Your humble narrator here.

The relaunch just crashed the server, so I'm redirecting you to the old site's backup until we fix things.

Hang in there.

In the meantime, enjoy some Boomer Pear.

What is the importance of Ubiquitous Red Cup?

URC grounds us as it guides us. It is the blank canvas that allows us to focus our deepest projections of childhood memory. The Primal Scene returned uponst douchebag and hot chick. Images mass replicated and reproduced without tactility through the pixel and the screen that become collective hallucinations of each of our individual longing for the unattainable in our earliest cognitive development.

Or, as Lacan might argue, URC is our objet petit a. The signifier of the lack through the solid color of abstraction. Yet, given its function as that most primitive of vessel -- the bringer of liquid -- it also has systemic function. The bestower of life. It is here, where URC cuts through culture spectacle and reminds us of corporeal need, and therefore truth.

Conclusion: The DB1 needs more boobie hottie suckle thigh.

Here's your links:

Attention New Zealand 'Bag Hunters! MTV New Zealand is now airing Is She Really Going Out With Him? weekdays at 8:30pm. Checkitout, and let me know if you're seeing it in Middle Earth.

Brooklyn Hipsterbags and Parents face-off in a douchefest of annoyance. I can't tell which is more annoying, the Hipsterbags, the Parents, or the fact that CNN now uses "hipster" as a descriptive term.

Nothing But Skulls. Bringing pre-packaged and mass marketed rebellion product to bland suburban strip-malls since 2010.

Two cast members of The Jersey Shore escaped injury when the roof collapsed at a Purim Party they were hosting. The previous sentence will confound Kabbalah rabbis for many a generation.

Skweezy Jibbs is my hero. "Barack Obama muthaf*cka."

And what's this, ladies? Skweezy is single and available and has a profile on OK Cupid? "SOCRITES AND PLAYDOUGH IS COOL."

Ed Hardy invades a tech trade show and ruins an ass pear.

Speaking of classic 1980s proto-scrotewankery, The Karate Kid II's Chozen Togushi was classic retrodouche.

I Peed in a Horse Once: the story of a Darksock, an internet, and the beginnings of a legend.

Anyone who didn't think HCwDB finalist Shiyen was hott, for shame, people. Have some Shiyen Ass Pear.

Not enough? Okay, here ya go.

Four Pear.

What's that? The DB1 is feeling generous? Okay, one more:

Deck Pear.

Because as Blogger goes into its death spiral, the DB1 is about to jump ship to a brand new website. The HoHos are fresh. Life is good. Go forth and multiply, Hunters and Huntresses. For the guava is ripe.

HCwDB of the Week hott-side winner Luane rides Corporal Faux and finds not one, but two, URCs in sharktooth infested waters.

Remember, fellow 'bag hunters, the URC guides us, binds us, penetrates us. But it also follows our commands.

----
Hello Sir:

I love your website, HCWDB is great fun. Your writing is insightful, eloquent and, at times, poetic. I’m someone who finds humor in those who lack awareness of their own folly.

I do have a request, and if you could be so gracious as to grant it, it would be appreciated. Can you print the angry letters you get from some of the lovely ladies? I have found their (misspelled) words and their (stunning) (mis)use of grammar to be a wonderful read. If you have received numerous letters, perhaps a small column might be in order.

Thank you, and keep up the good work, because sometimes it is such fun to be judg-mental

S.G. from Michigan
----

Every brilliant email I receive accusing me of being a "hatter" gets published on the site. Unfortunately of late, the playahs have not been writing in as much. Which only means one thing: We need to mock harder.

Spandex Rabbit Turd,
Gets Blair to fondle his nads,
In grade school rec room.

Turn your head and cough
You Rainbow bright Douchebag Fool
Nurse Cutie hates you.

- Douche Wayne

Ted's garb inspired by
Whitney Houston video
And grandpa's sock drawer

- Yahoo Scrotius

New Yankees uni
Will be worn for away games
Blair gives a cup check

- Vin Douchal

80's unitard.
American Apparel
You suck so badly.

- End the Haberdouchery

Jim Halpert clone lets
Karen feel his junk on new
show: "The Orifice."

- Bagnonymous

Angela answers,
When asked what his schlong feels like:
"A baby carrot."

- scrotum pole

First grade teacher Jen
Brings Douchebag to show-n-tell
Says 'Stay in School, Kids!'

-- Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt

Technicolor Douche
In a pro-Wrestling Onesie
Yuck! No! Don't touch it!

- Pablo Sinatra

Susie cries with glee
at her first touch of a real
tiny mangina.

- Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche

Sadistic teacher
Plus swole tongued man-tard:
Sackless meat puppet.

- Captain Bringdown

Like shirtless greased up taintlickers with unearned Maori ab-tatts hitting on young Carly Simon. It's enough to inspire your humble narrator to kick back and enjoy a tasty Ubiquitous Red Cup of quality Night Train Express fine fortified wine.

For, after downing a few bottles, I have a confession to make.

Once, while traveling with Bedouin oxen herders by camel through outer Uzbekistan, in a fit of pique I slapped a migrant Armenian named Armen with a dead halibut for bruising my lettuce.

It's not really relevant to this post. But it's been bothering me and I needed to share.

----
New Orleans Club Bans Jersey Shore-alikes

Nobody wants a douchebag in their establishment, and New Orleans club Republic has taken their ban visual with their anti-Jersey Shore poster campaign. Among the banned labels are the usual suspects (Affliction, Ed Hardy and Christian Audigier), though there is curiously no mention of no fist pumping...
-----

article.

I ran a link to this last Friday, but so many people are sending it in as proof positive that HCwDB's war on Scrote has its victories, that it's worth celebrating again.

Fellow 'Bag Hunters, hold this moment dear in your hearts when it feels like our battles against the Ed Hardpocalypse are being lost.

There are victories out there. But we must keep up the mock if we're ever to save Hott from Choad.

I love a good neck nibble as much as the next guy. More so even.

But when you're wearing tight pleather, spiked your hair up like a windblown post-Katrina Chia Pet and are more concerned with the camera than the boobies below, you is a 'bag.

Stephanie's biological clock is about to ding to "Minivan Driving PTA Mom," but she's hangin' on the clubs with a bedazzled iPhone for as long as she can.

So for that, we salute her.

And by salute her, I mean tasty Frosted Flakes.

Heavily into the design of HCwDB 2 and need your feedback.

Which of the following headbanners most grabs your hooha and plays with your winkydink?

(please ignore spelling errors, designers tend to be visual folk)

Version C

Version E

Version F

The only difference between the three is the headbanners, and the black diamond is for the HCwDB logo (still in progress, as you can see).

Thoughts? Feeback? HoHos?

Also if any designers out there thinks they can do better and wants to take a crack at the logo or the headbanner, please do so. If I use it for the site you'll get a free signed copy of my book, a hearty handshake and a napkin.

Hark! Oh soft squishy flesh fabric,
How I'd squeeze each of thee lightly,
Yet with consistent conviction and determined pressure,
Like a stress ball they used to sell at The Sharper Image,
Before The Sharper Image went out of business,
Because no one needed a glass static ball thingy,
Or a digital talking pen,
Your older friend Sharon seems sweet,
She can watch me grope,
But not Sleazy Ken,
For his chin pubes are rank.

Haven't done an HCwDB After Dark for my late night readers in awhile, so this one's for us.

C'mon in!

There are towels by the fridge. Pull up one of those sofa chairs I had imported from Bangledesh. Grab some chocolate covered gummi worms and a tasty Mr. Pibb over at my portable soda counter.

For it's late night After-Hours HCwDB.

And, as Dick Miller says, there are different rules around here.

Plaster of Paris bagel paperweights.

Or shouting Surrender Dorothy after having sex with Roseanna Arquette.

"Whipped"?

"Gypped?"

"Snipped"?

Ubiquitous Red Cup tells us that this foursquare of poo is unredeemable Jerz crank flushitude.

Except for Marnie on the left. Who is awkward and shy. And only wears Ed Hardy because she developed at a young age and is still terrified by all the attention her boobies bring.

But I would not focus on her boobies, like everyone else. Instead, I would gnaw her ankles lightly, and with a touch of wasabe.

Until she called down to the lobby to ask the R.A. to have me removed from the premises. Since I'm not a student.

And I'd leave quietly.

Johnny Cash just set his guitar on fire in the afterlife.

EDIT: The comments thread regs respond:

AV: Who did those tats? A 2nd grader on ritalin with a sharpie? Sweet Cleetus.

Mr. White: Poo traveled the country, talking to students at high schools, to act as a warning against getting drunk and trying to tattoo yourself with a Spirograph.

Vin Douchal: excuse me while I lift my dog's tail and stare at his quivering pucker to improve my mood

Fat, Drunk and Douchey: Isn't A Boy Named Poo the b-side to the song One Bleeth at a Time? I need to wipe down my screen with Valtrex because of this photo. And my eyes with bleach.

Captain Bringdown: Please God, I hope one of those lines is labeled "Cut Here".

Publius Choadius Naso: That tat looks just like the shit that the Iron Maiden fans used to draw in their Theology notebooks just to piss of the teacher.

End the Haberdouchery: Congratulations kid, you're an Ed Hardy coloring book. Way to be a f*cking badass.

robert: I may no longer be able to reproduce after seeing this much unadulterated douche/bleethe mix.

(yup, I'm cut-n-paste happy since today was Weekly day)

A tough three-way split in very tight voting. And by tight, I mean Zebra boobies. But with a three douche run including Where's Trojan Helmet?, Corporal Faux and Corporal Faux in the Water, Ubiquitous Luane brought Ubiquitous Red Cup and Capt. Rehab to a peak shaped win. The voters speak:

memphis doucheworkers local 421: captain rehab and luanne, for introducing herpes into somebody's water supply

Tony Ventresca: My vote goes to the Captain & Luana, but a close second to the Cartoonbags, and ONLY because Luana is hotter than Kara and obviously a human female instead of the plastic Auton that is Kara.

Bob: I give it to the Captain and Luane for the natural boobage, and stupid shades, fauxhawk, dumb tatts, URC, and a SPW.

Dex: Rehab, on the other hand, has a head that is much too big. Much much too big. So if I were to push him over to see if whatever holding his hair up was water-soluble or not, I feel confident there wouldn't be any repercussions. And Luane looks like she might be into that sort of thing. I'd push over an entire army of terracotta warriors domino-style for her.

Douchesquire: Though the angle is wrong, you can see the supple back arch and out-thrust butt, leading me to believe she likes it from behind, which is a winner. He jut sucks, for all the reasons that are glaringly apparent. Especially those glasses. And pink shorts. And 6 lb watch. And close encounters faux-hawk. And ear bling. etc. there needs to be some chlorine added to that gene pool.

Captain Bringdown: Captain Rehab is a synergistic scrotisserie of poor choices that began the moment his club foot hit the hotel rug that morning. Each painful decision apparently scrutinized for the ability to maximizing his appeal to rapists of midget Elvis impersonators or cognitively disabled UFO cultists. If Jim Jones and Marshall Applewhite had a butt-love baby born in the throes of auto-erotic asphyxiation with its own rectal umbilical cord, this is how it would dress.

LCDouche Scrotesystem: The reason Cap'n gets my salute, however, is his overall effect on me. He didn't wake up a douche... he had the costume hanging up ready to go, though. He's really TRYING to squeeze every last douch-drop out of his bloated Gunt. He is in this fight for the long haul, no matter how many people he nauseates along the way.

Ashfish: If only he had been standing in Hilo Bay when this was taken, he could have gotten taken out in the tsunami surges.If we're lucky, those green skulls will come to life and eat out his heart. Yeah, I'm grumpy.

Maxim Kovalenko: Captain Rehab FTW. I had something scathing and epic written for this one, but conflicting edits killed it, just like the DNA gray water in this picture is killing my soul.

Douche Mengia: Arrrr Captain rehab for spreading the douche scurvy (herps) to schools of sluts and fish. Cancer to the eyes of your mother. And by mother, I mean YOU.

TheReverendDoom: Capt Retard and the hott Luane for the win... Luane is all sorts of hot and the Captain looks like he held in a giant pencil sharpener for 10 minutes that day.

Abdouchah the Butcher: I'm going with the Captain and Luanne because he is total buffoon 'bag overdrive and she strikes my fancy. Which I like.

There's just no beating cloudy water, fungal tatts, six pound watch and douche-hair, people. Anyone who doesn't see the uberdouche and pseudo-librarian hottness/skankness of confusion in this pic has become too jaded by hottie/douchey cohabit. However, almost winning and coming in a very close second was the outrageousness of Cara and Toon:

clamfist: Cartoon bags ftw. If asked to draw the perfect douche couple, this is what I would come up with. Of course, you would have to use your imagination, because all I can draw is stick figures.

Dr. DB: Toon Bag - he actually perpetuates the Douche virus with his tough persona, as the younger crowd will try to emulate his style. This is why he must be stopped. And by stopped I mean mocked behind a blogger name, because honestly he frightens me.

MoeDouche: Cartoonbags FTW! I just want to see Kara's silicon-filled balloons again in the monthly drawing.

boatbutter: I don't want to vote for the Cartoonbags because they're over the top and we've seen a million of their tribe, but that's also exactly why I have to. Thus if the Paradox of Douche.

Charles Nelson Douchely: Even though Kara auditioning for "Nanny Dickering: The Motion Picture", I must acknowledge the successful mixture of a douchey shirt with ridiculous tats, my vote has to go towards Toon.

Poor Shiyen and her assorted DJ Douches. So innocent, but not enough to gain the support of true hottie/douchey toxicity. But still, enough to pull some votes just for sexy eyes.

jimmymanners: I'd call it for toon easily if Kara was an actual hott. But she ain't. Rehab would beat DJ SB by himself, but I likes me some Shiyen. Since Luane and Shiyen both brought it multiple ways I'm going on the totality of their work. Shiyen and DJ SB FTW.

IRA Darth Aggie: Cartoonbags FTW. The hotts are all hot, the 'bags are all poo. But you can not escape the douchiness of Cartoonbags, as they epitomize what is wrong with the choad & bleeth crowd.

Mr. White: I'm sick of cartoon bags and yearn for a simpler, subtler bag, one who smells faintly of pee and weed. And that is DJ Smelly Bottom. And more importantly, the sexy, thunderous thighs of Shiyen. Shiyen and her parade of douche FTW.

ehcuodouche: DJ Smelly Bottom has the most punchworthy face, and he's soiling my precious Shi-yen. Damn you douchebags! Damn you all to hell!

Fat, Drunk and Douchey: I am going to have to go with Shiyen. She is like the United Colors of Bennetton of Douche. She is the United Nations of Scrote. She culls the worst that all races have to offer and presents them for our viewing displeasure. She even brings in Toon Bag for a guest appearance. And I would happily gnaw on her thighs like a tiny badger with a napoleon complex.

gaijindouche: Gonna go with Shiyen and whoever. The other two bleeths make me want to give them a sandwich. If I want ribs I'll go out for bbq. Shiyen makes me want to tie her up and beg for various things. Safety word is "banana".

scrotum pole: At a solid 73, Smelly Bottom is just three IQ points above the developmental disibility exemption, but he gets the win nevertheless. My idea of the perfect afternoon would include Shiyen's thighs, a bottle of merlot and an epilady.

Em: DJ Smelly could probably take the cap off and be a notta but he just simply will not. And Shiyen... Shiyen is perfection incarnate and I would pick up, polish, frame and hang on my wall her fake nail should one fall off.

I'm glad others appreciate the real world confusion of Shiyen's tasty attractiveness. But this was Rehab and Luane's week to shine. And by shine, I mean crap on our virtual collective. Lets let just a douchalo take us home:

A faux-hawk doesn't guarantee the win but when your presence, albeit only ankle deep, in an otherwise pristine body of fresh water makes it look like my Sunday morning (okay,early afternoon)vomit of Tanqueray and cocktail olives, you're a douchebag...and winner. Captain Rehab and Ubiquitous Luane FTW. Now someone please fire up the Evinrude and chop this 165 pounds of ass lint into chum.

Exactly. The only thing potentially pulling this pic away from greatness is Luane's Bleethitude. But librarian glasses count for a lot. And so our final slot before the HCwDB of the Month on Monday has been filled. Who will take the second slot, after Stackhouse, at the 2010 Douchie Awards?

----
What up douche1,

Was at a little soiree during the summer. There was a drunk, jersey shore-type goon hitting on my girlfriend. I snapped this picture of him quickly with my girlfriend's camera, while he tried to swoon her.

Total clown.... 'Cept he kept tellin my girlfriend that his schmeck was comparable to a baby carrot, kinda gave him points for that number....

-Dennis
----

Good work, Dennis. When the chin pubes begin to resemble the door lines on the 2010 Audi A5, you know you've tagged an uberdouche.

And the Savior 'Bag said unto his flock, "When you drink from Ubiquitous Red Cup, this is my taint you taste. And when you make hand gestures to show the world that you are "Woo!," it is my hand gestures that you make. Remember me when you drink and Woo."

-- Corinthians Leather, 4:20

Not content simply to compete in the HCwDB of the Week with Captain Rehab, Luane's brought Corporal Faux to her Army of the Unwashed.

Gonna be tough to beat that level of cloudy taint-water.

Looks like Luane's in the lead to win the Weekly.

Sure, by day Freddie sells washer/dryer repair parts, wholesale, at various swap meets across the greater Atlanta tri-region area.

But by night, Freddie Von Gimp knows that, to dazzle Brenda, all he needs is:

1. Guyliner

2. Hair gel

3. The dried penis of a tiger shark for potency, should Brenda desire humpty hump at 2:17 am.

Lucky for the future of society, culture and the arts and sciences, Brenda will not desire humpty hump at 2:17am.

Shiyen's planning on spending the next twenty minutes cuddling with this guy she affectionally terms, "Gwai-Lo Buddha" until more people vote for her.

Good luck, Shiyen.

Not sure it's going to win you the Weekly, but I admire your douche-cuddling efforts.

And by admire, I mean mock whimsically.