The Douchebaguette: Tokidoki Barbie
Keeping the Douchies going on this 2011 Douchie Award weekend, Mr. Scrotato Head hands out his second award of the ceremonies:
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Say what you will about 2011. It was many things. But one thing it was not was a year replete with douchebaguettes.
Sure, there were plenty of paid-to-pose strippers sporting duck face and wounded souls. And the taint that is over-tatting is infecting the fairer sex faster than genital warts. But for the most part we were spared the blight that is Bleeth.
I said, “for the most part”.
No year is completely free of the taint that is the ruined woman, the beauty that once was, the hottie turned hurlie. Here are the best of the worst that the Boss saw fit to burden our souls and eyes with.
What red-blooded boy didn’t steal his sister’s Barbie doll, sneak away to the back of the garage, and with guilt and lust raging through his veins, pull down Barbie’s top to see what was underneath? I always thought Barbie would get nipples before she’d get tattoos. What’s next? Vajazzling her non-existent vajayjay?
For ruining what was once an enduring American icon, Mattel captures 2011’s Douchebaguette, plastic hands down.
Runner Up #1: Billy Dee Willhelm and Champagne Katie
Not all bleeth come in nasty packages. No, not all bleeth are repulsive, burned out shells of once adorable young daughters whose daddies somehow managed to screw them up sometime around the 3rd grade. Some, like Champagne Katie, are all sugar, glitter, and nom-nom-nom chompy goodness on the outside. But behind the $5,000 smile and beneath the flawless “Bath and Bodyworks” pampered skin is a 102 lb. core withered and blackened by too much attention from the more greased and tatted sex.
Oh Champagne Katie, how we would have all showered you with gilded rose petals, adorned your boner-inducing body with wrappings of the finest silk, and fought naked in the gladiator pits just for the chance to see you pout those soft, plump lips in our general direction. We would have built monuments of porch meat as a testament to your beauty, crafted poem and song in homage to that which is you, which is perfection, phrases and stanzas to make the very angels in heaven weep and all the demons in hell rend their sack cloth and wail in eternal jealousy of all that is you, that is hottie perfection.
And then you went and texted us.
Runner up #2: The “Lifestyle” Takes Its Toll
Brittle blonde hair from a bottle. Too small a top. Too short a skirt. Botox lips. Smell of cheap vodka on her breath and a look that says “Do me now ‘cuz in about 20 minutes I’m gonna be curled around the toilet in the ladies room”. The only thing missing is her four-year-old son who’s staying with grandma while mom’s “works another shift”. Oh, and we never even got to know her name. Honestly, what’s not to like? Well, just about everything.
Runner up #3: Buddha Took a Dump
There’s only so much the magnificent and resilient human body can endure before it reaches its zenith of energy, beauty, and luster, and then begins the inevitable decline into decrepitude. Roasting yourself in the sun, putting ink where ink shouldn’t go, and letting a hack Venezuelan plastic surgeon go to town on your face just pushes the expiration date forward faster than working in a slaughter house and smoking four packs of bare ass camels a day. Life’s doing a bad enough job on you on its own, no need to hurry it along all for the sake of another morning of “Why didn’t he call me? He said he loved me! God this happens every f*cking time!”
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Well played sir.
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.On the plus side…this generation of twelve year old boys won’t have to carry years (decades?) of guilt and shame around with them about jizzing all over their sister’s Barbie’s little plastic mounds of forbidden love.
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.I speak in the abstract, of course.
Double duty Mr. Scrotato Head! Double bravo!
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Did you fire everybody and get some time off or what? You are the guy George Clooney played in that movie about that outsourcing HR stuff aren’t you? I’m stones now cause the Mrs. is happy and doesn’t care. My balls are in her purse.
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This Barbie is not what the next band is talking about as they come to us live from Burt Sugerman’s Midnight Special. Roll it!
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Fucking awesome write up Scrotato Head! I especially love the bit in The “Lifestyle” ‘The only thing missing is her four-year-old son who’s staying with grandma while mom’s “works another shift”.’
Yo, Kroeger! You’re gonna make an excellent student, pops.
Mr. S.H.: Well done from me also. Throwin us a curve ball awarding a doll, but the write up more than does it justice.
Excellent work, SH.
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Oh boy, did Buddha take a gnarly dump! That pic takes so long to absorb, my rage fades into a slightly upset stomach.
As we sail off with recalibrated compii? into 2012 we should reflect on a few of the great ones we lost this year. Let’s start off the Goul Train of death notices with the man himself drifting away in Botswana. Africa unite.
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Dobie Gray
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*Maintaining forced smile watching a doll walk away with OUR DOUCHIE*
Man, there’s a check for 10% I ain’t getting…
^Nancy. Stick to one personality for Jesus- sized cocck sake.
I could shag that Barbie rotten!
Tokidoki,,,,sux. I tried to thwart her till now.
Speaking of dumps, I brought the sports page into the shitter with me but read this on the smart phone instead. Nice work, Mr S Head
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Did I say smart phone? I meant feces phone
Here’s one for the Rev. Early 70’s rockers “Captain Beyond” Live. Best ten minutes you’ll spend today:
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I had two Barbies growing up. I chopped the hair off of one and turned her punk and the other one I pimped out to my brother’s Transformers. If I have girls they will only get one of these Sodoku Barbies if they promise to rehabilitate her by teaching her to read and putting her to work.
Nice job again S. Head, pulling double shifts better get you some sweet OT.
BTW, I just alerted my Hollywood/LA media contacts (well, Twitter followers) Kinsey Schofield of Young Hollywood/Playboy Radio & Lauren Sivan of Fox News LA, to the 2011 Douchies, which is a sadly undercovered event among the glitterati.
Raising awareness! There should be a twibbon for this.
^You must wear the Twibbon.
@Rev, I am offended that you would even suggest that I would be Champagne Katie’s anything. Chicks like that give us a bad wrap. And by us I mean other hot chicks.
^I’ll be the judge of that. Photos to DB1 can be forwarded to me. Them’s some tall words, N.D. Hope you can walk the walk.
@Wedgie, send me a dick pic and we’ll start the negotiations.
Plus I’m not your type anyway, my parts contain no silicone.
You mean, contain no silicone….yet.
^I already have your attention and you don’t even know what I look like. What does that tell you numbnuts? I don’t need fake anything to get what I want.
Can anyone suggest an Ed Hardy twibbon?
Sweet merciful crap. Re-read my post on ‘Neck Dicky’ and change ‘he’ to ‘she’. It still applies. Even to dolls. Fuuuccccc. And everybody was worried about Growing Up Skipper back in the 70s. They had no idea of things to come. Hermit’s Machine(tm) has long, sexy legs of pink plastic.
Guys! Guys! Don’t be hatin on Nancy. Well not on my account. Hate away on her account.
But you’ll recall there was once a gennelman in a DB1 Mailbag post titled “Flirting With Champagne Katie”. A member in good standing whose scathing flensings had earned admiration from our own Medusa.
That guy is me. Having thus blotted my copybook, I remained for a while licking my wounds and lurking like Grendel’s mom.
Our time has now arrived. Champagne Katie is now in the forefront of the public mind, and we’re back for revenge, baby! Hall of Hott or bust.
Champagne Katie/Janira Gaxiola is quite a stunner if you do a google pic search. She apparently has an older sister who is also brutally hawt. She must be awfully dumb, though – tons of free advertising for a career that is clearly going nowhere and she threatens to sue………..bleethiness must be some sort of cranial parasite that lowers inhibitions, ruins judgement and critical thinking, and lowers IQ by about 50%…….
@Vin
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Captain Beyond sounds like the lovechild of all the sixties supergroups got raped by early Doobies. They had just th right amount of cowbell.
Nancy, my ability to ignore your nuttiness is wearing really thin, especially now that you’re dragging my not-so-good name into it.
Um, I’m not Nancy. DB1 can probably confirm this with technical wizardry. I am the late great Kennedy Smith. Follow me on twitter @TheKennedySmith for red carpet Douchie coverage.
Did I step into some ongoing cyberfeud?
Beautiful evisceration, Mr. Scrotato Head!
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Flensers.
I gots no beef with Medusa. Checked out your Twitters Artist Formally Known As Kennedy Smith. Nice Douchies coverage.
Fuck Twitter.
I used to think Fuck Twitter too. But it’s opened amazing new vistas in celbrastalking. A large number of televisual chomp-nom-suckle-gnaw would recognize me now, with very little effort put into it.
And then would come the pepper spray.
Not worth the slave labor in China to produce these.