Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Disco Pat

You didn’t think I was going to let a genius discovery like Pat only get one pic here at HCwD, did you?

Of course not.

I care too much our endless pursuit of douche and the hotties who love them to let Pat pass without a second look.

Dig Disco Pat’s pinkness and bling. The gel face and mysterious rips/stains on the jeans. Looking slightly less androgynous than previously, Pat still confuses and astounds the mind with his confusing wrongness and sexually mixed up wretchitude.

But not enough to bother this perky swan, apparently.

Shiny McCheeks

Ah, the double sideways V sign. Douchebag Hand Gesture #58. We haven’t seen one of these on the site in awhile. Nor have we seen elephant pants. Shiny McCheeks here doesn’t deserve two angels curling up in his lap. He deserves a straw full of termites shoved up his nose. Where they’ll hopefully burrow into his brain. Resulting in a new mutant hybrid, the Termite ‘Bag.

Not that termites are particularly dangerous. They’re simply small and annoying insects. Like parachute pants boy here. I want to hang him by his feet off a cliff like Ahnuld in “Commando,” then come up with some witticism before dropping him. Something like, “Your cheeks are shiny.” Granted it’s not the best one-liner, but it would still result in dropping him off a cliff. So in that sense, it’s Shakespeare.

SwimBag and CaveHottie

Normally costume party ‘bags don’t fully capture the essence du douche, but in SwimBag’s case, douche face trumps all. Giant plastic stick-on eyebrows, facial pubes circa early Ron Jeremy, and douche nipple ring cement ‘bag status.

CaveHottie is all sorts of good. I’d invent fire with two pieces of flint just to cook her some Mastadon.

On a side rant, I’ve never gotten the whole concept of an “Asian Fetish” thing among some guys. I’m as lustful for the Asian hottie as I am for all other hotties, but since when did an ethnicity equal a fetish? Porn shops always list it like it’s some sick perversion. “Lesbian. Bondage. Orgy. Asian.” What’s that about? Where’s the “Lesbian. Bondage. Orgy. Australian.” signs?

HCwD of the Week: Spanky

It was a tough vote this week, almost too tough, as all four candidates were douchey/hottie exemplars. But thanks to a late surge, Spanky, or Arther Ashe Douche, managed to take the crown, thanks largely to the power of his hottie’s hotness and his own “costume party” going on at a non-costume party.

And those boobages. Mui buono.

As the prolific and omnipresent anonymous put it:

Any douche that shaves – then oils down – his legs leaves no room for douche competition. I don’t care if it is a costume party. Not to mention tasty Scandinavian sweet tart w/milky way cleavite showing…I’d like to lead a Major Tom to that galaxy of goodness.

Nicely put, Anon. count douchula explains the dilemma:

This was a VERY tough contest this week. #3 and #4 are really close. Both are so douchey that it makes my head want to explode Scanner style, but in the end I’m gonna have to go with #4 Arthur Ash Douche. Here is my analysis: First, hottie in the picture is DAMN FINE. I would swim through shark infested waters with a chum bucket tied around my waste just to get to eat her nail clippings. Second, it has been mentioned that this is a costume party, which I can understand because this douche appears to be in costume. Thing is nobody else is wearing a costume. This leads me to one of two conclusions: Either this guy actually dresses like this or he decided to wear a costume to a non-costume party. Either way this makes him a major douchebag. Plus I’m jealous that he’s getting to spank that hottie with a tennis racket.

#3, “Classic Poo,” came in a close second. We may need to raise his jersey in the Hall of Scrote at some point simply on his own merits. Or as Douchestar Runner puts it:

Now–Classic Poo. A photo I wish I could say I found myself. This dude is like a douche archetype, a character you think only exists in literature or the movies or perhaps a Bon Jovi video circa 1988 . And here he is in the flesh, on some perfect picturesque California beach. I have a hard time comprehending that this is a real person and not a dude paid to dress up in a theme park or something, or some supreme douche-being that mistakenly got zapped over to our world on his motorcycle from an alternate douchiverse. Because dudes like this don’t really exist, do they?? I guess that’s what it looks like here, though. The chicks are not the greatest, not as hot as Spanky’s girl (oh I wish that I had Spanky’s girl!) but just fine and wearing some classy dresses as well as smiles that let you know they’re thinking “holy crap, is this guy for real?”

Well said, D.R. It may be time for a doucho-a-doucho showdown next week. Yup, a “HCwD of the Month” face off. That’s gonna be a smackdown of epic proportions. In the meantime, I smell like sewage so am off to take a shower.

Pat

Ya know, some days I think I should’ve just stayed in bed.

Where's Waldouche: Sleepover Edition

While we’re getting in the last votes for the HCwD of the Week contest and mourning the loss of P. Douchey, here’s another game of “Where’s Waldouche.”

Somewhere, hidden deep in this photo, is a greasy, beer swilling scrote.

Can you find him?

Look carefully.

Reader Mail

P. Douchey wrote in with this polite request:

Take down motor scrote and P. Douche please.

I always appreciate “please.”

ChinPube II: Electric Douchaloo

Here’s another view on ChinPube’s gothic bling. If anyone ever doubts the unholy force of douche-face, one need only observe its scrotey powers here.

Seriously, gaze into those eyes. You’re being hypnotized by douche. Soon you too will wear giant gothic spikes around your neck while gelling up your shaved chest.

Lohan Hottie’s a bit awkward in her pose, it kinda looks like her head’s too small for her body, but I’d still love her in many romantic and karmic permutations.

Voting’s still open for the HCwDotW contest, so get them votes in below if you haven’t voted already. I’m way too hung over to add up the votes today. Damn Thunderbird. At first it says, “Drink me! I’m only $1.99 a bottle!” Then it says, “Sucka! You feel like crap!” Stupid talking wine. Stop talking to me, talking wine.

Antibihotics

I would wade through a sea of pirhannas in the deep forrests of Africa while carrying a stack of iron maidens, juggling ostrich eggs, gargling a double shot of MacCallan 18 year, and humming the theme to “Rawhide” merely for the pleasure of lighting off organic cucumber fireworks at the base of a forty foot shrine made of bamboo shoots and plantains simply to pay tribute to this hottie’s uber-hotness.

She’s so fantastic my fillings ache.

She’s what I like to call antibihotics. Antibihotics are hotties who can cure anything simply by being. Not by doing. By existing. Through zen hottitude. Through om-presence perfection.

I would read Longfellow then nibble on her shoulderblades.

Oh, yeah, and the dude with pink upturned collar and hat? Uhm. What’s the word I’m searching for. I just had it.

Oh yeah.

Douchebag.

Pink Lipstick and a Ball of Pube

No chin should be shaped like this. It’s unnatural. It defies the laws of non-douchiness, which is another way of saying it’s poo. The pube fungle on it doesn’t help matters neither.

Grown up Lindsey Lohan hottie is literally being cruel with that dress. An unfair level of meanness that hurts on that deep, gut-check level. Check out the dorky middle aged pud in the back staring at the goods. He’s in as much pain as I am.

I’ve had a thing for pink lipstick ever since the Russian exchange student who wore it in my Freshman year “Intro to American History” class in highschool. Ah, Natasha. How I still long for that vodka flavored goodness.

The rouge red color on skinny chainboy, however, is a shade of lipstick I’m less familiar with. Unless L’Oreal is running a new “Douche For Men” product line.