Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Sliced Peaches

Q: What has a prominent index finger and a sloping brow and looks like he might run away with the HCwDB of the Week contest?

A: THIS GUY!!

Where's Waldouche: Taint-Licker Edition

Somewhere, buried within this pic of table hotties, I’ve carefully hidden a Waldouche pulling the ultra rare combo Shocker/Lick ‘bag hand gesture.

Rare indeed is the douchitude of the Waldouche pulling this move. In fact some used to believe this combo hand/face douche move was only the stuff of legend. Urban folklore handed down through poetic song, mother to child, generation to generation, under cover of night. Myth.

And yet here is photographic evidence. It can be done. Oh yes. It can be done.

Can you find him?

Lockjaw

PIC DELETED

Lockjaw knows what the ladies like.

Lockjaw knows that the ladies need.

They need the Lockjaw.

Toto

Dorothy Hottie in the red, tell Toto he’s not in Scrotesas anymore. Oh wait, yes he is.

I would swim through boobie waters with six munchkins, a tin man and a yellow brick scroad.

The Fruit Stripe Zebra

Before I turned 13 and the female form permanently damaged all higher cognitive function in my brain, I was obsessed with Fruit Stripe Gum. I used to love the stripey patterns on the sticks and the ultra fruity sugar rush. Even as they completely lost flavor and turned into a pasty wax substance after six seconds of chewing. I also loved the cartoon zebra on the package.

Tasty Fruit Stripe Hottie in the middle seems to have acquired the Zebra from the packaging on the right. On the left it’s either Mike or Ike. Or perhaps Jolly Joe. Or that black shmutz stuck to my shoe.

These three are apparently a band, and their music may be good or bad, I don’t know. But I do know Fruit Stripe when I see it. And I would grape her cherrys. Oh yes. And I think you know what I mean by that. Because it’s a highly complex euphemism. For coitus.

HCwDB of the Week: NYC Edition

There’s so much to hold this week’s contest in honor of. Our impending July 4th celebration. The city of New York, home of the Corner Bistro Burger, Tomoe Sushi and Joe’s Pizza, as well as the finest selection of Classy Hott this side of a Robert Palmer video. Or simply the DB1’s weekend of debaucharism, PBRs and hitting on exs with rousing success.

I could discuss my observations of various Hottie/Douchey yuppie couplings I witnessed in Central Park on Saturday. Or the wankscrotes who seem to have taken over the East Village with popped collar Ralph Lauren garbagosity. Or the gaggle of four 19 year old smokingly luscious Latinas with the teeth meltingly perfect legs that fired up the DB1’s Plato’s Retreatean fantasies on the A train on Sunday.

Or we could just get to this week’s contest. And it ain’t an easy one, my friends. Not easy at all.

So take a breath. Clear your mind of all work obstacles or impending thoughts of your mid-week break. I need you. The ‘bags need you. The hotties need you. Three enter. Only one can triumph. Here are your choices:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Stereo douchetonic

What more can be said about a choice double dip in the DNA clouded waters of the douche pool than tripping the light fantastic with these two choadbaggers sandwiching Sweet Polly Purebread?

And if that last sentence barely made sense, you should hear me try to talk after I’ve boiled up the Stereo Lobsters for dinner and cuddled in the warm, loving embrace of Volley Ball Playing Hott’s collection of Care Bears.

She is delightfully pure and innocent. Sweet and wholesome. In frozen pixaleted perfection, she is smeared on both sides by uber-douchosity.

The rage factor is high in this one. And as we know, the ultimate litmus test, more than any checklist or corporeal manifestation, is the affect of rage created by hottie/douchey juxtaposition. This one’s a worthy finalist indeed.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Peaches

Peaches is a great example of essence du douche or what I like to call The ‘Bag Within.

He lacks the excessive bling of The Scrote Warrior, nor even the douche-glasses of the Stereo Twins. In fact other than the iced up forehead, Blue Steel look and sloping simian brow, he’s your average stubbled up club scrote.

And yet, as with The Douche Twins, the psychoanalytic affect transcends any inherent meaning created simply by the list of douchuous attributes. As Derrida argues, one can not simply ground a science in taxonomy. One must also engage the affect. The psychoanalytic.

To paraphrase Derrida, the Douche Factor.

As you stare at a luscious blonde wearing the shiver inducing backless dress in which her blond curls tumble down like water trickling over rocks, ask yourself this:

What meaning does the affect of this pic create within you? And is it greater or less than the other two candidates?

Following this impulse, as well as any list of douche-categories, will serve you well when voting.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Choad Warrior

Producer of our first Epic Poem, the Choad Warrior would seem to have all the attributes of a Weekly Victor. With the scrote powers of a mystical hunter from the Winnebago Tribe, The Choad Warrior is a treasures trove of douchey attributes.

The tats. The mini faux hawk. The Mega Man glasses. The bling. Those low riding DG jeans that make me want to slam my head through the plate glass window at Sears.

And his ultra hot, if skinny, sex goddess companion with the pink g-string poking out as if to say, “Helloooo DB1! Hellloooo!”

Normally, Choad Warrior would overwhelm the HCwDB Weekly, but again we must ask if the potential for his “professional” state, his either DJ or promotional status, decreases what Derrida or Barthes would describe as our affected state of consumption. How do these factors alter the relationship between subject and object?

Like many of the annoying DJ types who seem to have all the attributes of an elevated douchey transcendence, does the professional state ultimately compromise the authentic experience of the true douche/hot?

I’m looking at all of you lurkers out there. Time to step up to the Scrote and take a swing. To render judgment.

Do the Stereo Douche Twins overwhelm? Or does the Choad Warrior and his hottie companion reign supreme? Or is it Peaches and Cream who trip the rage factor into overdrive?

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Jeopardy

I’ll take “BeastieBags” for $1,000, Alex.

Frat Life

I don’t know if these two Freshman Fratchoads count as ‘bags on any real level, but I just wanted to say to all the young hotties reading this: The slinky low cut one piece dresses? Tutto buono.

NYC is crawling with Bridge and Tunnel JerseyBags, but no signs of Joey Porsche yet. I’ll keep looking.

Kaboom

I always wondered what Robert Poppenheimer discovered when researching douchelear physics as part of The Miami Project in the 1940s.

Now, for the first time, we have photographic evidence of the test research performed by that top-secret government research facility.

Yikes.

I would, however, breakdance to El DeBarge in tribute to Tiny Hott’s slender form. Yes, I’d even do the worm.