Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Snoop Whitey White

Sippin’ on vodka and tonic…. laiiddd back… with his mind on his stock portfolio, and his stock portfolio on his mind…

The Kodak Moment

Sometimes you need to tell your girl you love her.

By giving her multicolored straws.

The Frosted Flake

Tony the Frosted Tips isn’t major ‘bag. But the low cut shirt and the outrageously perfect hott on his arm are enough to mock his ass repeatedly in spite of the average douche status.

It is my dream that the affable homies in the background will take one look at that frosted hair and trashcan his ass in the alleyway.

She, however, is Alba Hott by way of an Ukrainian orphanage.

I would hunt down influenza infected Caribou dressed as a space monkey just for the chance to play Gershwin tunes on a kuzoo outside her grandmother’s nursing home.

She plays racquetball dressed only in Victoria’s Secret.

And she does not sweat.

Pop Quiz

I, the reader of Hot Chicks with Douchebags, would like to smack this tool with:

A. A sock filled with camel poo
B. Donald Trump’s toupee dipped in soy sauce
C. A copy of the lost Eddie Murphy autobiography, From ‘The Next Richard Pryor’ to Norbit: How I set African-American Culture Back 50 Years with One Movie
D. A stern verbal lashing that makes extensive use of the words “douchuous,” “scrotorious,” and “Seacrest.” Followed by a Jean Claude Van Damme roundhouse to the face.
E. A massive class action lawsuit on behalf of culture, civilization, and shirt buttons everywhere.

Wednesday Limerick

There once was a stringbean with douche lips,
Who shaved his chin pubes into strips,
He hid his girl’s bras,
While saying to himself, “Bra…
her boobs will finally show off them nips.”

Quentin Tarantemo

Hence, like a douchebag.

HCwDB of the Week: Wally Playah

You probably could tell I tipped my hand yesterday when I posted Playah #2, that this was Wally’s week to shine. And by shine, I mean forehead.

The ever present anonymous makes the case for the Wally Playah Experience:

Wally’s hott, on the other hand, has the down home Midwestern look of a gal who’s just dusted off her boobies after a long hard winter, unpacked her stilletos and is planning on the first rental limo sex of the new year.

Combine this with Playa’s two-toned sneakers, greased ballsack forehead/chest double-whammy shine, and a look that makes me want to shove him into a garbage can and kick him into oncoming traffic… and we have a weener. I mean winner.

Well put, anon, and the garbage can shoving perfectly sums up the genetic reflex upon witnessing this wrongness.

dr makes another good point, focusing in on the “single button theory:”

The detail that puts him over the high bar of doucheatude is the single button done on his jacket. I imagine that he was previously unbuttoned there, to highlight his hairless and douchetastic chest. Buttoning up for the photog makes him even more horrible.

The button is the key, well observed, dr. Accomplished ‘bag hunter batou lays the smackdown even further:

Wally reminds me of vomit. A big festering pile of puke laying in a port-a-pot just after a 3-day outdoor music festival. Anyone who wears a blazer sans-anything underneath it should be executed by firing squad, no questions asked. I’d love to be the first to give him a swirly in the above nasty-pot just for “being himself”. Which is poo.

Well done, batou. When one of the regulars goes to the vomit metaphor, you know the douche factor is high.

Poor Zero didn’t find much attention, but longtime ‘bag hunter Amerigo Vesdouchey decided to lay into his college age lameness:

I’m voting for the Zero. He might not be the biggest ‘bag, but he represents probably the most commonly sighted ‘bag in the wild.

Plus, and, more importantly, his corruption of that previously untainted Peach is a saddening catastrophe. So that’s one for the zero. He can go to hell.

Agreeing for the Zero, no country for old douchebags brings the pain:

Zero is the winner.Just the sight of him hanging out with that angel of sunshine is just inherently wrong. It’s like killing a mocking bird with a chainsaw on Oprah while singing Michael Bolton songs.You don’t do it.

And longtime reader first time caller lyndon ladouche concurs:

My vote is for the Zero. She is so milky smooth, a dove with Bambi eyes, and he is coagulated diarrhea.

Indeed, L.laD. And with the Rehabber’s getting barely any love, it was Wally’s week to sheen. ferro94-dread pirate cash brings the Fast Times and Ridgemont for the final smackdown:

White sneaks.

Total douche.

So in honor of the late Heath Ledger, whose work as the Joker looks great, I dedicate this week of Wally Playah mocking.

Wally, we salute your innovative douchography, and we’ll see you in the Monthly.

Roger Douchetry

I can’t tell which one of Roger Douchetry’s songs I like the best, Won’t Get Douched Again, Baga O’Reilly or Boris the Scroter.

But I do know that I would make love time long time with each of these groupies with the swingin’ London 1960s sexual power of a young Michael York.

Yeah, baybee!! They are tasty.

Wally Playah II

Wally Playah reminds you to vote in the HCwDB of the Week contest by scrolling down (if you haven’t already).

By sticking out the sickly tongue.

And starring in the new internet viral video, “Two Straws, One Cup.”

Beach 'Baggin'

oooo oooo eeee oooo… Everybody’s Beach ‘Baggin’!!

Grab a Gidget, slap on that mandana, grow the chin fung, make the douche-face and twist the night away!! Cuz you’ll have fun, fun, fun, ’til your daddy takes the bodyspray away…

Not since the skeet surfing craze of the mid 1980s has a beach craze swept the nation like Beach ‘Baggin’.

So get on board, kid!! Long sleeve shirts and pants at the beach look grrreat!!