Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Excuse Me Waiter, There's a Herp in My Salad

I’d send it back, Carolyn.

And switch restaurants.

HCwDB of the Week

Okay, I received a bunch of emails demanding a Weekly this week, even though I wasn’t gonna do it. You’re right. Rain or shine, the site needs it’s Weekly. Even if these pics aren’t uberdouchey, they must be processed.

So I hopped in the shower, scrubbed off the residual Doritos residue left on me from last night’s festivities, and here are your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Popeye the Scroter Man

For classic douchewank, Popeye gets his shot.

Super-tight Ed Hardy tee.

Double muscle plus cig move.

Blocking a lineup of five quite tasty ladies of the suckle thigh?

For shame, Popeye.

Douche Kills.

Tall blonde on the right would crush my inner thigh with her power boots. And I would take it like a whimpering boy.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Chia Hawk

Chia Hawk makes splash?

Chia Hawk finds love.

Busting the dog tags, the actual mo’ (so gelled, even poolwater can’t make it go limp), the chin pubes, and most importantly…

The Dual Middle Finger.

Skinny Carmacita is a little too chiquita skinny for maximum hottage, but picture #2 definitely places her in the good to go category.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Tattoo

Gaybaggrery? Not so fast.

As you know, I tend to dismiss Gaybags from the conversation not because gaybags can’t be douchebags, they of course can, but because since they pose no threat to the hott’s suckle thigh, they simply do not bother me.

That being said, Tattoo is simply echoing gayscrotery for the purposes of boobwankery.

And that last sentence was Hemingway quality. Thank you. Thank you for your linguistic accolades.

And don’t forget the great Tom Petty lyric, a Tattoo two.

So them’s your three.

Which combo of hottie and boobie and choady and chin pude most deserves our collective mock?

Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.

Tony the Tilter

Last week really didn’t have enough superior hottie/douchey scrotiffery to warrant an HCwDB of the Week, so your scruffy narrator’s gonna skip this week’s contest, and instead, move us straight to the choad mocking and boob lusting.

Instead, here’s a picture of advanced hat tilter, Tony, demonstrating that uberscrotebaggery can often only be marked by one clear sign.

Note that Tony has no other douchetributes. No bling. No collar pop. No facial pubes.

Just a hat that is tilting in four dimensions. This is the Ph.D. of Hat-Tiltery. Do not try this at home.

And, of course, let us celebrate the two pouty brunettes who want me to water their plants while they’re backpacking through Europe for the summer. Which I would, after only minimal protest. And I would cancel my own vacation plans to do so.

For they are peanut butter, peanut butter, jelly. On rye. With a Fresca.

“Puke In My Mouth”

The hotts respond to Lonely Island’s Jizz in my Pants.

Expulsive fluids, shifting gender subjectivity and cultural critique. It’s a war between the hotts and douchebags and we are at the epicenter, fellow ‘bag hunters.

Between this and the genius of the Vince Slap Chop Remix it’s a transmedial battle of the textually reappropriated meta-snark.

"Puke In My Mouth"

The hotts respond to Lonely Island’s Jizz in my Pants.

Expulsive fluids, shifting gender subjectivity and cultural critique. It’s a war between the hotts and douchebags and we are at the epicenter, fellow ‘bag hunters.

Between this and the genius of the Vince Slap Chop Remix it’s a transmedial battle of the textually reappropriated meta-snark.

Friday Thoughts and Links

And my original Friday Thoughts and Links, as written earlier:

On this pensive Pink Xenu Friday, I contemplate the joys of rubbing the Boobie Suckle Thigh’s Suckle Thigh softly.

It feels like warm pecan pie. I want to bite it.

And for that, I give thanks to an angry and vengeful God by sacrificing a Peeps.

Here’s your Friday Links:

HCwDB of the Month winning British model fondling uberdouche, Crimson Ted, gets the “Face” treatment over at Break.com.

When the hot chick and douchebag merge in a singularity of suck, we get: Douchebaguette.

Sign #243 of the coming Scrotocalpyse, Ed Hardy now makes Vodka. There truly is no hope.

He’s in New Jersey, Bitch.

Steve Porter’s Slap Chop Remix is sheer genius. The Breakin’ footage transforms this from merely inspired into the art of the sublime.

Enjoy the psychadelic brilliance that is The Cult of Kade’s Nostrils. And I’m seriously thinking about attending Kade Bash ’09 on June 20th.

And finally, for all of your hard work this week, you’ve earned it. Your Friday Ass Pear.

Tattoo Likes to Party

EDIT: Looks like this finally published, from earlier today:

I’d almost be inclined to give a nottadouche pass to the short guy who uses the hair spike to make himself taller in presence of the Boobie Hottie Suckle Thigh.

But neckdana? Ridiculous glasses? “Party” t-shirt?

Sorry, Tattoo. No forgiveness. You get a stage-2 Vegas Douche, even if you did sniff out an Ass Pear.

Mmmm. Noelle. You are clumsy and awkward, and your modeling career has only led to skeezy guys hitting on you in sketchy one-room offices in Queens. But I still respect you for your mind.

Bud

Dear Bud,

Fratbaggery at the Sorority Mixer will still not get you any action with the Lei Sisters.

Because your sunglasses look like monkey pee and your head counfounds archeologists.

Sincerely,
– DB1

Friday Haiku

Robocop Chin says,
“I grip my glass top down, bro.”
Kate grins, but fake grin.

K-Mart sunglasses,
Mandana, 3-D t-shirt —
Headlocked hott wants out!

— I am Jack’s photophobic eyes

Yellow glasses blind
Kate to his scrotewankery
Wake up, girl and RUN!
— JoMama

Grrr-animal shirt
Makes him big douche at party
Liger on the back

— Bag A

3-D t-shirt is
giving me a migraine
want to kick his chin

— Anonymous

Three D sleeveless T
sleeve fairy got him badly
brunette looks frightened

C-baggin