Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Honorary Douchebag of the Month: The Carnival Barker

In honor of this unholy asswipe remaining on my teevee, I thought I’d repost this Reader Mail question, in its entirety, from it’s original appearance on November 24th, 2009:

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Hey db1,

– Scrotald McDoteald
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1980s Trump is definitely one of the Choadal Founding Fathers of the modern ‘bag plague. His garish excesses and narcissistic self-absorption led to the modern club going puds we see attempting to “live large” today.

Trump is a founder of the religion of consumptive narcissism. His soul is as hollow as his hotels are empty. Sure we can make fun of the hair. But even hairless, Trump combs over his psyche to hide the crisis of empathetic absence that rots underneath.

Mister Tie Fighter

What’s the one way to get the hottest retro bombshell at the Kappa Kappa Woo sorority to pose for pic before the summer formal?

You guessed it.

Skinny Tie.

Okay, so maybe Mister Tie Fighter, aka Bantha Fodder, is only a stage-1, maybe a stage-2 hipsterpud.

But it’s early. And I gotta thing for Fawcett hair.

Anagram Hipsterbag Henry’s Tatt

I’ve got: “Realpolitik Viva La France!”

And no, Pamela is no better than Hipsterbag Henry. A douche made in Heaven.

Sharon Tugs Her Skirt, Gerry Tucks his Cig

I’m not sure what’s going on in this pic. We have fine taut female boobie hottie suckle thigh mixed with ducklips.

We’ve got fauxhawk and cig-ear on Gerry, both stage 2 violations.

We’ve got pleather 80s jacket and zombie dance pose.

Meanwhile, Stockbroker Morty chills in the back and sips a Heineken.

I’m confused. Time to microwave a burrito and chew things over.

Tyler Perry’s “Madea Goes to Vegas”

Wait’ll Spike Lee hears about this one.

Bowser the Beachsnake

It’s like those old Frankie Avalon/Annette Funacello beach blanket movies from the 1950s.

Only with less twist dancing and more Valtrex.

Annette Hippie Hott sucks on her lollipop with what Freud calls an oral fixation due to trauma during the oral stage.

In a strange coincidence, Oral Stage was also the name of the first Mormon to set foot in the Adirondacks.

Ned Wilson Likes the Boobies

Ned Wilson, the lost Wilson brother of the once famous but rapidly descending into pimping cell phones acting family, really, really likes the boobies.

And while Ned Wilson’s really not all that douchey, and probably deserves a nottadouche, Belinda’s perfect Holy Cleavite and yet douchey expression offers such a prime example of the Douchadox, I had to run the pic.

That and I’m already sugar highed out on pixie sticks and pop rocks. Stupid half price sale at Jack’s.

Razorpud

Razorpud may represent all that is aging, castrated and market coopted about the last vestiges of 80s punk aesthetic.

But, more due to happenstance than plan, Razorpud’s embrace of Melanie does offer us a hallowed glimpse of The Holy Hottie Back Arch.

And we must appreciate. For it is firm, flexible, supple arch and gummy gnaw slappy pinch.

Stackhouse The Poet Is Not Impressed

2010 Douchebag of the Year, Stackhouse The Poet, laughs at the aspiring douchery of Pukey Bowie.

Only the chosen few can mack on Tiny Sally by a trash pile while shirtless and busting D&G douche belt.

Because only the chosen few can rise (fall) to the lofty pudwankery and gradual descent into semi-employed bloat by the mid 30s that is The Stack.

EDIT: Stackhouse free associates.

HCwDB of the Week: Pukey Bowie and Hott Jenn

There were Bropecs and Scarf Fail. Strapperface and Ziggy the Sneery Mug Guy. There was even Granpa Chin.

But none of the past two weeks of Hottie/Douchey cohabit quite made me spit on a nun and bitch slap a penguin quite like Pukey Bowie, he of the rocker douche genus, and Hott Jenn’s giggley giggles.

Not even the closest runners up (and likely 2011 Douche Award nominee in something), the rank Captain Lubing and perfect Tracey Gnaw.

With a two week backlog to go through, as last week was the Monthly, it came down to which douche was most punchworthy in presence of tasty hott.

And Pukey Bowie, with his rockerbag assrankery, his everything that pisses you off in the post college years, combining with tasty curvy Hott Jenn, was just too much piddle out the rear of a poodle.

So while it’s an early Monday morn, and your humble narrator is stumbling around his living room trying to remember how to make coffee, even with a sweet new Keurig machine, this is an award well deserved.

Mark the Puker Bowie and Hott Jenn as the first and well deserved entrant in the next HCwDB of the Month.

And the DB1 for Cocoa Puffs.