Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Belgian Waffle

Detlef writes in from Belgium:

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Hail douchebag 1,

Greetings!
– Detlef
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Ah yes, the classic Eurodouche. The Nordic Scrote. The Aryanbag.

I haven’t seen a chin that square since Udo Kier in Andy Warhol’s Blood for Dracula.

Teddy Troll Doll

Once is an event. Twice could be a coincedence. But this many times?

We’re in full blown trend.

I speak not of the dumbass douche-friend encroaching on the pic whilea scrote is in mid pose, but of the Middle Finger ‘Bag Hand Gesture.

For Teddy Troll Doll, the Ed Hardy Double Shirt, the bling and the spikey blowout only compliment his rosy red cherubic cheeks that have the scrotey glow of the lightly slapped.

But it is Teddy’s ability to mug Michelle without even a glance down at the Holy Cleavite that takes him to the next level of douche-pose.

Michelle’s complimentary ‘Baguette Hand Gesture is tragic, but understandable. That much exposure to stage-4 Toxicity, and even the strongest hott will succumb to douchescrotery.

Cleanup Aisle Five

Someone spilled some Bodyspray.

HCwDB of the Week

It was a moderate week for hottie/douchey toxicity last week. Between the Fung Debates and Fish Slap’s Nipple showing up to haunt our collective zeitgeist, our selection of new pics was lessened. But three solid hottie/douchey finalists have emerged, and here they is:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Douche Zak

There’s a sneaky fungal quality to Zak’s scrotewankery. His disarming smile and wee man status may throw you off at first.

But note the blingin’ earring and necklace. The sideburn giving way to a second, chinstrap facial hair configuration drawn thinner than a storyline in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

And let us not forget Dutch Windmill’s Klogs of Copenehagen perfection.

I would discuss the Uncertainty Principle with Heisenberg and Bohr while we watched the canal boats drift languidly by the Scheepswerf Bierenbroodspot.

And then I would hump Camilla’s kneecaps like a cracked up anteater after rainy season.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: He Rides the Short Boat

The Short Boat may be your standard issue G.R.E test taking DeVry class of 2011 engineering major.

But to pull four uberhotts while making standard Boatbag Tongue Gesture #12 deserve finalist status.

True, Short Bus doesn’t inspire rage the way many other douchewanks do.

But there’s enough to annoy. At least mildly.

Still, the hotts may have to carry Short Bus to victory, as the vague “I’d like to push him overboard” urge is only moderate. Stage 2.

Maybe, stage 3 now that I look at it a bit longer.

Because those Bramble Tatts are douchetatt wrong like a smack to the butt of a Nun named Catherine.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Sad Clown

There’s a certain genius toxicity to this hottie/douchey combination that defies explanation.

What forces brought an eyeliner wearing member of Ringling Bros. Barnum and Douchey Circus into the willing embrace of a pearly white Southern Peach of Banana Milkshake Ice Cream Holy Boobie Pie Daughter of a Southern Pentacostal and Hates Her Father Hottie?

I do not know. But the Sad Clown knows.

And wonders if his starring performance in Jerry Lewis’s The Day The Clown Cried will ever get released on DVD.

Probably not, Sad Clown. I hear it was pretty offensive.

(Dis)honorable mention to Pooper McGee,Don, and Carlos Finds Love, all of whom just missed the Finals.

But them’s your three. Three enter, but only one may crown itself “HCwDB of the Week” and earn the final slot in next week’s Monthly.

Which’ll it be? That’s up to you.

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Sunday Musings: The Hoverbag

On this lazy Sunday, let us pay testament to one of the abstract categories we find on the douchological spectrum.

I speak, of course, of the Hoverbag.

As detailed in my book, The Hoverbag is an otherwise innocent shmoe who achieves douche status simply for ruining the frame.

Unlike most categories of hottie/douchey commingling, Hoverbags often would achieve a nottadouche pass if they were simply on their own.

Hoverbags are frequently met with off-screen cries of “Get out of the frame, douche!” and “Move, dumbass!”

I dub this Hoverbag, Sam.

He Rides the Short Boat

It is a sad, sad moment for those who claim cultural progression when we collectively realize that a barely literate boatdouche with bramble tatts is sitting on a boat with four of the most sparkling examples of crystalline femininity this side of a naughty librarian convention.

These four bouncing beauties of boobie hottie suckle thigh are so hot, they reject death as a trope. They inspire angels to rend fabric and cry out in tongues. Their butts do not poo, they produce buttery cocoa cremes gift-wrapped in glittery sparkle paper.

Fraubags und Fraulein

Hail, hail East Germany / Land of fruit and grape / Land where you’ll regret / If you try to escape / No matter if you tunnel under or take a running jump at the wall / Forget it, the guards will kill you, if the electrified fence doesn’t first.

Friday Thoughts and Links

BREAKING: Natalie Portman no longer Dating a Yeti.

Ah, Natalie. My tiny bottled brand name water of hott. My little jello shot of perfectly formed Librarian Glasses Wearing Brunette. I would put thee over my knee and softly paddle thy upper thigh area with my collection of vintage Hot Wheels cars until you asked me why I was using words like “thee” and “thy.”

And I’d stop, and apologize, and get you a Mr. Pibb from the kitchen.

Come to me, Natalie. I will regale you with made-up stories about my adventures on the high seas battling pirates and whales, and then we’d make out while watching Mad Men.

Speaking of Semitic Hotts, Sarah Silverman may be quirky and odd, but she still Gefiltes My Fish. Now that she’s dumped Jimmy Kimmel’s ginormous melonhead, I’ll add her to the list of those who will find their inner thighs softly paddled by vintage Hot Wheels cars.

Congrats to our newest enshrinement in the hallowed Hall of Scrote Fung, listed below his earlier formulation as a Prompa. And congrats to HCwDB of the Week winner, I Say, Old Chap, who will fill in admirably in the Monthly.

As of this morning, the Hot Chicks with Douchebags book was #10 on Amazon’s “Literary Theory” bestseller list, directly between Walter Benjamin’s “Reflections” and a book on philosopher Giordano Bruno. My life is complete.

And lets not forget The Slim Trim Razor, for that perfectly coiffed douche-face.

Los Angeles smells like burnt umber. But it’s sunny. And everyone’s happy. So who am I to complain.

The Ass and I part 2: Spectacle and Representation

When last we studied The Ass and I, we considered Feynman’s theory that all of matter consists of a single electron, traveling backwards and forwards through time to form everything. Which would mean therefore that we are not simply staring at an ass. That ass is us.

For this pic, let us turn to Guy Debord and his discussion of the spectacle in the age of post-modernity:

In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into a representation.

From Debord’s perspective, that ass is both ass and representation of ass. It is ass as spectacle and ass as signification of previous ass spectacle, ass infinitum.

Richie's Night Out

Richie’s going for the exotic/classy thing, taking Kimmy and Kelly to the new Indian restaurant that opened downtown. I get that.

But chest shave + talisman necklace + six opened buttons? And a crescendo hair fauxhawk?

Sorry Rich, we have to tag you ‘bag. Stage-2 Suburbanbag.

I would bribe a small Bedouin boy with rice and mead to steal Susan’s cocktail glass while she’s in the bathroom just so I could rush home and awkwardly fondle it while listening to old Fats Waller records.