Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Thursday Haiku

Douche? Or just creepy?
With oh so teeth melt hottness,
so lets go with douche.

Wifebeater beckons
“Come to Jonestown; one of us!
“Mustn’t drink Tool-Aid…

— our fragile griecosystem

she looks like she’d talk
with sexy Russian accent.
jiggle my comrades.

— pfah

Euro douchebag takes
Pic of lovely chesticles
Babies gently weep.

— anonymous

Ansel Adams Douche
Narcissistic self portrait
His first nice funbags

— douche bigalow

Self-taken portrait
Eurodouche or Old ‘Bag? Hmm.
All I know is: BOOBS!

— scrotebob douchepants

Elton Jaun-dice Bag
This dude couldn’t score this Hott
Forty years ago

— anthony labaglia

Boatbags

Since the 4th is rapidly approaching, here’s a couple of boatbags proving the addage that one need not have douchey hand gestures, tatts and douche-faces to be at least a stage-1 scrotal toxic.

One need only have stupid sunglasses and chest shave.

Also, look for there “Where’s Walboobs?” as an added bonus.

Tiki the 'Bood

For Tiki the ‘Boodyshott, Tropical Island Douche-God from the ancient land of Delos, the acquisition of the town virgin took place on the dawn of every full moon.

In preparation for his journey, Tiki the ‘Bood would store walnuts and pfeffer seeds in a small pouch on his lower left side.

He journeyed far over lands dripped in the scent of Axe Bodyspray, perfumed plumages of douchal…

Okay, nevermind. I’m making no sense.

So lets wrap this one up by saying Blondie is hott and Tiki is poo.

Hey, whaddaya want. It’s the 4th tomorrow.

Lawnmower Man

Boy, Jamba Juice is finding some strange new ways to grow their wheatgrass.

Clay II

PIC DELETED

Lest there be any doubt as to Clay’s doucheyness, nor Clay Hott’s Hottness, lets put that to rest with a giant Hayao Miyazaki drawn horse-human drinking from a clear stream in a forest.

And yes, I’m aware that I’m stretching the already tenuous relevancy of anime references well past the point of breakage. But we’re coming up on the July 4th weekend, and your narrator, The DB1 has had a few too many fried oyster po’ boys already.

Clay

PIC DELETED

There’s something vaguely anime/manga about these two.

I can’t tell if it’s a rocker scrote pawing a bar hott somewhere in the South, or if four ambiguously Asian pre-pubescent samurai girls with large eyes are about to fly through the air, morph into robots, then attack a giant squid creature with phallic tentacles.

But Clay, word to the wise: pink lipstick is neither a little bit country, nor a little bit rock and roll. It is only skeeze.

EDIT: Reader Snoop Douchey Bagg makes the Jimbo Jones connection.

The Small Package Returned

HCwDB of the Week Winner, The Small Package returns, this time at what appears to be a Renaissance Fair for scrotebags.

Do you wanna know why his shirt is non-existent?

Hint: Because he’s a douche.

Blonde looks a little like a cross between Heidi Montag and Malcolm McDowell in Lindsay Anderson’s classic of British cinema, Oh Lucky Man!, but I don’t care, I would still tolchock her groody with my yabzick.

HCwDB of the Week: Droopy McScrote

From the moment this unholy mix of sagg and curve appeared on the site, readers knew they were seeing a Weekly Winner in action. As the everpresent anonymous explains it:

Droopy McScrote ftw, for keepin’ it real, AARP style. You just know he spent hours matching up his jewelry for maximum ‘bling’ effect, and that his undies say ‘love machine’ across the back.

But mostly its Surfer Kelly, ffs what a HOTT!! I’ve already written a 400-page cookbook, all of which involve her panties.

I believe I saw that Twilight Zone episode in which the cookbook really involves panties, anon. douchetoevsky elaborates further:

#1. Droopy. Just look at him. Soak it in. He is as magnificent a specimen of hot douche-mess as you will every witness. The longer you stare at his scroteal glory, the more you comprehend his complete douchial magnificence. He needs to be captured, isolated and studied for scientific research. Surfer Kelly needs to have her holographic panties spanked off her taught, tan, buttocks with a rubber spatula.

Well said, V.D. ‘bag lanta is even more succinct, and by succinct I mean boobies:

Droopy FTW. There is just so much wrongness in the photo, and so much hottness with Surfer Kelly, that I see no other choice.

And el duderino:

My vote is for Droopy. She is everything that is sweet and succulent in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. I’d drown myself in chocolate just to get the golden ticket to lick her snozzberries.As for droopy….top of the muffin…TO YOU!

Heh. Top of the muffin indeed.

But lets not forget Gunter and Klaus. ColinSm makes the case:

But G&K bring the PAIN…they are pros. On a pure “points” bases (a little orange, hand gesture, d-face, sunglasses worn indoors) they don’t measure up to the douche lexicon that is the Droop…but they are scrotes to the depth of their…I was gonna say “souls” but that can’t be right…Anyway, they elicit the rage before the ridicule and that’s true choaditudity.

And matt reminds us not to forget the horrid inspiditude of all that is the Preppiebags:

I have to vote for Preppiebags cos anyone who wears their sunglasses on croakies makes me feel stabby.

Indeed, matt. Preppiebags are toxic and we should not forget to pass some mock their way. But as sir douchey explains, this was Droopy’s day to sagg in a landslide:

Droopy McScrote gets my vote. I’m transfixed by the ass that is apparently growing out of his lower back. Two assholes = huge douche.

And she is delicious.

Yes. Yes she is. phlerbert continues:

Droopy for the weekly, the monthly, and damn if I don’t wanna pencil him in for the yearly. The Hott-Douche Dichotomy can get worse than this, but sadly, I fear that DB1 will prove me wrong.

If this pic featured a red plastic cup, this site would collapse in on itself by the sheer weight of this tableau’s perfection.

A URC would indeed bring calls from the Guggenheim to add Droopy to their permanent collection. And the choaderfield monster takes it home:

Droopy is an all-out assault on everything that is right and good. And somehow Everything That Is Right And Good has deigned to mash boobs with him. Worst of all, his ponderous bulk reminds me of my own flabby self. He is a funhouse mirror of scrote, reflecting a bizarro-self that gives me the shivers. And when a douche inspires rage AND psychological trauma, you know you have a powerful force on your hands. So Droopy McScrote wins my vote.

Well said, C.M. Where else can you find the perfect mix of douchey hand gestures, tatts, rings, bling, cargo pants and stretch marks, commingling with a bouncy Wish They All Could Be California Girl? Only here. At HCwDB.

Where we celebrate the Yin-Yang contradictions of hottie/douchey mixing as the key cultural violation that leads us to enlightenment.

Book a ticket for Droopy and Surfer Kelly in the next Monthly. They will be formidable.

Jaundice

Jaundice, also known as icterus (attributive adjective: “icteric”), is yellowish discoloration of the skin, sclerae (whites of the eyes) and mucous membranes caused by hyperdoucherubinemia (increased levels of Tag Bodyshots in the blood).

Typically, the concentration of scroterubin in the ballsack must exceed 1.5 mg dL [1], three times the usual value of approximately 0.5mg dL[1], for the coloration to be easily visible. Jaundice comes from the French word jaune, meaning The Greasy Jerz.

The Turd Cutter

The Turd Cutter isn’t a huge ‘bag. More like a stage 1-2 tweener. We’ll call him douche for the silly retro jeans, wrist somethings and general turd cutting expression. But I’m on the fence with him. Another pic with a less silly expression could earn him a nottadouche pass and a hearty handshake for his good work.

After all, it’s not like he’s The Gator Working Out (warning: Not Safe for Humanity)

But oh these hotnesses.

I would drink a mint julep hemlock just for the chance to be chased by angry goat herders through the Serengeti if it meant I could huff the toxins off blond’s used sneakers.

And I see you too, curvy leather pants Brunette. You can have the honor of smacking my bottom with a small plastic ladel, while I scream out “Klatu Barata Nikto!” and cry softly for my lost childhood panda-bear, “Boo.”