Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Tighty Armani

Here’s the Official “Dear Sweet Jebus, It’s Time to Start Drinking on Friday” pic.

Although I do enjoy four free-floating disembodied hand gestures, flailing around doe eyed blond hott as she’s mugged by Mani. It looks vaguely like a gallon of sea monkeys, floating in a basement in Bismarck, North Dakota.

Lucky

Somewhere, from the ashes of late 1970s wood paneling, hot tubs and disco, emerged the seeds that would become Lucky.

The child of formica kitchens and horrible sofa patterns.

The douched up aimless wanderings of Dazed and Confused: The Next Generation.

All while snagging a Marion in Raiders hott.

How’d you do it, Lucky? What’s the secret to your pale, hairless, disco chest?

American Booty

Mildly famous curvy butted Hollywood actress Mena Suvari is apparently now dating what people in the industry generally refer to as “shoe shmeg.”

This is the problem right here.

If celeb hotts can’t tell the difference between a human being and an underwear poking, smirked up, smack worthy uberdouche who looks like he should be asking for change outside the Gas n’ Go, then trickle down theory states that the rest of the InStyle consuming anonyhotts will follow lockstep.

Shame on you, Mena. You could be at my house. I have tasty Frosted Flakes. And Night Train. Unlimited Night Train.

h/t WWTDD.com

Friday Haiku

Soup dumplings so soft,
Railroad Head makes Buddha weep,
Pray for Kung Fu Monks.

When I said ‘roofie’
I didn’t mean make me look
Like I have shingles

— i drink your doucheshake

Nice parallel lines
Proving Euclid on your head
With pointy compass

— mr. white

lychee nut slurper
wants to ascend mount fuji
bo staff to chin stripes

— ‘bag lanta

you know it’s bad when
you take your fashion cues from
home depot paint swatch

— johnny scrotten

Yao comes to study
Shaves self, scores Hotts, becomes choad
Dad’s pissed: no more cash

— scrotebob douchepants

The Blowfish

Who knew that blowfish can move on dry land, dress up as douchenozzles, and take self portraits with digital cameras?

What’s next? Elephants painting?

Velveeta 'Bag in the Hall of Scrote

We held a vote a few weeks back for adding Velveeta ‘Bag to the Hall of Scrote, and while it was not unanimous, the Melted Cheese of American Cultural Blight has just barely made it in.

Most went back and forth on whether to admit entrance, as pro-douche status is usually a disqualifier for the elite hottie/douchey combos that make it to the top. But Velveeta has three very important factors.

1. He is very very ridiculously douchey
2. He hangs out with the cream of the hott
3. He’s a Sleestak.

So, pro or not, he’s in.

The votes were about 60%/40% in favor. As Rage Against the Douchine put it:

Big. Time. D. Bag. Must. Enshrine.

Agreeing was Scrotebob Douchepants:

My first consideration for the Hall is always multiple HCwDB appearances. With one showing, any ‘bag could prove to be a huge choad, but we can’t be sure he can sustain it. After numerous sightings, where the ‘baggery continues to out-do itself, then HoS must be considered.

Just say Yes – to the Hall of Scrote.

But there were objections, as this one from Mr White:

The perception of douche is surely subjective, with each of us applying our own metrics to judge how offended/appalled/disgusted we are by a given specimen. I think I look for undeserved cockiness, which is personified by the Peaches Point, the Gator Scowl, or the HJBBAD verbal diarrhea. And for me, Velveeta just isn’t giving off that vibe. A blank stare and some very, very questionable wardrobe choices, for sure, but no latent douche hostility.

But as all your douche are belong to us so succinctly puts it:

all his douche are belong to HoS

While the objections were strong, I think we’ll all come around to realize that this guy deserves his cheesic cheesitude immortalized.

Tomorrow, another nomination. There’s been a call to consider King Douchuous the IV, and so we’ll put it to a vote.

2001: A Space Douche

It’s like astronaut David Bowman from 2001: A Space Odyssey mated with a lime green Adolph Hitler.

I don’t know whether to mock his tatts and wristwatch or worry that he’s going to invade Poland as part of a master plan for a Thousand Year Douche. While searching for a large black monolith. A monolith with boobies.

Tooth Hurty

This pic reminds me of an old joke. No, not the one about herpes.

What time is it when you have to go see the dentist?

Tooth hurty.

Hello?… Is this thing on?

In Soviet Union, library checks you out… what a country.

The Velveteen Cold Sore

The Velveteen Cold Sore is a lesser known children’s folktale from 1890s northern Germany. Like other children’s tales of the period, The Young Girl Who Expressed Emotion and Was Butchered on a Slab and The Princess and The Sixteen Wolves who Took Sexual Advantage, times were definitely different in terms of imparting moral lessons to youth through parable. Those wacky late 19th century Germans.

As to the two suburban princesses, I would fly to the Comoros Islands and banter in Swahili to buy an ancient doll with magical powers that would conjure up a wacky series of impossible random events leading to my getting buried in a pit of quicksand with only their discarded mascara and a small Ukranian goat for comfort, just for the chance to sniff their discarded mascara.

But then I’d have to figure out what to do with that small Ukranian goat. I think I’ll name him Tim.

Reader Mail: Finland

In the ever increasing list of countries suffering from the global douche plague comes this email and pic, all the way from Finland:

—-
Dear DB1,

Finnbag
—-

Something tells me if this guy had a million dollars, he’d do two chicks at the same time.