Rat Chin
PIC DELETED
What’s with the rat chin on Vanilla Mice here? It’s been cropping up all across the douchological spectrum of late. Like a mutant virus. Or early 90s Porn Star crotch. Or chin herps.
10 Degree Hat Tilt (with sticker) features ‘bag hand gesture with requisite finger bling on the left, and, oh yeah, the douche-face.
And please, dear god no, is that a Scarface t-shirt? Where’s Crazy Eyes with the LCD screen on the ceiling when you need him?
Racing Car Hott makes me happy to be in Georgia. Just so long as I don’t venture outside of Atlanta, I should be okay.
Old Red
So your humble narrator in all things boobie/bone-zone sits here on a Tuesday and scratches himself. For I face a conundrum.
Do I run a new Prompa prom pic I just received, which sadly features no hotties and therefore ventures outside the M.O. of the site? Or a tasteful new pic of the late, great Pumpy, or is that in bad taste?
Decisions, decisions.
A special thanks to anyone and everyone who has been sending me pics for the site. If I don’t respond, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I drink too much and my feet smell like a Peruvian hooker named “Chiquita.”
If you have a brilliant photo of a pretty young thing with a heaping serving of scrote, cuddling or otherwise commingling in a sickeningly wrong way, send it along at a reasonably small file size (but reasonably large pic size) to douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com. Or if just want to say “‘Bags suck, but hotties are pounce worthy,” drop me a line.
And in the meantime, enjoy Old Red. Yeah I know he’s not old, but the name just seemed to fit.
Batbag
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na, BATBAG!!
The Leprechaun
Check out Leprechaun ‘Bag, touching the inner thigh of his hott with the possessive insecurity of a cornered doberman.
Don’t growl at me, Leprechaun ‘Bag.
My attempts to enjoy Long Island Iced Tea Hott are hampered by my fixation on your Ten Degree Hat Tilt (TDHT).
And the fact that no matter how tough you pose, Leprechaun ‘Bag, you’re still letting her use your lap as a side table for her purse.
A "doozer of Sober Busters"?
Frathunter writes in:
——
First and foremost, love the site.
2nd of all not only do I have a douche for ya, but he’s the douchiest of the douche. He works for our company and at first seemed like a nice guy, which I suppose he still is. but that’s neither here nor there.
After a long night of drinking and playing poker (introducing him to my blue collar buds) his first night here… he began to reveal the douche underneath… the Truth Douche.
I am not making any of this up… here’s a sample of quotes:
He got up to grab us a few beers while playing poker and shouted: “Who’s in for a Brain Grenade?” Of which I asked him what the hell is that? “You know, a Frat Soda!” I said a beer? I’ll take one.. my friend said I will also have one… to which he shouted: “I got a doozer” (2 I’m still guessing here) of some “Sober Busters.”
We didn’t let him speak for the rest of the night. I have sent along a few shots (that I will need to send in a couple of emails thanks to our awesome firewall here at wk).
I also would like to add that he always mentions taking girls to the “Bone Zone.”
—–
You had me at a “doozer of sober busters” but the “bone zone” takes this whole thing to the next level of genius. If a “doozer of sober busters” isn’t accepted in the 2012 Revised Webster’s Dictionary, then I’m not doing my job properly.
Stamp this brain grenade and frat soda drinking choad one of the first official SlangBags we’ve featured on the site.
Mainly because most of these pics can’t talk. Which is probably a good thing.
Captain Jack Spackle
Arrr, avast there, bro!! It’s talk like a douche-pirate day!!
Shiver me Timbaland!! Arr!!
Ahoy!! Tell me how ye like my mandana, matey??
Avast, I’m loaded to the gunwales with douchey tribal tatts, arr!!
Yo-ho-ho, and a Bottle of Grey Goose!!
ahem
Sorry. I’m over it now.
K Hottie Checks In
‘Bag hunter extraordinaire and sexy blond minx, K Hottie, checks in with another capture story:
—-
DB1 –
I am out in L.A. visiting a friend and we went to Opera on Friday night . . . during “fashion week”. We asked a random guy to take a picture of us and he said that his only condition was that his friend had to be in the pic with us. We tolerated his request . . . and then we saw his friend.
Oh my God.
Any other girl would have been mortified and neverminded his ass, but not K Hottie. Under my repulsion, I was jumping for joy at the chance to deliver another smashing photo for your viewing pleasure.
The capture story is great and includes him telling me all about his work in the fashion industry, but I don’t have time to sit down and write it out. I would like to point out the string around his head, the pleather pants, clearly the ampersand shirt, and just the overwhelming essence of douche. I can’t wait to see what name he gets!
—–
A name for this guy? How’s Southern Scumfort? Although in the grand scheme of the douchological arts, he’s really not that bad.
Except there’s that white belt again.
Is the white belt the new Ubiquitous Red Cup? The key signifier of douchebaggery presence in a scrote?
The Armpit of America
Uhm, honey, when they say Jersey is the armpit of America, they don’t mean that literally.
But there’s that white belt again.
Was there a sale at Loehmanns last month?
HCwDB of the Week: Taco Bell Edition
So I’m watching football yesterday, and that Taco Bell ad comes on with the annoying fauxhawk hipsters offering up witty Madison Ave focus tested repartee about the super coolness of chili con carne. Older Madison Ave created “cool guy” lectures younger Madison Ave created “cool guy” about the proper way to spread the chili on the chips.
Because nothing’s quite so tasty as processed rat meat on a taco shell that was probably made by 9 year olds in giant gothic Taco Bell slave factories somewhere off the coast of Baja.
So anyways, the ad. One ad executive created hipster douchebag turns to the other and says, “Always, ALWAYS, put chili on your con carne.”
And I’m thinking to myself, are they subtly ripping off, or paying some sick demented homage to Alec Baldwin’s brilliant monologue in Glengarry Glen Ross? Some last, desperate attempt by a hack copywriter to pay tribute to brilliant writing and feel less awful about his lot in life? In the middle of a freaking Taco Bell ad?
I turn it over to the late, great genius, Bill Hicks.
We miss you, Bill. I couldn’t have said it any better than that.
On to the finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Queen Bee and the Power Chord
There’s a certain everyday rot taking place in this pic. That retro musician dude stuck in the early 1980s who still somehow manages to score the superhot sister of your best friend.
I’m looking at you, Hannah.
You flirted with me all through high school. Let me see you change by the pool and pretended you didn’t know I was there. You even made out with me at your brother’s party on Senior Skip Day.
Then you went off to Michigan State and two years later you came home with Power Chord douchebag. That mid 30s Ron Johnson who works at the stereo store at the Mall and drives a Camaro.
The dude who doesn’t care whether she comes, stays, lays or prays, whatever happens, his toes are still tappin’.
For bringing up that memory alone, crossbred as it was in my confused subconscious with Fast Times at Ridgemont High dialog, The Queen Bee of Hott and her Power Chord of suck are a worthy finalist.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Douche or Dali
I appreciate any hottie/douche pic that vaguely resembles mid century surrealist art.
Although Peroxide Blondie is a bit too “enhanced” for my tastes, her Daisy Duke hottness still resonates.
Then there’s 84 Degree Hat Tilt. Who looks vaguely anime. Or a rejected character design for Disney’s “The Fox and the Scrote.”
And then the shirtlessness, continuing its rampage across our culture like a swarm of killer bees.
All bad.
Very, very bad.
Make it stop. Please, won’t someone make it stop.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Tony With the Car Dealership
There’s a certain extra something lurking in this pic that just prevented me from not including it in the Weekly.
I think it’s Tony.
But it could also be sweet perky Katie Hottie, with the sinful body that she probably hasn’t remotely figured out how to use.
Like a Ferrari being driven by a 89 year old great grandmother named Claire.
Some hotties have the car, they just haven’t figured out how to drive stick yet.
Or are my entendres getting just a bit too silly?
Oh, and Tony?
Shoulderpads. Are douche.
I don’t know whether you should win HCwDB of the Week or donate those pads to help Cuban illegals sail across the Gulf of Mexico.
So them’s your three.
In the grand tradition of Taco Bell, I put it to you like a case of the runs. Which of these three is worthy of Weekly status? Car Dealer Tony and his Sweet Cutie? Queen Bee and her Power Chord? Or the surreal Douche or Dali posse?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Actorbags
It’s Sunday, and The DB1 is hungover from last night’s carousing attempts to save the hotties of greater Los Angeles from pollution by endless stubbly actorbags.
Sure they might not have any visible means of employment. Or evidence of actual talent. Or a car.
But dammit if they aren’t one of the DeVry Technical Institute’s featured alumni in this month’s newsletter.
And check out their prominent headshot in between Ensign Harper from Enterprise and Suitcase Opener #22 on Deal Or No Deal featured on the “Wall of Fame” at the Celebrity Cleaners on Hillhurst.
They’re so damn charming, ladies. I understand. Simply overlook the herps sore and pound another Lemon Drop.
Here’s to you, Seal ‘bag with the abs and tongue disease. And here’s to you, Stephen Baldwin Douche Face. May your audition for “Featured Audience Member” for the pilot of “Boy Meets World: Miami” go swimmingly.
Because it may be Goofy, but at least it’s Disney, right?
