Supafly
Somewhere, buried deep under all that hair gel, under those large douche sunglasses and behind that giant swath of mandana, lies a young innocent boy who just wants to dance.
Pink Lip Gloss is rightly making a comeback. And none too soon.
It looks good on her, too.
Watergunned the Clown
Blue Hott has that sexy retro hottie hair sweeping side comb thing working. The Mia Sara from Ferris Bueller dirrtty hair swoop that fueled so many childhood fantasies. It makes me want to gnaw off my middle toes and go Kayaking naked on a river of angry piranhas.
Oh yeah. And the uberschlort.
Nothing screams “pudwhack” like the combo unbuttoned shirt and sweat stain look. The last time I saw a mug that stuffed was when I watergunned the clown all the way to the top at Six Flags.
Heh. “Watergunned the Clown.” Wasn’t that an album by Pantera?
Cuisinart Carl
I’m having a hard time classifying the douche-face on Cuisinart Carl here.
Are those kissy lips? Or a vaguer and harder to classify stage of douche-mouth? And does that expression make me want to smack him in the face with a dead frog in a sock, or a pile of camel poo in a plastic bag?
And would it be wrong of me to woo Princess Red with giftwrapped Twinkies and hiding out by her bathroom window at 2am after spelling out “I want to lick your shoes” in flaming bales of hay in the nearby cornfield?
The Mark of the 'Bag
Among the many giveaways, “tells” if you will, of the douchebaguous presence of douchebaggery in the douchebag with hottie, there are the obvious ones.
The bling. The hat tilt. The douche face.
And then there’s the theological stamp. The place where a divine spirit comes down and sears “douche” on the forehead of a choadwank.
We find this presence of mystical sign in the reflection of male genitalia on the ‘bag’s forehead. The “shlong-in-balls shine,” or what advanced ‘bagologists call “The Mark of the ‘Bag.” Note it’s formation in the forehead sheen of Fratboy Francis here.
Oh sure, his shirtlessness and printing error Chinese tattoo randomness call into question why lovely Talking Tina would embrace his oilyness. But it’s The Mark of the ‘Bag that stamps scrote. And makes my bowl of Cocoa Puffs taste slightly sour.
Corned Beef
Regular ‘bag sandwich formation (douche-hott-douche), I can understand. The innocent hottie of doe eyes and lusty thighs gets trapped between two seafaring boats of choad. She has nowhere to go. She’s trapped.
But inverted ‘bag sandwich?
This means that two delicious cuties actively choose to play the role of slices of rye on the corned beef sandwich of douche filling.
How is this formation even possible?
How does Corned Beef pull it off? Is it the sexy unbuttoned shirt? The stripe of grease on the Pringles ridged forehead? The Jesus bling? The douche-pout?
All I know is Roller Girl may be flunking out of DeVry, but I would pay for her tanning salon appointments with a 20% tip if it meant I could water her ferns while she drives back to Orange County to stay with her parents on weekends.
Tex
I was almost ready to give Tex a “Get Out of ‘Bag Free” card until I spied the “designa” Yankees cap. Granted, no hat tilt, but still, when did baseball caps get all “stylized,” and can I light the ad wizard who came up with that one on fire?
Ah, hell with it. Go in peace Furry Man. You’re okay by me.
Liquid Blue makes me want to whip up a tall blonde smoothie out of strawberries, sherbert and boobies and drink it down with a shot of wheat grass.
K Hottie Goes 'Bag Hunting
Reader K Hottie writes in with the following ‘bag hunting pic and capture story:
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Hi DB1!
I was out at this club in Tampa/Clearwater and saw this HUGE Douchebag dancing alone in a cleared out section of the dance floor. He was all greased up and he would’ve sworn he was Britney’s back-up dancer/future ex-husband.
I immediately thought of HCwDB and asked some of the girls I was with if they were willing to subject themselves to his oozing douchness for the sake of comedy.
(FYI: I’m the blonde on the far left . . .)
I was not at all surprised when he GLADLY said he would take a picture with us as long as we didn’t touch him and mess up his body oil. WOW. The picture is a classic. The tongue, the tatt’s, the cocked hat, the nasty undershirt tucked into his Tommy jeans and revealing his FTL’s. Nasty ass. Ugh.
Then he proceeded to follow us for the rest of the night with his camera phone. Yuck. It will be worth it though when I see the hilarious comments you and our fellow ‘bag hunters make. Also, my VERY DRUNK friend did manage to throw up the USF Bulls sign to the left of his head while “messing up his body oil”.
—-
Oh, K Hottie, a sexy perky gorgeous ball of blonde with a sense of humor and the ability to capture a stage-4 uber-douche in his natural environment. You are hottie and ‘bag hunter in one complete package of hott. I tip my cup of Night Train to you, sweet princess, and quietly hump your childhood teddy bear.
HCwDB of the Week
Other then the sad news about Pumpy, it was generally a good weekend for your humble narrator in all things greasy/scrotey, The DB1. Not the least of which was enjoying the Saturday Night Live sketch, “The Douchebag of the Year Awards.” It was pretty funny, although lacking in the dialectic of hott-chick.
But I think I enjoyed it more the first time. When it was called “Hot Chicks with Douchebags.”
I was just glad to see SNL is still on the air after all these years. I thought it crashed and burned in the early 2000s after that self inflicted influenza outbreak in Decatur, Illinois.
I’m not sure if you read about it. Overwhelmed by having laughs, humor and mirth sucked out of their subconscious through the psychoanalytic trauma known as “Jimmy Fallon,” the audience started self injecting active flu virus into their eyeballs using giant horse needles. A last, desperate attempt by a sad and desperate people to spare themselves from the existential crisis known as the “Fallon Stutter.” Very sad.
But I kid the SNL writing staff. Because I’m sitting on my floor scratching myself, and they’re getting uberhott New York Dalton educated librarian glasses wearing art-hotties at the after party. Damn New York Art Hotties. I miss you so.
On to the finalists…
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Velvet Helmet
The ancient Greeks had a word to describe this guy.
That word was “douchebagus ipso facto umberto eco.” Well, okay, it was more like a phrase than a word. Roughly translated, it means “Where’d I leave my socks?”
We’ve seen hotter lineups of hotties, most recently in Friday Night Freddy, but those girls had the quasi-“pro” vibe. And, like we saw with Dante’s Assferno, the perfect hottie glutes of child bearing hip hugging asstastic perfection will only take a hottie/douchey coupling so far if they’re paid to be there.
So what to make of Velvet Helmet’s douchey ways? And what to do with Terri Hatcher Crazy Eyes hottie, whose perky overbite would get The DB1 to overspend on a bottle of $90 saki at Sushi Roku while she tells me about her new agent and how he’s totally going to get her a part on “24.”
No. No he isn’t, Terri Hatcher Crazy Eyes. And this saki is expensive.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Dude With a Lot of Popped Collars
The Dude With a Lot of Popped Collars has that everyman Rocky Balboa inspirational douchebaggery. Like Ricky before him, The Dude With a Lot of Popped Collars has a shot a cult hero status.
He’s the little ‘bag that could.
He’s got a perky state school cutie named Ramona or Sharon. And he’s got a lot of popped collars.
Douche? Perhaps only on a rudimentary level of douchological impact.
But still. In many ways he has a profound douche essence well beyond the actual signifiers of douchery. And hey. Thems a lot of popped collars. So I enter him and Sharon/Ramona with the nice smile, and see if they have what it takes to win the Weekly. They just might. Because hey. That’s a lot of popped collars.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Thornton Mellon Stewie Head
Inverted football Stewie Head Thornton Mellon was our Wednesday Limerick candidate, so I dub thee after the great Rodney Dangerfield’s great performance in Back To School.
Mellon here is an impressive ‘bag/hott combo because he retains his douchey imprint long after initial consumption has taken place.
Like a delicate flower. Or a punch to the ballsack.
The Council of Trent! What’s that? Sorry, I didn’t hear the question. Oh, the question was why is Thornton Mellon Stewie Head and his cutie worthy for HCwDB of the Week honors?
Because Mellon has chin pubes, the A/X, and the sexy corn fed brunette ball of teddy bear cute. Toss in the mexican sombrero guy in the background and the only thing that would make this pic more fantastic is an oragutan packin’ heat, like in Cannonball Run II.
Speaking of Cannonball Run II, was that Molly Picon cameo the most random slice of cameo casting esoterica until Bono as Ken Kesey in “Across the Universe”? I’d argue yes.
But I digress. Like a Fallon laugh ruining a sketch, which of these three pics is your selection for hott/choad winner? The mellon head of Thornton Mellon Stewie Head and his sexy cornfed hottie? The everyman populist campaign of The Dude With a Lot of Popped Collars and Ramona with the nice smile? Or is it the classic scrotal annoyances of Velvet Helmet and his posse of hott?
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
College
College.
A time to read the great works of literature.
A time to bask in the glow of intellectual tradition.
To explore the limits of philosophy, science and the humanities as your mind grows fertile and stimulated.
And a time to get hotties drunk on Cuervo, drop trou and proudly display your Hilfiger.
Retro Douche: Malibu
To honor Pumpy, I thought we’d feast on a little early 1990s Malibu douchery. I can’t tell if Malibu is the prototype for early 1990s West Coast surf-scrotery, or just a hilarious actor. But either way, that clip is great. Hang loose, Malibu.
“American Gladiators” needs big budget summer action studio picture treatment, stat. I’m talking McG level spectacle.
Starring Thomas Jane as tough guy “Blade,” uber-stud Paul Walker as the playboy with a heart of gold, the lusty Scarlett Johanssen as “Blonde Steel,” and the pumped up Carrot Top as the wacky comic relief American Gladiator, “Carrot Head.”
Come on.
You know you’d pay to see that.
It’s gotta be better than Transformers.
