Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

HCwDB of the Week: 'Bag Island

While the early groundswell of support for the Assferno gave way to discounting for being too “professional,” and the spectacular uberdouchosity of The Warthog also began to wane, the slow and steady nausea of The Miller Lite Fratchoad and his perfect blonde hottie won the race and takes the Weekly with ease.

As Darin sums it up in the comments thread, there’s just something about Fratty McChoad and his blondie that was too horrifying to ignore:

The other two candidates are impressive in their own ways, but for sheer, raw, douchiness, the ‘Bag Islander picture is the equivalent of a chile that seems mild and fruity on first bite, but grows and swells with heat, until your mouth, your digestive tract, and eventually your entire body is wracked and overwhelmed with burning, nausea, and sweat.

Well said, Darin. Sometimes we underestimate the power of the Miller Lite Fratchoad to personify all that is douche. As doucheland, doucheland, über alles puts it:

The guy in the ‘Bag Islanders is classic douche. He’s harkening back on the days back in the 80s/early 90s when he thought he was hot s@#t. Headband, the dyed hair, and the douchegrin and gesture which suggest he’s saying “You da man!” Miller Lite is also a nice touch.

Heh. Nice dig at the Motherland with the name, DDUA.

But The Warthog and Dante’s Assferno found their fans. Danny Noonan tees up a golf shot for The Warthog:

The ‘bag Islander inspires hate in me unseen since Sam moved in with the Drummonds on Diff’rent Strokes. Yet not quite the hate I feel for the Warthog. The Warthog’s proximity to one of the all time HCs (Hollish McRacky) and his complete scrote tint and face put him in a rare category. It’s gotta be the Warthog.

Interestingly, the Assferno received a number of votes from our female ‘bag hunters. dita von douche casts in with the pros:

I have to vote Dante’s Assferno. The amount of ass in the picture, the level of douchosity, the making out chicks with the tramp stamp, the tats…. Assferno by a landslide.

And mistress julie agrees:

Dante’s Assferno because it’s just like watching bad porn: hot chicks and revolting douches in the same screen shot. Yuck. I don’t need to see faces, just close ups here please. And by close ups, I mean asses.

The ladies love the merits of the female posterior, and who am I to argue with that logic?

But stanley ipkiss makes the case for the ‘Bag Islanders to take the crown:

Close call. But i’d go with the ‘Bag Islanders.

Oh, and the mammaries of the hottie behind makes me curse at my nothingness in the society.

I feel your pain, S.I. And I’m pleased to see the undefinable affect within the nausea inducing hottie/douche cohabitation of the ‘Bag Island carry it to a victory.

Sure it’s not as obvious as other pics. But it’s there. Oh yes. That rank foul odor of hott and choad, mixing amidst daddy’s boat and a warm can of Miller Lite.

Chalk up a victory for the White Man’s Overbite, and punch the ‘Bag Island a ticket to the Monthly.

Gunter in Rio

Que bella! Rio Hottie is a a tasty drink of water. The tan-lines curve along windy skin rivers of trickling water over rocks. She has poetic boobies of boobage poetry. I would, uhm, grab them.

Hmm. That wasn’t so poetic. Just true.

Gunter is your typical metro-bag urban club going douchewank. Just the right hint of chin-fungus and cactus hair. And by right, I mean wrong.

Yes, there have been others like Gunter. And there will be again. But that doesn’t mean I can’t mock his shaven chest and zombie face. Or the unfair possession of Rio Hottie.

Together, they wear white.

The 'Bag in the Bar

Every bar has one.

The ‘Bag in the Bar. The dude who stays until close every night. The creepy weird guy who everyone’s friendly with, but not too friendly because you’re not quite sure if he has a job, or even an apartment outside of his well worn spot sipping Bud Light’s and chatting up the weary bartender hottie.

Here’s one of these BitBs caught in action, mugging a doe eyed bar wench straight out of a 19th Century Manchester pub somewhere in Northern England. I’d ask her to serve me a mug of Mead, and then discuss land taxation and the problem of the proles.

Fish Slaps For Everyone

One of the true legends of HCwDB, the power of “Hall of Scrote” enshrined Fish Slap’s oily charms to pull unbelievable hot chicks remains potent, greasy and completely douchuous.

Just look at the lineup of hott that the douche who deserves a slap in the face from a dead halibut has pulled here, here, and here.

Now we find the ‘Slap featuring the early warning signs of leathery Gator-like Wrath of Khan chest? Is there no end to the scrotal intermingling of ‘bag signifiers among the triumphant uber-douche specimens that pull the hottest of boob-hott?

Here’s to you, Fish Slap. And by here’s to you, I mean a dead mackerel to the face and I’d feel a little better.

Not much. But a little.

The Pimple

I’m not sure when the wool cap, tilted and pulled low over the ears, became a staple of the douche wardrobe rotation. Usually you see hats like that on weary middle aged Russians climbing up-hill through the snow to fetch the weekly bread shipment from Minsk.

Here we see it on a severed floating pimple-head popping up about three mature but dirrty cuties like a plastic whack-a-mole.

Someone clearasil that wool cap before drunken blonde on the left does something she’ll regret in the morning.

Facehugger

Watch out, Newt!! Facehugger wants to lay douche-eggs in your stomach!!

Or, to paraphrase Ripley in the landing hanger: Get away from her, you douche!!

Heh.

Yeah.

Obvious. But I went for it.

The Flip

Of all the many permutations and combinations of Douchebag hat tilt, this may be a first.

The 180 Degree Z-Axis Triple Lindig of ‘Bag Hat Tilt. Impressive, Creepy Toad. Most impressive.

His doughy shaven chest makes Calcutta Nuns rend their garments and convert to Scientology.

She is goofy Long Island Iced Tea with lemon goodness. I’d order her with my steak and popcorn shrimp at the Sizzler.

The Quitter

I reiterate the following guideline for all douche classification:

Those who purchase shirts with annoying crude statements on them as a means of demonstrating humor and personality, have neither.

State School Douchefodder

It’s not so much that the state school douchewanks piss me off. Although they do.

It’s watching them scrote their scrotey wares while being totally and completely clueless to the level of outrageously unbalanced hott that God has seen clear to bless them with through their four C+ years of business school malaise.

You just don’t deserve that, Az State Wank. Not even remotely.

Although Mia Sara Hottie does seem to have one ginormous leg. A Ferrari stealing school skipping Rooney embarrassing thighosity.

But I would still crash Cameron’s car just for the chance to secretly watch her change by the jacuzzi.

Stardouche

In an impressive display of hair carving ability, Stardouche has qualified for ‘bag status with neither hand gesture, face gesture, tatt nor giant goiter in the shape of the letters “D” and “B.”

Instead, he’s busting what appears to be either the Bat Signal or a shamrock. Shaved into his head. And unless you’re a rookie linebacker getting hazed on the Cincinatti Bengals, that’s some douchey-ass hair.

Smirking Lip Gloss cutie is all sorts of trouble. And trouble happens to be my middle name.

Okay no. My middle name is Bernie. Stupid Bernie. Why aren’t you Trouble?