Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Zip-a-dee-douchebag

(With apologies to Disney and “Song of the South”)

Zip-a-dee-douchebag,
Zip-a-dee-scrote,
My, oh, my, what a smelly old choad.
Plenty of chin pubes,
headin’ my way,
Zip-a-dee-doo-douchebag
zip-a-dee-wanker!

Zip-a-dee-douchebag,
zip-a-dee-tool,
My, oh, my, what a choady ass tool.
Plenty of boobies headin’ his way,
Zip-a-dee-douchebag,
Zip-a-dee-total-and-complete-douchebag!

Chiquita Mandana

EDIT: Got an immediate email to take the pic down, so instead I’ll post the luckiest man on earth.

Is he a ‘bag for the display of one hand gesture?

Hott, hott, hott…. hell yes he’s a ‘bag. Because it’s late, they’re hott, and I’m sitting on my floor staring at the coffee stain from my Americano from the Coffee Bean.

Mmm… Americanos.

The 'Bag Sandwich

Let me get this straight.

On the left, a slice of spiky haired olive loaf.

On the right, dribbling chin facial pubes like he drank form the msterious mythological Greco-Roman challace, Pornstarpubus Grail.

In the middle, a wholesome Georgia peach with two ginormous fake Georgia peaches.

This choad/hott sandwich combo disturbs on too many levels. Is it early enough to start drinking? And since my hangover is still around well after lunch, can I name it Pedro and ask it to pay rent?

Six Flags

Ever go with your friends to Six Flags Magic Mountain, and you’re having a good time and the lines aren’t too long and you’re enjoying a tasty pretzel and soda while waiting on line for Batman: The Ride, when you suddenly realize you stepped in some kid’s spilled, melted, sticky-ass ice-cream goo?

That’s this couple.

A full 100% complete closed circuit of douchey/hottie reverberation and feedback into a cacophonous white noise impenetrable wall of scrotal opacity.

Woe are the hotties who cuddle with the Six Flags Magic Mountain Floor ice-cream.

Extended exposure between both hott and douche polarities, and not even perky boobies can salvage the melted ice-cream goo.

Ricky Gets Down

You go with your bad self, Ricky.

Fan Mail

Raven Hottie writes in:

—-
hi, i’m on this website and i don’t want too be. and i have no idea how i got on here.
please take it down. thank you.

its bag/not a bag. thanksss!
—-

Which I read as:

Hi DB1. I want you.

Then again I could be walking around a lingerie frat party using a broom-stick as a giant phallus substitute. With my underwear showing.

So there’s that.

Wednesday Limerick

There once was a muscle scrote named Dell,
who smelled like a moldy eggshell,
But his hottie’s backside is glorious,
So I’ll name it Delores,
And take it to lunch at Taco Bell.

HCwDB of the Week: The Gator

A total mudslide. A jaws crunching 1970s horror film of over tanned skin and oiled simian brow getting loose in the pipelines of New York.

The Gator takes the crown Louisiana Crawfish Po’ Boy style.

motherofsquirrelkiller sums up the ass crunches:

Gator aka “well oiled, water resistant leather boots” should win this title bellydown.

Can you imagine what he must be like excecuting the Reptilian “Death Roll”??? That’s something I’d love to witness!!! I wonder if his Hottie’s hair gets entangled in his wild thrashing and I’m sure anything in the imediate area is toast.

A scary thought indeed, MOSK. montana mandana agrees and makes the always appreciated “V” reference in his smackdown:

His piercing glare, his tanned (aaarrrgggghhhh orange) skin that would make such a lovely pair of boots i would use to stand on the back of his neck all while forcing him to repeat the phrase “In awhile Crocodile” as i administer an E.P.T. on his feathery puffin of hottness.

It brings back a glimpse of the 80’s mini-series classic “V” imagine as THE GATOR rips away his fake orange flesh to reveal none other than his reptilian scales much to the dismay of the hot when she realizes soon she will birth Halfalligatorhalfman.

Heh. “V” kicks ass. Almost as much as The Gator’s retched hide of scum and tannery.

My only debate was which Gator pic to use. While the subsequent pics featured far more award winning hotties, I had to go with the first. The iconic. Our introduction to reptilian douchitude.

As sadbag puts it:

And the kicker for me is the amount of Scandidouche vibes I get off this action figure. I sense the Swede is strong in this one. And then sadness sets in… why??? Because as we all know the Scandinavians are the proud descendants of Vikings. Vikings hold a high place in the badasses of history. But this is what has become of a cherished bloodline. THIS!

His ancestors weep and I hear their painful moans through the firmament. I see their raging armies surging, and I fear that they will call upon the heavens to rain down all of Ódinn’s deadly iron arrows to end the earth once and for all.

Nicely played, sadbag. Any references to Scandavian love goddesses deserves a croc hunting nod of respect. But some were concerned that the Gator didn’t feature the obvious douche signifiers like bling and hand gestures. However john von douchemann makes a strong case that such douche manifests would simply detract from the larger “Douche Aura”:

The Gator has my vote, two thumbs, and a few random ‘bag gestures up. The hottie is bearing my children by way of artificial insemination but I am about to tear up the surrogate agreement.

The Gator’s vacant stare and O-Ring are all it takes. A hat tilt or bag gesture would ruin the essence of his genuine homegrown ‘baggerie.

Well put, JvD. Now the Qwerty kittens and Douche Gossage also found some spittle flying. It wasn’t enough to knock off The Gator, but still enough to warrant mentioning. Like my hangover. As scrunt put it:

I have to go with Qwerty. So what if he hired them. Anyone who walks around with a whisk broom on their head deserves kudos. At least kudos from this website.

I wish I was his left hand.

But this Weekly wasn’t a competition so much as a coronation. reservoir douche puts the final stamp on the devastation of the Leather Skin:

Gator, all the way. From his super-intense doucheface, you can tell he’s in the process of trying to use a Jedi Douchetrick to hypnotize us all. If the Force weren’t so strong with me, I think I’d be shaving my chest and painting myself orange as we speak.

Unfortunately, many others are, R.D.

I’m not ready to concede “Hall of Scrote” just yet, as I think every new choad/hott combo deserves at least a two week waiting period. Well, that’s not really true. I’ve insta-elevated a few. But lets give The Gator some time to adapt to his new role as douchebasador for the site. During which we will continue to mock his aligator skin and uber-douche douche face in as many linguistically creative ways that we can.

Chalk up The Gator for the Weekly and book his ticket in the Monthly.

Velvet Jones

It’s a troubling development in the study of scrotology when douchewanks like Velvet Jones start appearing on the scene.

The personification of early 80s SNL Eddie Murphy sketches just should not be taking place in an irony free reality.

However, a special slice of strawberry cheesecake goes out to whichever designer invented the gravity defying loose boob-cling dress. It has the intoxicating aroma of British fish n’ chips and a pint of Guinness.

I would stuff french fries up my nose and stutter while pronouncing “Cathcart Towers Hotel” just for the chance to Wendy her Wandas. And I’m not just making England references because The Gator’s a Brit. Or maybe I am.

'Bag / Not a 'Bag

PIC DELETED

It’s tough cleansing the palette after a Black Betty ‘Bag hunt, Jabbabag and the genius of the Gator. So I’ll slow it down with a ‘Bag / Not a ‘Bag weigh in.

Fey peace sign making dude with the insect hands probably isn’t ‘bag, but I would love the lost Olsen Triplet in so many inconvenient ways that I’d be arrested and strung up for treason in Singapore.