Douche La Hoya
Hottie has the brain-assploding reality of being a wholesome, absolutely delectable, chocolate strawberry girl next door flavor, yet she’s wearing a slip in a skeezy nightclub next to Oscar Douche La Hoya. How is this possible? The previous inflated cutie was at least Grieco-infected to a level where douche virus infection explained the hottie/douchey comingling.
But this? This I can not abide.
Put up the gloves, hottie! Watch his right hook! Douche La Hoya is a pro-douche boxer here. Hottie shouldn’t even be in the ring. She should be in my ring. And by ring, I mean a clever boxing euphemism for extended coitus.
And by hook, I mean an extended graphic torture sequence from a Japanese film directed by Takashi Miike. Involving fish hooks. And boiling tempura oil. And wasabe.
Always Bet on Douche
We have nearly all the bases of classic Vegas Douche covered in this pic. The angular douche-chin. Excessive face bling. Tri-colored hair. Wristband from the latest Izaac Mizdouchey line, “Sweatin’ to the Pumpbags.”
No word on whether or not, like all practicing ‘bags, Vegas here is engaging in his yearly pilgrimage to Douche Mecca, the Hard Rock Casino in Las Vegas. But all signs point to his being a practicing scrote, so assume he’s on his yearly walkabout of spiritual enlightenment. And by spiritual, I mean spittle.
Hottie is too artificial and tatt’ed up to offer any chance of recovery from the Grieco Virus. She is a solid stage-4 Bleether, which is sad. As strictly corporeally speaking, I would suckle her armpits with the fervency of a hyperactive lemur.
Hulk Hands
Note to Fratbags of the world: If you need to use Hulk Hands as your excuse to cop a feel, you got no game.
None.
Just like pouty UNC Fratbag in the foreground seems to grasp. Have another Busch. And by Busch I mean beer.
Friday Rhyme Royal
To sleep, perchance to douche,
Rank, angular frizzle hair,
She makes my happy place wooshe,
He slays my soul with a single stare,
Heaven’s angels no longer care.
I’d nuzzle her hills like Ponce De Leon,
Looking for a drink of freon.
Echo and the 'Baggymen
In the 80s? Kinda cool. In 2007? Kinda Douchey.
Listen up emo ‘Bags, if you think dressing like Axl Rose’s douchey younger brothers is going to attact any hotties, let me tell you…. oh.
Crap.
Douchebags.
'Bag Burrito
Lessee here… dogtags, check. 10 Degree hat tilt, check. Um… Peace sign? Failed “shocker”? Mutant index finger? It’s the ‘bag hand gesture while holding the drink that confuses me. Is it ‘Bag Hand Gesture #48 or #106? Is that a douche-face or simply a scroad-face?
Hell with it. Lets just stamp him choad and call it a day.
Hottie may be artificially tanned, but just because I used a microwave to cook my burrito doesn’t make it any less delicious. I don’t know what that means. But I like burritos.
Bandaid Boy
I’ve never really gotten the whole “funny slogan t-shirt” thing. As far as I’m concerned it’s the douchebag club going equivalent of the Greenpeace dude with the 70s pinto and four hundred bumper stickers holding his back bumper on.
Word of advice, Bandaid Boy. If you need a clever t-shirt to seem like you have a personality, the actual subtext of the t-shirt is that you have no personality. You are douche.
Not to mention, you look like K.D. Lang.
Twin Bags
Double Bag it!!
uhm…
Doublemint Douche!!
er…
Two for the Scrote!!
hmm…
Some clever play on words that uses double meaning to sum up that I’m looking at twin douchebags!!
That last one was just a little too on point.
State School Hottie #5
Courtesy of doc as well as the DB1’s mad photoshop skillz, here’s corn fed State School Hottie (SSH) looking absolutely perfect, with a little Yellowtail thrown in to balance the HCwDB equation.
God damn, Waldouche is one lucky-ass scrote.
