Revelation
And lo, the Lord said, let the Hottie’s consciousness awaken, and she shall see what she has beheld. And she shall see that it is douchebag.
3:52 The Book of ‘Bag
St. Patty's Douchebaggery
I like to view St. Patty’s Day as sort of the gender reversal affect seen at Halloween. Whereas Halloween allows the covert hot chick to let out her inner slut, St. Patty’s Day is when covert douchebags are allowed to trumpet their inner scrote. If only we could merge Halloween and St. Patty’s Day, now then we’d have some fantastic HCwDB-ery.
Count the stage-1-2 ‘baggers on display:
Butch, the Green Shirted Jock ‘Bag, wouldn’t be ‘bag except for the bizarre need to punch himself in the groin. And the fact his girl is busting ‘Bag Hand Gesture #32. Not a good sign for ole’ Butch’s douchey ways.
Wez, the Australian outback hunter pictured at bottom, douches out Mad Max style.
Mandana boy gets away with at least busting the green, but the ginormous size of that thing suggests early onset scrotitude.
The dork on the left has yet to learn that his t-shirt is longer than his coat. His application at Starbucks is pending his learning to successfully foam a latte. His parents are pulling for him.
Blonde in the striped shirt makes me want to Guinness my James Joyce until my cabbage is corned beef. She is Abbey’s Irish Rose perfection.
The Baseball Thwack
Remember being whacked in the head and knocked on your ass back when you were a kid?
You’re eleven or twelve years old and you’re running around on the playground, and you distantly hear some older kid yell out a “heads up!” only to catch a whirling blur out of the corner of your eye moments before,… THWACK, a baseball to the side of your head. You weren’t even playing, just jogging across the field to meet a few friends. Your friends saw the whole thing, they’re not sure whether to laugh at your sorry ass or call a teacher to come help.
Okay, perhaps that extremely specific anecdote just relates to me. But conceptually I’m sure you’ve had similar moments. Moments where you find yourself knocked over on your ass of the school field, your temple throbbing, your stomach on the verge of puking, and a few 9th graders staring at you, smirking, wondering if you’re dead or not. Stupid 9th graders. Get back to physics class before Mr. Henessey catches you.
This pic is the adult version of that childhood head thwack. A mixture of surprise, pain, confusion, discombobulation, a touch of humiliation and the vague desire to throw up. It is a digital pixelated baseball to the side of a twelve year olds head.
Trenton 'Bag
The question is not one of ‘bag.
Merely one of paper or plastic. Garbage or kitchen.
Keeping with the Jerseyesque tone to the pics over the past week I give you, Trenton ‘Bag: Average Everyday Douche. Hero to budding scrotes everywhere.
And a sexy drink of paisley love. I would offer her those fake flowers on the end table, then take her down to Sizzler and feed her popcorn shrimp by hand until she fell for my wily charms.
Speaking of, anyone seen my blue jacket? Can’t remember if I brought it home last night. Stupid vodka.
The Dharma 'Bag On the Road
The Dharma ‘Bag, still smarting off his photo finish loss in this week’s HCwD of the week, wanted to come by and remind everyone to have a douchey weekend. And by douchey, he means douchey.
Proving once again, that even the pudgiest choad can attract hotties with space/time bending gravitational pull provided they adopt the douchebag tropes, Dharma ‘Bag’s holy and Zen transcendence remains inspirational, even in light of the Douche Platoon taking him down, Miami style.
But it’s all good. His blue eyed doe will be sure to simultaneously keep Dharma ‘Bag on the meditative path while glancing at us mockingly, her eyes saying it all, “Where is your God now?”
Nowhere to be seen, blue eyed doe. Nowhere to be seen, lest locusts smite the meditative Siddharta ‘Bag inspired Dharma ‘Bag. Either way, it’s one holy hell of an Eastern religious inspired douchebag mess. But at least it’s Friday. And there’s alcohol. Which proves at least something about a God. Or at least, ask me in six hours.
Beer Boy
I’m not sure Beer Boy is more than a stage-1 ‘bagger or so, but that slender stalk of hotness makes me want to climb into a soft, goose-down filled umbrella made out of candycanes and chocolate covered cherries and nuzzle those boobies with my chin for a weekend or three. She’s like a fine dark and sultry wine, a taste of Sherilyn Fenn mixed with a slice of Rosario Dawson. I would jump into a bathtub full of electric eels wrapped in tinfoil just to rub her bobby-socks on my inner thigh. Of course, why electric eels would be wrapped in tinfoil is something I haven’t figured out.
It’s true. I need help.
Oh, and douchebag? Put down the beer, take off the cap, and set your eyebrows on fire. I say this not due to any personal malice. You simply need to have your eyebrows on fire. It’s not an individual thing. It’s a societal imperative.
Kevin McScrote and the Woos
PIC DELETED
Don’t be angry at Kevin McScrote. It is not his fault he’s been blessed with perfect oily abs that resemble an HR Giger Landscape. It is hard work having chest muscles that resemble gothic post-modern painting.
Instead you should cheer for Kevin McScrote. Out of college for at least seven years, he packed up his entire collection of shirts (two) and shorts (three), and drove down to Daytona to hang with the spring break hotties.
Here Kevin is, demonstrating his gothic Swiss Art inspired muscle tone for a gaggle of Woo!! Hotties, none of whom seem remotely interested. But does that deter Kevin’s posturing? No. Nor should it deter you in whatever inspiration you draw from this short journey we call life.
So for inspiring Alien 5 with his chest, for busting the 10 Degree Hat Tilt, and for the best pair of aviator goggle sunglasses this side of a 1979 Farrah Fawcett shoot, we should all give it up for Kevin McScrote here with as much energy as the Woos are ignoring him.
It ain’t easy maintaining stud dominance in one’s late 20s. That takes work. And by work I mean living out of a van and oiling one’s chest.
Friday Haiku
Facial Pubes, Faux Hawk,
Douche of rancid grease, so wrong.
Fishnet, soft. So soft.
Douchebag Trawler:
You’ve had a good day on the nets
Now catch and release.
— bmt
The sparkle from your
Gigantic forehead blinds me,
Soul-patch assface douche.
-Good Will Doucheing
mark mcgrath douchebag:
is she really going out
with him? flesh pillows.
— vinegar water sack
i don’t like fishnets
but the lust pillows look real
which saddens me so
— lower case bag
Welcome to HCwDB!!
I suppose now’s as good a time as any to welcome all the new traffic coming to the site from the recent mentions on Thrillist, Gawker and I Love Bacon. So welcome! And by welcome I mean boobies.
Maybe you’re wondering what we do around here? If so, reread the banner at the top of this page.
You’ll find there’s a lot of strange terms we use around here, things like “The Grieco Virus,” “Bleething” and “Cleavite.” Most of these terms are semi self explanatory, but if you get confused you can always check out the HCwDB FAQ. Not everything’s answered there, because after all, I’m the biggest douchebag there is. Well, maybe not as big as Donkey Douche. But a close second. Well, maybe not as big as Xenu either, but I’m still a big-ass scrote.
If you’ve got a great pic of a hottie/douchey combo or if you’re a hot chick and you just want to say hi, drop me a line at douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com. If you want me to run a pic busting on your best friend douching it up, I take bribes in the form of bottles of Night Train or packages of Tasty Hostess HoHos, everyone’s favorite sweet snack treat.
If you’re in a pic and upset, yes you can email me and I will take it down, but not before mocking you and your pansy-ass wussiness. So buck up and stop whining. It’s still your douchey ass in the pic with a cutie and not mine.
For those visiting from the cubicle/work hell that most of us find ourselves in, you can always use the alternate URL for the site, http://www.hcwdb.com. And be sure to check out the comments threads under each pic I post, the cast of regulars dissects the hottie/douchey wrongness with the laser scalpel of inspired pixelated shredding on a daily basis.
Also, I’m now up on myspace at myspace.com/hotchickswithdouchebags, so add me and I’ll add you back.
Ours is a dark yet hilarious yet boobie filled undertaking, and I hope you’ll join up with us on this mission, nay compulsion to shine the cleansing light of ridicule on the cultural wrongness of the HC and DB commingling. Thanks again to everyone emailing, keep the comments coming.
We study the hottie/scrotey because we must mock. We mock because we love. We love because we’re half drunk on cheap wine and HoHos. Or is that just me?
The Leech
Leeches are annelids comprising the subclass Hirudinea. There are fresh water, terrestrial and marine leeches. Like their near relatives, the Oligochaeta, they share the presence of a clitellum. Like earthworms, leeches are hermaphrodites. The medicinal leech, Hirudo medicinalis, which is native to Europe, and its congeners have been used for clinical bloodletting for thousands of years.
All leech species are carnivorous. Some are predatory, feeding on a variety of hotties such as bartenders, strippers, and local hoochies, while a very few are haemophagic parasitic blood-sucking leeches, feeding on the blood of vertebrates such as amphibians, reptiles, waterfowl, fish, and mammals (including humans). The most important predators on leeches are fish, aquatic insects, crayfish and other leeches specialized for predation on leeches.
Haemophagic leeches attach to their hosts and remain there until they become full, at which point they fall off to digest. Leeches’ bodies are composed of 34 segments. They all have an anterior (oral) sucker formed from the first six segments of their body, which is used to connect to a host for feeding, and are known to release an anaesthetic to remain unnoticed by the host. They use a combination of mucus and suction (caused by concentric muscles in those six segments) to stay attached and secrete an anti-clotting enzyme into the host’s blood stream.
Some species of leech will nurture their douchebaggery, exhibiting facial pube configurations, extensive bling, tongue piercings and tribal tats, which is unusual behavior in an invertebrate.
