Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Friday Haiku

Spirit of Douche Lee,
Prevents the nipple slip, yet
Does not hide scrotebag.

The Douchies: 2006

I almost forgot, here’s a handy rundown of all the Douchie Awards that we handed out for 2006, in case we need to bookmark it for scrote reference in 2007:

Hottest Cleavite: Corona Girl

The Future Ex-Mrs.DB1 Award: Barbarino ‘Bag’s Hottie

Most Persistent Fan Club: Big Red

Best Generi’Bag: Yeesh

Douchiest Sexathon: The ‘BagsGiver

Douchiest Inverted ‘Bag Sandwich Formation: Rocker ‘Bag and the Green Bikini

Douchiest Everything: White Chocolate

Douchiest/Best Frosted/Ab Combo: The Sun ‘Bag

As Voted by the ‘Bags, ‘Bag Hunters and Hotties:

Hottest Abs: The Scrote Warrior

Douchiest OldBag: Yellowtail

Douchiest “Special” ‘Bag: TIE: Polo Boy and Hootie

Douchiest Spikey Hair: Purple Lips (as if there was any doubt)

Scariest Scrote: Old No. 7 aka Cro’Bagnon

Most Prolific ‘Bag Hunter: Douchestar Runner

Zen ‘Bag Master: Doc

Philosophical ‘Bag Master: Baron von Douchehausen

And of course, last but not least, the Lifetime Douchie Award to The Holy Grieco Himself.

Yech. Reliving the past year, I just feel dirty.

EDIT: Forgot to add that Pat doesn’t get a Douchie since he’s on the Trophy itself. But maybe we should give him one anyway. “Douchiest Androgybag”?

Black Lung II: Gender The Dragon

I apologize.

I hate to keep doing this to you.

But we must understand the Outer Rim ‘Bags like “Black Lung” if we have any chance to continue our in-depth exploration of the multitudes of Hottie/Douchey comingling that is sweeping our culture with unholy scrotitude.

Therefore we must press forward.

Do not give up. Do not be fearful. This journey will take us along many dark paths. Like Black Lung’s ambigiously gendered ability to pull fantastic hotties. But journey on we can. Nay, we must! Our steps must not falter. We must be brave. And we must keep going onward, Douchey Soldiers, marching one by one.

As to B.L., heck, I’m stumped. In this pic he looks like a dude. Either way, if he mated with Douche Lee, we can finally get rid of this whole “sexual” thing and return the human species back to a pure state of agamogenesis. Heh, fifty cent word. I looked it up on Wikipedia.

Vinz Clortho

Gozer the Traveller will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldronaii the Traveller came as a very large and moving TORB!! Then of course in the third reconciliation of the last of the Meketrex supplicants they chose a new form for him…that of a giant SLOAR!! Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar that day I can tell you!

Something about this Budding ‘Bag just screamed “Moranis.”

Props to Mitch Meats for the classic Ghostbusters reference.

Scrotey Opie

Don’t hate the playah, hate this douchebag.

He’s like a mini’bag, a ‘bag in training. Taking his first hesitant steps into the world of douchebaggery. A skull bandana the size of Trenton. Cheek grease. Two gallons of Axe Body Spray (presumably). Welcome to douchebaggery, Scrotey Opie. Judging by what you’ve caught, you’ve now become convinced to continue down the douche path.

Fifty bottles of Night Train to the first person who can definitively determine whether this Holy Cleavite is a fully natural occurance or is enhanced through artificial means. Not that it really matters. Librarian Hotties are the key to the DB1’s heart (as well as other areas), and Pearls here makes me happy to be alive.

Scrotey Opie, definitely not.

Poo

Poo.

'Bag / Not a 'Bag

It’s time for our first “‘Bag / Not a ‘Bag” of the new year, and this sausagey pudsmacker is definitely a worthy candidate up for discussion. Or maybe I just had to post a pic of a chick who double fists Long Island Iced-Teas. Mmmm… trashy.

So I put it to the floor. Without any outward sign of douchebaggery, does this average looking joe attain ‘Bag status merely for being sort of creepy and definitely hairy? I’m leaning towards a “Not a ‘Bag” but maybe there are subtle clues I’m missing. The facial pubes? The thatch on the head? The creepy stare?

I put it to you, Greg. ‘Bag or not a ‘Bag? And did “Deal or No Deal” paraphrase my line?

The Stage-4 Bleeth

People sometimes ask me, “DB1, how do I know when a cutie has crossed that invisible barrier? When a hottie has gone past the point of no return down the dark path of Grieco Virus douchitude?” That’s an excellent question.

Lets backtrack for a moment.

When The Source Douche Himself, The Grieco, first appeared on the scene in 21 Jump Street in the early 1990s, his powers of scrote radiation hadn’t reached terminal capacity. When Fair Maiden Bleeth began dating him during her Baywatch days, it took quite awhile, even with exposure directly to the Grieco Himself, before she became the cracked out wasteland we see here. In other words, the Bleething process takes time. A hottie must be exposed to douchebaggery over a length of time that allows them to absorb the bling, facial sneers and hand gestures. Exposure to the ‘bag virus, caught quickly enough, can be redeemed. But like any form of radiation, too much exposure, and a cutie is lost forever.

So to answer the question: There is no easy answer to determine when and how a hottie has “crossed” from stage-2, in which hopes of redemption are still possible, to a stage 3 and 4 level apostate.

Sadly, here is a stage-4 example, “Shocked” beyond all chance of hope. Feel the loss of the once cute goodness. And kick scrotey-boy in the nads.

The ArtBag II

Further proof of mutant ArtBag status for this turd is found in the theatrical environment which we can now place his douchey charms. Are we backstage at a dinner theater version of “Tick… Tick… Douche?” Either way this putz-clown making the “tough” face while embracing the hottest fleshy thighs since Frank Purdue died needs a Hogan drop kick.

Jeans that don’t fit + shiny black dress shoes. Stay classy, ArtBag. Stay classy.

Concerto in B(ag) Flat Minor

After uncomfortably trying to determine Black Lung’s gender only to watch my eyes melt into puddles of room temperature goo, I decided the best cure was a ‘Bag Overture, a douche symphony if you will.

Here we have multiple melodic scrotages interweaving with Philip “Forehead Grease” Glass dexterity yet maintaining the modern classical structures of an Aaron “Facial Pube” Copland. It is a cacophony of phony caca. Douche harmony with just a touch of greasy tonal dissonance.

There was a bit of nudity in this composition, however, which as any classical music afficianado knows is frowned upon at Lincoln Center. Therefore I’ve been forced to invoke the Holy Spirit of Douche Lee (hallowed be thy androgynous name) to preserve the performative nature of this modern composition.

Like any great douche symphony, measure the quality of the composition in the ability to invoke the urge to spew wildly while desiring to suck on the thigh of an Asian cutie in a blue slip (even if she is long past Stage-4, never to come back). Given those criteria, this performance ranks with an early Arthur “Popped Collar” Fiedler. It is that good (and by “good” I mean spew).

Yet this performance of rank douchebaggery is not, apparently, enough to distract text messaging cell phone boy in the background.