'Bag / Not a 'Bag
So what’s the verdict on the lanky pud in the middle?
Does Grizzley Adams beard equate to scrote? Or just scrub?
HCwD of the Week: Turkey Edition
This’ll be the final round before the HCwDotM contest next week, and it seems like consensus is that Bagsgiving is running away with the prize. Even so, lets be fair and take a vote. I’m not sold that Turkey Doucherole is the same guy but he may well be. However a HCwD pic operates in its own reality. Whether or not the same person is in each pic is less important than the ability for the given pic to cause you to want to smash your head into a lamp-post until it looks like Ivan Drago at the end of “Rocky IV.” (speaking of which, Rocky IV. I’m there).
So have at it folks. Which pic makes you want to Terri Schiavo yourself?
HCwD #1: The ‘Bagsgiver
Not much to add to the genius of this pic. Only my overt joy that a hottie this stripped down is still concerned about “covering” herself.
Honey, it’s too late, baby, it’s too late…
HCwD of the Week #2: Tree
There’s an understated HCwD genius to this pic that’s growing on me every time I look at it. This is like one of those true rager pics. Just so completely unfair, and that brunette is so mind explodingly chocolate strawberry delicious that I want to gorge on Chips Ahoy/Night Train milkshakes until I die.
I love her.
Don’t start. This time I mean it.
HCwD of the Week #3: Turkey Doucherole
Same ‘bag in ‘Bagsgiving? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Jimmy Kimmel should pack him up in that crate with Kevin Federline and drop his ass in the Indian Ocean.
Pinky ring means we roll a +2 20 sided die for damages.
So have at it folks. Who’s the final entry in this go-round?
Also forgot to mention, anyone who donated some cash to the DB1 Night Train Fund, drop me a line and get a special emailed JPG of the legendary “Shocker” pic that was the first truly great HCwD find on this site (since taken down). It’s the least I can do to thank you guys who kicked a little cash in to help keep the site going. If anyone else wants to help out, the donate button is over there on the left.
And with that being said, vote away fellow ‘bags, hotties and ‘bag hunters. Put your vote in the comments thread.
Ode to The Carpenters
(sung to the tune “Close To You”)
Why does douche, suddenly appear
Every time, cleavite's near?
Unlike me, they long to Bleeth
Close to douche.
Why does scrote, fall down from the sky
Every time, boobs walk by?
Unlike me, they long to Bleeth,
Close to douche.
On the day that douche was born,
The angels got together,
And decided to create a greasy tool,
So they sprinkled slimy gel in his hair of crust,
And tongue gestures in his mouth of scrote...
That is why, all the hotties in town,
Follow douche, all around.
Unlike me, they long to Bleeth,
Close to douche...
Unlike me (Unlike me)
They long to Bleeth,
Close to douche...
Wahhhhhhhhhhh, close to douche....
Wahhhhhhhhhhh, close to douche....
Hahhhhhhhhhhh, close to douche....
Lahhhhhhhhhhh, close to douche....
Thank you... thank you...
HCwDotW shortly…
It was a shortened week, but a HCwD of the week will come shortly…. any requests?
Nuclear Douche
A little known historical fact: When physicist Robert Oppenheimer and the rest of the team working on the Manhattan Project were testing the first atomic bomb in Nevada in the early 1940s, reports described the first blast as taking on an almost human shape.
Reports were sketchy, but first person accounts swear that in that blast, the visage of a face could be seen.
Here’s a quote from Oppenheimer’s journal on that fateful day:
“Today we tested the first blast. The power was beyond our imaginations. Although I witnessed the event from over a mile away, I could swear I saw the contours of a face in the fiery explosion. The pink base resembled a person’s shirt. And the tip of the mushroom cloud took on the round shape of a young man’s head. A giant douchebaggey face. Oily, with spikey hair and a smug expression. I felt God himself was warning me. The power of this new weapon was as destructive as that of the douchebag.” — Robert Oppenheimer, May, 1942.
Let us consider how prophetic Oppenheimer’s words were, then and now.
Tree
If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if a hottie and a tree got romantically involved (and I know you have), here’s proof positive that human-elm cohabitation does indeed exist.
The oily bark tree is renouned for producing rubber, balsam wood, and of course, douchebaggery.
I would chainsaw this tree with a rusty blade, then wood-carve him into a doorstop.
Sultry hottie can be my Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader any day of the week. Even if she’s lost in the proverbial douche wilderness, which rends my psychic garments in many cosmic ways.
Daniel Douche Lewis
I loved Daniel Douche Lewis in “My Left Scrote.” His performance as a greased up bling wearing ball of scumbaggery was a tragic performance and well deserving of the Oscar.
Here’s Douche Lewis in his latest role, that of “PooBag Who Gives DB1 a Headache on a Saturday.” I hope the Academy honors this latest achievement from one of the great douche artists.
I can’t quite figure out what hottie’s wearing. It’s some bizarro early 80s shoulderpad dress-kini. With V.P.L. And sash.
I’d put lemon on her thighs and serve with a tasty tartar sauce.
Douchebaguette
You can almost see the transformation from hottie to Bleethed out Douchebaguette in front of your very eyes. Oily TongueScrote borders on that Twilight Zone edge between GayBag and NerdBag, a gray area of douchitude best left to the imagination.
Hottie’s pouty lips are two pillows of soft candy goodness. I would bounce up and down on them in miniaturized form until Rick Moranis accidentally vacuums me up in a straight to video DVD release.
Yup, it’s Thanksgiving Weekend. And the DB1 is stuffed.
Happy Bagsgiving!
Happy Bagsgiving, from all of us here at HCwD!!
Well it’s just me, actually.
But I’m hittin’ the Cranberry flavored Irish Rose, so it’s all good.
Enjoy a turkey leg with a nice serving of gravy to honor all the hotties in the world who’ve escaped the clutches of douchebaggery.
And meditate over your stuffing and peas that there’s still so much scrote to mock and hotties to save. Thanks to all the hilarious comments in the threads from the regulars, you guys keep me going. And our work has just begun…
Sippy McAss
To paraphrase Bill Maher, New Rule: If your cutie has to hold up your girly drink for you to drunkenly take a sip, you are a mini-douche even if you exhibit no outward signs of douchosity.
Then again, four day weekend. And the color of that drink is remarkably similar to the train. So maybe I’ll just stare with lust at this slightly cross eyed doe.
