Blogger Douche
Blogger, the software I use to update the site, has been buggy as hell all weekend freezing the site and losing a bunch of comments. So my apologies if it continues for another day or two. I guess I shouldn’t complain, what with the software being free and all, but I’m convinced Blogger is run by a douchebag like this guy. That being said, there’s some great douchey/hottie combos for the upcoming week as well as the long awaited ‘bag smackdown — the HCwD of the Month contest. That will go up either Tuesday or Wednesday.
It’s almost a shame Pat didn’t make it for this round, but maybe I’ll throw him in there as the Division Winner who got to skip the wildcard rounds. Because seriously, what sums up douche more than Pat and his hottie sister/girlfriend?
Porcelain Man
It kinda looks like Porcelain Man’s snagged Big Red’s only shirt from his closet. But the Ayn Rand Bling is certainly a new direction in douchebag accoutrement. P.M. can’t even muster a smile, instead he busts douchebag face gesture #2. And wrist-bling, which is uber-douche level annoyance. What a tool.
Hottie appears to be paid to pretend she wants to touch porcelain statues and smile for the camera. But her abs are Sunday Best. And I’m a huge fan of choke collars. So this pic gets an honorary “hello there hottie and douchebag” greeting from DB1’s bag of greetings.
And a toast of the Irish Rose.
Brandon Walsh D.B.
Jason Priestly’s really let himself go. I mean, stick-on eyebrows? Come on Jason. It can’t be that bad on the unemployment line.
I’ve never been a huge surfboarder but some of these ‘bag jawlines make me want to shrink myself to microscopic size and start doing half turns over their chins. I’m convinced there’s a market for douche-jaw inspired slopes out there. I gotta call the x-games and pitch that one.
Sultry ambiguously South American hottie has lips to die for, even as she exhibits late stage Bleeth infection. Perhaps irreversable douchebaggery has taken hold. Given she’s got Plastic Priestly next to her, I can see why. Good luck Bleethed out hottie. Maybe someday you’ll return from your journey into the land of chinny douchebaggery.
Scooby Douche
Look at this group of scrote/hotness, It’s like a douchebag version of “Scooby Doo.”
Wonder when they’ll pile into the Mystery Van and drive off to solve haunted houses through creative use of hand gestures and hair gel.
Either that or they’re some early 80s techno tribute band like “The Styx Experience.” Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with douche…
Mmm… I need some cereal…
Frogger
Vis a vis all the JeterBags, looks like I’ve been posting repeat douchebags without even knowing it in the past few days. That’s what I get for having a brain addled by too much ‘Train and that soft, chocolately goodness of the Hostess HoHos. They melt in your mouth, 600 calories of pure sugary goodness.
Unlike Frogger here. Who deserves a nice stingray barb to the heart, Erwin style. I don’t know what safari he thinks he’s going on, but those sunglasses deserve to be inserted rectally on this pube covered monstrosity.
Chicka ain’t the hottest crayon in the ocean, but it’s Friday, I’m already half drunk, and she beats sitting on my rug picking crumbs out of the sofa.
Pat-thetic
I know. I shouldn’t keep doing this to you. But how could I resist one more of everyone’s favorite androgyne?
Besides, it takes serious work to get a face that shiny. Observe its shinyness as opposed to the less shiny face of the women who actually ARE wearing makeup. That’s gotta be some sort of record.
I’m also a huge fan of whomever framed up this photo. I’m moved by the use of negative purple space. As if to say, “Behold! Douche does not float.”
More Coral
Speaking of ‘bags who look like Derek Jeter, this pinch hitter’s coral douchitude matches only the greasy chest for rank nastiness. Shine on, you crazy douchebag.
I have to say, whoever invented the strapless/backless dress is right up there with the dudes who invented the polio cure, color television and HoHos. Man alive, thems award winning shoulder blades.
Bilbo 'Baggins
I’m sure I’ve used the Bilbo ‘Baggins line before somewhere on this site but what the hell, it’s Friday.
Nice pube lip, Bilbo.
No seriously, nice lip.
If I pull on that patch will a pack of cigarettes come out of your mouth?
Zombie Hottie is slightly scary, but hey, if she attacks me and eats my brain, at least I’ll get to cuddle with those fantastic baby back ribs.
Claude and Bat Boy
You. Mustache Scrote. White Guy with the African wristband. You deserve a very special douchebag nickname.
I’ve gone through the list. I’ve pondered the ramifications of various monikers. And I’ve concluded there is only one for your shiny forehead douchiness.
Claude.
I’ve knighed you “Claude” because you don’t even deserve a funny nickname. You don’t get a nickname that plays off the word “douche” even. You just get “Claude.” And that’s what you get for holding up a fruity drink with the douchiest hand gesture this side of the double-sideways V.
And I haven’t forgotten about you on the right there. You’re the fourth douchebag this week to look like Derek Jeter. In fact you may be one of the other JeterBags on here. So for that, you get “Bat Boy.”
Hottie in the middle, you’re aging well, but I still advise you to run like the wind before Claude and Bat Boy get any friendlier.
BirdBags
Holy crap, this swirling mixture of Grieco virus, hair gel, Bleethed out hotties, and uberdouchitude is too much for one man to endure.
It’s like douche soup.
I want to serve it in a bowl with a side order of fries and saltines.
And an egg creme.
Mmm… egg cremes.
