Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Scrote for Pedro

Those are some sweet, sweet moves.

Triple Puke

Must…. fight… overwhelming… douchetude… must… resist… power of scrote… losing… losing…

DB1 chugs bottle of the ‘Train….

ahhh…

What were we talking about?

Friday Pain

The weekend’s almost here, you didn’t think I was going to let you get away without one more pic to send you smashing your head into your keyboard in pain, did you?

Of course not. The DB1 is here to serve up the insanity of the HCwD with regular goodness. Like clockwork. Or cheese fries.

Here’s a prepubscent knob featuring classic ‘bag frosted flakes hair and A/X branding who managed to sneak into a club long enough to tackle this sexy, if enhanced, little Christina Aguilera looking vixen.

God bless whomever invented that dress. Then you look at the pale chihuaua embracing her, and it all just seems so very very wrong.

HCwDotW: Labor Day 'Bag

In one of the tightest votings in awhile, Labor Day ‘Bag takes home the prize and is elevated into the Hall of Scrote edging out The Bas and Million Dollar Douchebag by the tip of his pink, ten degree tilted hat.

As Scrote M. Walsh succinctly puts it:

I clench my fists just looking at that picture. The hat, no shirt, played out tattoo, gay sunglasses and the hottest chick this side of the Missouri River.

Nicely put, Scrote M. douchebag out! summarizes the feelings of a few readers toward the Million Dollar ‘Bag’s interference in what appears to be quite the sapphic encounter:

Million Dollar Douche gets my vote. Not because he’s a Euro Douche (this f-er is as American as the Notre Dame Leprechaun). He wins ‘cuz his ugly ass f-ed up the picture…AND he has bitch tits. Get to the gym seamus.

mickey o’douche also lays the smackdown on the MDB:

it’s #3 no contest. The ladies are already in position and feeling frisky, whilst pseudo-Irish bag would simply require a quick uppercut to one of his man-breasts, and he’s off to his cosmetic surgeon for a replacement of his implant. And then, a quick costume change for the ladies, as I drape them in slinky brown-black capes suggestive of oreo cookies, and pop my creamy white body in betwixt them. Me likey cookie sex.

Heh. ten degree hat throws some scrote at the Bas:

On the other hand, Douche No. 1 has that smug, pretending-to-be disinterested-sneer, just too damn cool to even look at the camera, with the eyebrows, hair, half unbottoned shirt and his ten-degree-hat-wearing conjointed twin. His girl adds just enough perky girl next door sexiness to swing my vote to this vile slug of a douche.

But as Pixelated Abe says:

Gotta go with Labor Day Douche. He’s got the ultra hottie, 10 degree hat – Flaming Pink Edition, no shirt w/ Jesus tat combo, and he’s got his Douche-o-blockers on.

And so LDB’s our rank scrote of the week. Lets all rattle our Jesus Bling, fondle our tribal tats and grease up the forehead in LDB’s honor. This pic of rank douchitude comingling with luscious hotness is the personification of our ‘bag hunting goals here at HCwD and we should all stare at its unholy horrorshow until the pain seeps down deep into our pores like an extra layer of Axe Body Spray.

Stupid 'Bird

The DB1 is moving slowly today after a late night spent sitting on my rug and downing bottles of Thunderbird… updates shortly…

Two Angels and a Grub

There comes a time in every ‘bag hunter’s life when you stumble across a pic so confusing, so perplexing, and so overwhelmingly hottie/douchey that you just want to take a two hour shower and scrub furiously.

This may not be one of those times. But it’s close.

I want to stare at these two absolutely fantastic beauties on the left, but this pale skinny ball of douche-wax refuses to let my soul find peace. He torments me with his scrotiness. He pours acid on my spirit. He pollutes my vision with his taint.

And seriously, this blond euro-hottie is just too good for words. Her dark haired sidekick is even better. And just look at how they’re gazing at me. They want the DB1. I don’t blame them. I’m a tasty little piece. Even if I do smell like cheap wine, beer, cigs and sewer rat. It’s all part of my oblique charm.

Glazed

To paraphrase the comedy classic “Major League,” look at this f-in scrote.

I want to dunk this furry scrote in the fryer at my local Krispy Kreme until I’ve created a new flavor of doughnut: The Glazed’bag.

Hottie has that elegant and refined “classy” look that also says she’ll dress up in rubber, spank you with a cookie monster doll and scream “Love me, Big Bird, love me!” And I would.

No more Ashton

Unfortunately Ashton Kutcher ‘Bag just wrote in asking to have his pic taken down, so I busted out the mad photoshop skillz and fixed the photo below.

EDIT: And I’m keeping the HCwDotW votes open another day because there’s tons of regulars who haven’t voted yet. Not to mention it’s basically a three way tie right now and my ‘Train addled brain ain’t too good with the higher math.

It’s like P. Diddy says: “Vote or Douche”

Scrotey Kravitz

I want to get away… I want to fly… away…

and take cowboy blondie with me…

Kutcher 'Bag

Here’s a classic example of the inner ‘bag exploding all over a poor hottie victim who doesn’t know what hit her. This oily Ashton Kutcher looking scrote may not exhibit overt signs of douchitude, but as soon as Kutcher ‘Bag hits the dance floor, out comes ‘Bag Headlock Position #12. Before you can scream “Grieco!,” he’s tackled this sexy little beansprout spreading his ‘bag virus all over the poor thing.

And she is a sexy, sexy beansprout indeed.

Mmm…. perfect abs… I’d have abs for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I could… I’d lavish them with Freudian affections then make them a cup of tea. I’d lead a hiking expidition into the hills above the bellybutton, using only my cunning and trail mix to survive. She is quite the peach.

Whether she ever freed herself from the grip of Kutcher ‘Bag, we’ll never know…

EDIT: Photo altered after posting.