Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Jersey Spew

Apologies again for the craptastic software bugs today, the blogging software I use, “Blogger,” seems to be run by a bunch of clowns working out of a patchwork dormroom circa 1996. To make up for the problems, here’s a solid HCwD spew-worthy pic of Jersey roots quality.

Allow its noxious odors to fire you up and cool you down. Sort of like the digital equivalent of sweet-n-sour soup.

'Bag / Not a 'Bag

While we’re waiting for the last few votes in the HCwD of the Week contest (and you can still get your vote in below), here’s another ‘bag /not a ‘bag contest to test your ‘bag hunting skills. That last one was too easy, here’s a tougher call.

There’s a lot I could comment on with this skinny turd, but I’ll leave to you to make the call. Use your eagle eye instincts for spotting douche accoutremonts and pollution of a cutie. Remember, the truth is in the details.

What say you? ‘Bag or Not a ‘Bag?

EDIT: Blogger is acting buggy due to some “maintenance” issue so bear with the software today.

The Beetle's Back

You asked for it. You got it. Another head exploding pic of astounding female hotness comingling with an early stage dung beetle pupae. It hurts and yet it’s fantastic. It’s the classic intoxication/rage of the HCwD experience.

Look at the Beetle grinning at you. Smiling as he cups his perfect Eastern European hottie in his arm with that body just built for the DB1 to eat saltines and spill crumbs on it.

And really, what’s better on a Monday than a little more Dung Beetle?

Voting for HCwD is still open people, get them votes in.

The Unholy Choad

Mmm, chicks making out in public, always a fan fave. And yet there’s something bothering me about this pic. I just can’t place it.

Oh wait, yes, I can.

It’s this unholy choad taking up space and oxygen. Choad, take a hint. The ladies aren’t interested in you right now. Go order a Long Island Iced Tea with Truckerbag in the background. The hotties will let you know if they care. Judging by that kiss, they don’t.

Trent Rezknob

Curly Sue cuts a lithe, sultry, cherry popsicle flavor on the dance floor. She’s downtown New York hot. The kind you take to wine tasting events on Ludlow Street before extensive coitus in her studio apartment on Avenue C.

This bearded sasquach makes the DB1 particularly annoyed on a Monday afternoon. I think it’s a particular revulsion with facial pubes that look like wood shavings left over from shop class. And ironed wig-like hair is a definite “+3” hit dice on the dungeons and douchebaggery scale.

I would picnic on hottie’s tablecloth shirt with festive spirits and hearty song.

HCwD of the Week: YoungBag Edition

I’m not including Black Lung in this week’s contest because of his indeterminate, almost Douche Lee level Zen ambiguity. Not to mention I just can’t take looking at those pics for another go around. Speaking of the Zen Master, Douche Lee also doesn’t need to compete in such trifling contests as the HCwDotW contest. His Holy Essence is above such competition. So he gets an automatic pass to the future Hall o’ Scrote.

As to who’s in this week, there are a bunch of pics from last month during the Douchie Awards, but I tried to limit this week’s contest to a balanced playing field of equal contenders. And by “contenders” I mean spew. That being said, lets get to the nominees:

HCwD of the Week #1: Scrotey Opie

As much as we love to mock scrote, we must also factor in the hottie side of the ledger when making our selects for the coveted HCwDotW award. In the case of Scrotey Opie, the HC side definitely elevates this pic into a contender. Don’t get me wrong, Scrotey Opie deserves heaping tablespoons of scorn simply for modeling the greasiest cheekbone since the Jello Wrestling contest down at the “Yellow Banana.” But it’s definitely Librarian Hottie, which as you all know I have issues about, that elevates this pic into a finalist.

Not to mention that fantastic touch of red bra gives the DB1 nasty fever-dreams. Or it could be the Macallan 18-year I had last night.

HCwD of the Week #2: Sketch

Someone in the comments thread observed the cheesy feathering that was done on this pic, and that’s an interesting meta-dynamic of a HCwD pic that I’d never considered. It actually suggests that someone wanted to preserve this “memory” in a thoughtful and soft nostalgic hue. This image. This one. The one you’re looking at.

I have a few more Sketch pics to run in the next few days, so methinks whether he wins the coveted HCwDotW or not, he’ll enjoy a nice rep on the site for awhile.

HCwD of the Week #3: Popeye

When it comes to core budding douchitude, it’s hard to get past the spikey/pop combo, especially when the pudwacker is making ‘Bag Face #05. Factor in the pollution of a sexy wholesome midwestern “Diane” (see Johnny Cougar’s classic 1981 hit, “Jack and Diane”), and this pic is a worthy finalist as well.

All three of these HCwDotW finalists fall along a similar theme: The YoungBag polluting a hottie that deserves better.

Like a night out with the DB1.

In which I’d treat them to a double-double at “In-n-Out.” Then we’d walk to the nearest 7-11, where I would buy them a four-pack of tasty Hostess Ho-Hos. After that, back to my hovel, where we’d sit on my floor and watch episodes #1-#5 of The Ben Stiller Show (the classic from 1992). Followed by a weekend of my fondling their tennis shoes, wearing a diaper and asking them to spank me with a table tennis paddle. I mean really, what more does a hottie want?

Okay, enough of my Monday morning ramblings. What say you? Who’s the winner this week?

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

The Wooo State

I’ve written previously on the “Wooo! State,” (W.S.) a mild hysteria usually exhibited in a young adult female upon entering an excited sexual state with potential mating ramifications. The Wooo State usually, but not always, manifests in groups of females gathered together as the necessary component of the secondary and tertiary stages of the mating call. The Wooo State emits as a primal guttal noise very similar to anuran amphibians like the iguana’s dewlap. Letting out a series of “Wooo!” mating cries, each female signals the drunken male to approach and reciprocate his interest through the following three mating call responses:

1. “Hey.”
2. “What’s up?”
3. “Want another Miller Lite?”

See Exhibit A, shown here. Once the male has reciprocated interest, the female can either accept or reject the male’s mating overture. The female rejects the male’s offer of a red cup of Miller Lite/sex by continuing to emit the “Wooo!” sound as she rejoins the female pack, or she accepts the overture with the following mating call response:

1. “I’m like sooooo drunk.”

However the W.S. also has ramifications of douchebaggery outside of its direct use as mating signifier. This involves what I’d like to term the “Primal Douchebag Trauma.” P.D.T. usually occurs in a female around the age of 14 or 15, when she witnesses an older sibling using the Wooo State to attract a douchebag. Once this mating dance is imprinted on the young teenage female, she seeks to replicate the actions on her own once reaching college or the local mall. In this way, douchebag mating dances become replicated through imprint.

But it is important to note that the Wooo State does not automatically indicate a stage of Douche Virus infection on behalf of the female. While there is causality, a female who has been exposed to extensive douchebaggery through a series of boyfriends does tend to engage the Wooo State to an excessive degree, it is not an absolute requisite. Therefore Wooo State can not fully be removed from the realm of a Stage-3 or State-4 Bleeth Infection. It must be factored in, along with dress, hand gestures, and facial sneer, to determine at what stage an adult female has progressed along the lines of rank douchebaggery.

Hot Dog II: Ski Patrol

Yup, the Hot Dogs are back, ready to coral necklace it up in the wackiest college Ski Party since those mid 1980s movies that Siskel & Ebert gave a “1/2 star” to. All this pic needs is the hilariously goofy sidekick with the irreverent one liners to run in, chug a beer, and tell them they have to win the big race tomorrow against Brad and Chip, the evil ski instructors who tried to evict their poor Aunt Bertha.

Damn you Brad and Chip!! You’ll get your commupance tomorrow during the big race. But for now, we party.

Sketch II: Clubber Wang

Play that funky music, white douche.

What I want to know, aside from how a scrote this overwhelmingly douchey hasn’t been drowned in a river by now, is what the hell that wall is supposed to be. Is that like club-as-insane-asylum ironic commentary? Or are they partying in an abandoned shock therapy clinic?

Most importantly, the douche-face-o-meter score is off the charts for Sketch in this one. This has to rank slightly above “Want to Punch My Monitor until my Hand is a Bloody Stump,” and slightly below “Want to Insert My Face into an Electric Cheese Grater.” And the dude still can’t figure out how to put on a shirt.

Flair

Thirty seven pieces of flair won’t prevent this toolbag from getting fired from Flingers.

This sultry vixen looks like she got in a car wreck with a third grade art project. However she could be covered in earthworms dipped in arsenic and I’d still watch a sixteen hour marathon of commercial free 7th Heaven episodes from 97 just for the chance to sniff her kitchen’s oven mitts.

Although she does lose points for the star hand tattoo. Ladies, a note for future reference: tattoos go on the lower back. That is all.