Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Yo, Adrian!

Cue Stallone jokes in three… two… one…

Rumbledouche

I’ve been staying away from the costume party pics lately, because anyone can appear douchey when it’s dressup time, but this chinned out tweezer definitely qualifies for uber-douche status no matter the dressup. He’s like an extra from that classic early 80s film, “Rumbledouche.” I never did get Coppolla’s teen-douche film period.

As to Cate Blanchett Hottie, there’s a word that comes to mind that says it all, really. I speak, of course, of the word boobs.

I will dream of satin pillows in a field of bouncy mellons. Then I will dream of kicking Kobra Kai in the nuts.

T 'Bag says "Thanks!"

T ‘Bag brought two douchebag friends of his to thank you again for voting him the HCwD of the Week. As a gift for your support, The T Stooges here have convinced two cuties to make out.

I think we owe these three knobs a round of thanks. And by thanks I mean a collective loogie at their faces.

Although I’m not quite sure how we’d form a collective loogie. Any ideas?

HCwD of the Week: T' Baggin'

The power of boob compels you.

Furry Men have been making a comeback in the douche canon lately, between this guy and Harry Beaver. T ‘Baggin is a rare example of a facially pubed up hair ‘bag molesting a girl, who quite simply shouldn’t exist in the same universe as his furry ass.

As Otto Graf von Douchemark broke down all three candidates:

This is a tough one but in the end I have to go with TBag. Following the anger-approach he simply sends the bar on the facepunch-O-meter right through the roof.

So its #1 Tbag

Nicely done, OG von D. And then there’s mickey o’douche, who throws some spew towards Scrotey Star Pin Diesel and his fledgeling douche-acting career:

#2 chronicles of riddouche. on the basis of the coma face alone. take away all the other douchey accoutrement — the sea anemone gel hair, the jesus bling, the salmon t-shirt with customized douchey message, the utter cheesiness of mixing bling and a t-shirt — and just the face alone makes sane men want to push their heads through walls. There are corpses in morticians’ lounges that show more signs of life than this scrote….?

So true, Mickey. So true. The everpresent anonymous dedicates the following poem to Pin D:

That vacant stare,
That Hiroshima Hair,
The earring,
The Jesus bling,
The spray-on tan
The T-shirt slogan
That Axed-out, sprayed on, pungent libido–
The calling card of the New Jersey Guido
Get thee back to the Jersey Shore
And darken my dreams no more, man whore.
For making me rhyme like Dr. Seuss
I condemn thee to infamy, Chronicles of Riddouche.

Nicely done, unnamed poster. “Darken my dreams no more, man whore.” Yowza.

However, Doc, Mitch Meats and count douchula all threw in with Full Frontal ‘Baggitude, going back for the classic ‘roided up Jersey scrote. I just couldn’t bring myself to make that pic a finalist, but maybe they’re right. The rage factor induced by that pirate tattooed wonton is definitely high.

But in the end, the facial scrote and the hotness of T ‘Bag was too much. Musclehead breaks it down for the style of the T:

The ultimate in douchiness. Not only does he keep it wangsta, but he comes correct with GHB and a friend with a camera to document the atrocities. Alas, he has one chink in his douchey armor, to which I offer this advice- “act like you’ve been there before.”

Give it up to T.B. A well earned victory.

Creepy McCheese

The rare parallel ‘bag headbutt, headlock and Douche Lick Gesture #02 make Creepy McCheese here a classic douchefart. He’s that dude in 7th grade who grew up too quickly and was already like six feet tall and shaving while the rest of us were still figuring out how our equipment worked. By 11th grade he already looked like he was 30 and worked in a gas station. You know that guy.

Arty Hottie’s got a bit of that East Village 80s Glam vibe, a sort of white Grace Jones thing working, but I kinda dig it. Not to mention Sonny Bono Fur Vest is all good. Is she Bleethed out like a post 90210 Brenda Walsh? Absolutely. Does it bother me? Not enough to stop me from busting a flying drop kick on Creepy McCheese, Karate Champ style.

Double Douchey Style

It’s hard coming down off the utter wrongness of Harry Beaver, but a large bowl of Count Chocula just did wonders. Sort of cleaned out the bile and gave me a nice sugar rush.

So there I was, sitting on my couch. Relaxing. Listening to some Curtis Mayfield. When suddenly this pic manifests like some unholy demon creature from the Douche Lagoon.

I can’t even tell what’s going on here. I’m overwhelmed by stench. From Scarface to tonguebags, to the rare Dual ‘Bag Body Slam that hasn’t been choreographed with such precision since the ’72 Scrotlympics, it is a double douchebag smackdown of epic proportions. I can’t tell whether the cuties are too far gone to be saved. I only feel shame for all of us. There is no God.

I want to break out the firehose, fire it at these two unnatural pre-coitus teen abominations, then turn that water gun on myself until the slime is gone from my eyeballs. Which might take awhile.

Harry Beaver

I’m pleased as punch to see Harry Beaver’s found himself a mate. Now all he has to do is carry her back up the Appalachean trail and romance her with fermented berry wines and Clif Bars and she’ll be his forever.

Good on you, Harry Beaver!!

Mmm… firm fleshy buttocks. Yuck… Harry Beaver’s douchey hand on firm fleshy buttocks. Urge to kill rising. Rising. Falling. Rising.

Ass Pimple

This douched out WWF wannabe had to pollute this sexy candy stripe nurse. He’s like an inflamed ass pimple perched on the buttocks of humanity. In the swirling vortex of genetic evolution, Ass Pimple is the random combo of all the douchey genes on the fringe of the homo sapien species.

And yet he pulls Helen Hunt Hottie. While glaring at the camera like a ‘roided up tight end who just got cut from the Peoria Plant Potters.

S’okay, A.P. You had to know your WWF/NFL careers wouldn’t work out. To quote the great Ted Knight, the world needs ditch diggers too.

Fugnaut Sandwich

Fugnaut says, “Don’t forget to vote for the HCwD of the Week!”

Fugnaut

I had a hard time coming up with just the perfect name for this raging college pimple. But then it came to me, large glowing letters that appeared on floating clouds in front of my hazy alcohol infused vision: Fugnaut.

Maybe it was what alcoholics call a moment of clarity. But there it was. Fugnaut.

Like Dirk Diggler before me, I had a vision. And that vision was of the Fugnaut. Some prophets see world peace. I see skeezed out lime green fratdouches. I have problems.