Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Chucky

It’s bad enough that uber-scrotes are out there patrolling the clubs and polluting the hotties, but possessed demonic dolls? It’s one thing to star in cheesy 80s horror films, it’s another to dye your hair black, put on a suit and mack on a gorgeous ball of blond love who may or may not be related to a famous party girl actress.

Seriously Chucky, didn’t a scream queen machete you in the face in the last installment of the series: “Chucky VII: Chucky Douches Out”? Or is this like a “Freddy Vs. Jason” thing where Chucky takes on an uber-hot party girl with fantastic steak tar tar ta tas, only to be forced to fight Pumpy in a made for ancillary XBox sales duel to the finish?

I’d love Party Blonde in ancient Greek ways that would get me thrown in jail in Texas.

Fluffy Boy

I don’t quite know what’s going on here. I don’t want to know what’s going on here.

But there’s one thing I do know, fluffy boy.

When they suggest you do tequila shots on your back while pulling up your muscle shirt to resemble a bra, know this. The hottie taking your pic thinks you’re a douchebag.

And hey, what do you know? She’s right.

Now guzzle the lime, putz.

Truck Head

It’s hard to count the varieties of douche manifest within this pic. Once 10 degree trucker cap met popped collar, ‘bag hand gesture and scrote face, all in the presence of this sultry brown eyed girl, all motor functions left my bowels.

I would rotate Truck Head on a grill spit and baste with L.A. Looks gel until his facial goo melted.

Then I would build large talisman structures on remote tropical islands in her honor to confuse future generations of archeologists.

She is just hot perfection, right up the DB1’s alley. Slap a pair of librarian glasses on this one and I’d definitely consider a short, stormy marriage followed by a drawn out divorce in which she would take half my bank account while dating Erno, the German video performance artist from Ludwigsburg. It would be worth it just to darn her socks for a fortnight.

Wee Willy Wanker

And while we’re recovering from a hard fought HCwD of the Month contest, Wee Willy Wanker here wanted to pop in and tell you what he thinks of you.

He’s like a douche chaser. Helps cleanse the palette. Like gari, the pickled ginger you eat between pieces of sushi to clean the tongue and prepare for the savory tastes of the next piece of fish. In this case, that piece of fish is actually a flaming ball of ‘bag.

HCwD of the Month: Pumpy

Excellent analysis, deconstruction and debate in the comments thread, props to all for bringing their A-game to our parsing of the cultural narratives and forces of hegemony that conspire to create the dominant and oppositional HCwD discourses of our day. From Derrida to Proust, from string theory to post-feminism and third wave gender analysis, we must dig ever deeper to expose the forces at work that lead to such unholy, and douchey, comingling like the four featured in this month’s contest.

As to questions about Donkey Douche, the D.D. has already ascended into the Scrote pantheon, there is no need for his greatness to trifle with the mere mortal hottie/douchey combos that must compete for our attention and our votes in this contest. Don’t cry for him, Dario Argento. For he will remain with us, haunt our dreams, at least until the crazy ghost killer shows up in the final reel.

Stupid late night horror on HBO.

The monthly voting basically came down to T ‘Bag and Pumpy, with Beastie simply not rising the blood pressure enough to cause a ripple and StewBag’s Maggie perhaps throwing off the curve with her defense of her douchetraction tendencies in the comments thread. As to Pumpy, he crushed the competition like only a Douchezilla can. Like the first icon of the raving roidbag to appear on the site, Old No. 7 aka Cro Bagnon, Pumpy’s sheer simian force and the cuteness of his innocent hottie was just too much to overcome.

greekbag sums up why Pumpy can ascend to the douche pantheon with barely a scrote accessory on him:

From the moment I saw Pumpy, I recognized his greatness. He is the Proto-Douche in the new wave of Roid ‘Bags that is sweeping the nation today. Look at this guy’s hands! One is almost entirely covering her right side while the other one has gone in for one of the most egregious boob grabs this side of T-Bag. And his hottie is excellent. She’s no Maggie, but she’s perky enough to make me dream about eating soft shell crab off of her stomach and then taking a long nap in between her beautifully crafted silicone chest…

I vote for pumpy

But that’s not to say the T Bag didn’t also find some love, and by love I mean Fruit Loops. david douchecovney brings some stellar analytics to his deconstruction and winds up casting in with the T Bagger:

Within this set of specimens there are actually TWO subsets. The first being the combination yam grab/moronic facial configuration exemplified by Tbag and Pumpy. The second subset can be characterized by having only one distinctive douche trait. Beastie has the ‘bag hand gesture & nothing more to recommend him. Stewy has his hair. I have taken the hotness of the hot chicks as given in all cases.

Seriously you guys . . . hate . . . that . . . guy.

I hear ya D.D. (and I don’t mean the Donkey). danny bonnadouchey agrees, and sums up the wrongness:

T’Bag ruins this picture. Everytime I try to focus on those amazing boobs, I see someone’s hand limply grasping one. “Who’s hand is that?”, I ask. My eyeline then raises to meet T’Bag. It settles first on his gaping maw, emitting a velociraptor-like screech of elation at touching those fantastic boobies. I then meet his gaze, his red eyes burning me like two hot coals of baggery. I finally take in the hat. The straight-brimmed, two sizes too large hat.

I’m going to go lay down in front of traffic now.

To offer the female perspective on the ‘bag boob grope #02, fanny double douche had this to say:

if that were my funbag he was groping, you’d need a barrel of crisco to make my passion fruit work again. so, my vote is for t-bag.

But Otto Graf von Douchemark takes it home for Pumpy:

Im gonna cut it short this time: Its Pumpy.

And so we raise Pumpy’s stretched out jersey to the rafters. It was a hard fought HCwD of the Month contest, but Pumpy prevailed. Props to ‘bag hunter danny bonnadouchey for finding the pic, and props to all for the excellent comments and voting. I thought the Ghost could’ve given Pumpy a run for his money, but that’s the way the forehead grease drips.

To quote the great Jean Baudrillard, who sadly passed away a few days ago:

The liberated man is not the one who is freed in his ideal reality, his inner truth, or his transparency; he is the man who changes spaces, who circulates, who changes sex, clothes, and habits according to fashion, rather than morality, and who changes opinions not as his conscience dictates but in response to opinion polls.

However, since you just read that on a computer screen, it may not have really taken place. Rest well, Baudrillard. The simulacrum remains.

10 Things I hate About Douche

#10: Oiled up Mugs
#9: Guys who look like Jim Carrey on Acid
#8: The Shirtless women who love them
#7: Shirtless ‘bags
#6: Sweat pants
#5: I’m completely out of attributes to comment on with this pic
#4: Damn, how many more do I have to make up to get to #1?
#3: Almost there…
#2: White Bandanas
#1: This guy

Plastic Man

You know, some days I wake up and feel infused with divine purpose. I want to change the world. Save orphans from drowning and plant trees in the rain-forest. Feed a homeless man or simply smile at a nun.

Other days I want to get my tongue pierced, put on mascara and lick a cutie’s chin.

But it looks like Plastic Man beat me to it.

Oh well. Maybe I can clean a penguin instead.

Say Challo to his Little Friend

Snapped by a reader during a trip to South America, this pic is a nice demonstration of the EuroBag in all his skeezy glory.

Someone needs to corner kick this soccer ‘bag for the underwear display alone.

Spike Returns

Longtime readers might remember Spike from his appearance in Spike and the Sultry Vixen last Fall. Well Top Gun flyboy Spike has returned to douche out for us wearing a lovely red headed bottle of burgundy goodness. Note the same ‘baggy expression, cheesed out glasses and secret longing to take a bubble bath with Tom Cruise.

As to the red wine he’s holding, tight jeans and cleavite and my hangover is almost gone.

Voting for HCwD of the Month will remain open until tomorrow so get yer votes in. And no cheating and voting for the Soc pic. That dude has found HCwD immortality, his place on the douche mantelpiece is secure. We need to raise a new champion to the rafters. And by champion, I mean cocoa puffs.

Smashing Pumpkinhead

And while you’re stewing over the pile of pud presented for your parsing, here’s what may or may not be the hottest Russian defector since Vanessa Angel in Spies Like Us. She is triple shot vodka goodness. And posing with a smirky, lip fungus who may or may not be Scott Weiland’s illegitimate son. There’s a cold war in my pants.

Megods, I’d Marx her Engels. I’d defect her pravda. She warms my Tolstoy with an extra order of bratwurst.

What, so bratwurst isn’t from Russia. Sue me. It’s not like “She warms my Tolstoy with an extra order of Blini” has quite the same ring.

As to Smashing Pumpkinhead, it’s rare that a head forms an off kilter octagon without causing permanent brain damage. It is positively Piscopoian in its freakish oddness. It makes me itch. Make it go away.