Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

HCwDB of the Week: ChandlerBag and the Bumper

Last week was a great week for asses. It also featured some hotties with lovely butts. Yeah, that joke may be vaudeville, but it still works.

ChandlerBag’s Bumper Hottie features the greatest caboose since “The Little Engine that Could” and one of the best ever on the site. I turn it over to the erudite Vinny Scumbaglia to sum it up:

The mighty greasy forehead of Chandlerdouche is a work indeed, and he presents the Mussolini of doucheposturing. His will o’the wisp hair and semi-attempt at some kind of hand gesture are doubly laughable (‘uhh, representing, er… up thatway! yeh, that’s it…”) and the previously noted observation that Bumper must stoop to embrace this scrotewonder seals the package. Were that she were in my hands, the small of her back would bear the texture of that rough stone pillar, and her wan grin instead a gasp of pleasure.

Heh, the Mussolini of doucheposturing. Nicely done, V.S. However, david douchecovney makes a very strong case for The Balcony Bag:

Gotta go with Balc-bag for one very simple reason; football pants..

Hard to debate the uberdouchuousness of the low riding football pants. It didn’t seem Friday Night Blights bothered as many people as it bothered me. Although Voudouche Chile (slight return) picked up on the wrong:

I have to go Blights, vox populi be damned. They’ve achieved what Phil Spector called the Wall of Choad–throw in a string section and they’re going straight to number 1. HC literally has an hourglass figure–you could turn her upside down and use her as a Boggle timer. Replace could with should.

Nicely working in a Phil Spector reference. Lets hope he didn’t take a shotgun to the dark haired cutie after the pic was taken.

But since I’m still hung over from last night’s ride on the 5:01 ‘Train, I’ll simply turn it over to the ubiquitous anonymous for the final word:

Chandlerbag earns my vote for the forehead shine that is shaped like a cartoon penis.

Indeed. Book that caboose a ticket in the Monthly.

Head Assplosion

I really can’t top the last three pics today, so instead I’ll post this group shot of rampant choadosity and highly Grieco infected hotties so we can round off an utterly head assploding Tuesday.

That’s it. I’ve taken today’s postings too far. I know I gotta pace the pics, but hell with it. Crap. Now Wednesday will be a letdown no matter what I post. Oh well. Today was still a fantastic day to salivate over the Hott and rage against the choad.

To celebrate this run of pics, and by celebrate I mean rage against the hottie/’baggy simulacrum I’ve created, I’ve decided to down two quick shots of the Night Train, Dylan Thomas style, at exactly 5:01pm P.S.T. I’ll need it to recover from those last three hottie/douchey exemplars.

Who’s with me? 5:01pm. Toast with me. Toast the Blister’s uberhottie. Toast the Creeps’s, well, creepshow tongue. Toast the club bed. Toast this cavalcade of signifiers of societal rot right here.

What do you say? Lets drink.

The Luckiest Man You'll See Today

Except for The Blister (two pics back), this is the Luckiest Man You’ll See Today. Other then the douche-face expression, he’s not particularly ‘Baggy. Yet he’s surrounded by the Hot. And I’m sitting on my floor picking donut crumbs out of the rug.

Stupid donut crumbs. Won’t someone invent a crumb-free donut?

That looks vaguely like SkyBar, but the “beds in the clubs” thing has been trendy lately, so it could be anywhere. I don’t know whether I support or oppose the bed thing. On the one hand, it’s freakin’ beds in a club. On the other, it means more pics of girls posing provocatively on beds in a club.

Beds in a club. Like snakes on a plane. Or potholes in my lawn.

Ah, screw it, I’ll go with it. I’m pro beds in a club. I’m also pro someone kicking Teddy Boy in the nuts so I can chew on those tanned legs for the remainder of the rainy season.

The Creeps

It’s like the douche equivalent of the alien slugs that jumped mouth to mouth in that classic 80s horror flick, Night of the Creeps.

Now that was a good movie. Unlike the insipid torture-porn idiocy of today’s Hostel sillyness, the 80s knew how to do campy horror both funny and disgusting. And Night of the Creeps had the best alien slugs this side of Douchy McPinkshirt’s alien tongue. And it starred Jason Lively, the Griswald’s kid in European Vacation.

So yeah, alien slugs. That jump into your mouth and lay eggs in your brain until your head splits open and more alien slugs jump out. Good times.

The Blister

One winter when I was a little kid, about six or seven years old, my family took me up to Maine on a ski vacation. We rented one of those small rustic houses with a black wood heat stove in the living room to keep the place warm. Curious by the heating mechanism of the stove, I reached out and touched the stove with my finger to see if it was hot. It was. The pain was excruciating.

About an hour later, a big pus filled blister formed on my finger. I was terrified. I hadn’t seen a blister before. What was this mysterious fluid under my now white skin and would it ever go away?

That’s what this ‘Bag is. A blister. A giant pus filled patch of dead skin.

And I’m not just saying that because he’s pawing the hottest blonde salt water taffy this side of a Cape Cod clambake. Oh wait, yes I am.

The Circus Clown

Looking at this circus clown with dual hottie action is like throwing a cream pie into my face.

If the cream pie were a brick.

And my face were my crotch.

Socrates in San Dimas

I don’t know if that last pic was photoshopped or not, and I’m dizzy and lightheaded from staring at it, so here’s the legendary Socrates with a stripper hottie.

Pumpy II?

EDIT: Forensics indicates this may be the legendary Pumpy himself.

Not sure if Pumpy’s a douchebag, as other than pumped up superhulkedness, he’s generally unassuming and friendly. And I’m not just saying that because he could snap my spinal cord like a popsicle stick and pick his teeth with it after feasting on wildebeast carcass.

She is sweet, blonde Floridian shopping in boca goodness. Which, come to think of it, can be kind of annoying in actuality. But in frozen pixelated silence, it is luscious.

Dolce and Gadouchebag

And while you’re considering your vote for HCwDB of the week, feast on Dolce and Gadouchebag here.

Because it’s not douchey enough that you’re paying for the hottie pic. You gotta bust the DG belt buckle.

New ruling: A DG belt buckle automatically jumps a ‘Bag three levels up the hierarchy to a stage-4 unredeemable steaming pile of douche-choad on a silver platter. Because I like to get scientific like that. It’s a face punch level accoutrement. It makes me want to yank my fillings out with a rusty pliers and gargle lighter fluid.

The only thing saving Smiley McFauxHawk is the lack of ‘Bag hand gestures. But that ain’t saying much. It’s like saying the flesh eating virus isn’t so bad because you won a free French Toast Sticks on your Spiderman3 scratch ticket at Burger King.

I would pound Coors with Brunette Perfection until the sun came up over Santa Monica Boulevard.

HCwDB of the Week

Like a fine wine, a gourmet meal or a whiff of pungent Axe Bodyspray mixed with Old Spice, this week’s HCwDB of the contest features three classic hottie/douchey combos. No singular phenomenon like the Prompa. Just commingling wrongness that makes you want to jump into a spinning airplane propeller to make the throbbing pain of a culture gone horribly horribly wrong finally stop.

But alas, I ramble. For I am merely your guide on this dark journey into the heart of hot-scrote rotations that is the HCwDB experience. So I will shut my hungover yap, and turn it over to you, the reader, for a Roman verdict on these three pics. Thumbs up, thumbs down, or a simultaneous “Westside” and “Shocker.” You make the call.

On that note, and by note I mean setting all of their eyebrows on fire, punching them in the balls and slobbering on their hottie’s knees, I give you the nominees.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Friday Night Blights

I don’t think I fully appreciated the genius of the hottie/douchey wrongness of Friday Night Blights the first time around.

The tri-flavor choad tastes vaguely of week old chicken. And the Jennifer Love Hewitt hottie will always find time on my basic cable package.

I have no idea what that means. And yet it seems to make sense.

Shaved ridges in the head: +2 Douchebaggery on the MagicBags the Gathering trading card.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Balcony Bag

One of the factors in determining the aesthetic value of a HCwDB pic is the unmeasurable factor: The gut punch. What Roland Barthes describes as the punctum.

This factor, what I like to term punctum spew, can not be quantified scientifically, or measured using any systemic analysis. It resides purely in the psychoanalytic. The punctum can be understood as defined by the unique, each person’s individual reaction to a pic’s affect.

Keeping this in mind, Balcony Bag has a punctum affect that, at least for me, rises above the sum of its parts. And by sum of its parts, I mean the rage of low riding football pants on a pungent hand gesturing douchebag.

Her supple skin sends pygmy tribes on fishing expeditions. It is lunchable munchable perfection. I would punctum it, Kobe style.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: ChandlerBag and The Bumper

ChandlerBag certainly has all the measurable factors of a rage inducing smug forehead greased scrotebag with a fantastic hottie by his side. But is he ‘Bag, or simply clown? Or both?

The shirt, the bling, and did I mention the forehead grease, all contribute to a pretty spew worthy pic. But is the punctum’s affect as strong? I’m not sure.

But then there’s the hottie factor. We must never forget that every great HCwDB pic must have both sides of the equation, entwined in a state of oppositional balance. Her fantastic bumper brings joy to the poor and peace to third world nations. The Bumper deserves an award all by itself. And by award, I mean me, staring at it, framed and hung over my mantle.

So them’s the three.

By Wednesday morning, let there be only one. Weigh, judge, discuss and decide. Vote, as always, in the comments thread.