Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Friday Haiku

What odor wafts through club?
A breeze, lo! Douchebag presence.
Smells like Hot Pockets.

Father scrote,
recruited some hot chicks.
Jesus bling is back!

— el doucheablo

Obvious to me
That Eminem mated with
Jim Carrey. Made Poo.

— iowabagslayer

brunette’s killer hair
carnivorous and hungry
grr grr grr grr grr

— summer’s eve

rosary bling, eh?
must be the new way to score
those Catholic girls

— lindsay ho-han

White Buckwheat

Tall Hair day here at HCwDB wouldn’t be complete without White Buckwheat, who may go for the record for douched out lightsocket hair of the month.

You know what, White B.? There comes a point when maybe too much is enough. Get thee to a scissors, stat.

Doucheran Doucheran

PIC DELETED

I don’t care what they say about cheesy 80s synth bands, Simon Le Bonbag and Nick Scroades were two visionaries, okay? I mean, look at these lyrics:

I’m on the line,
Douches like slime,
I’m on the douched out hunt for you,
I smell like Old Spice,
My forehead’s like ice,
I’m on the douched out hunt for you,
I’m all made of choad,
I act like a scroad,
Cuz I’m douchey like the Wolfffff…

T-Bag

Since it’s apparently Tall HairBag day here at HCwDB, and we already featured a Will Ferellbag, might as well toss in Vince VaughnBag into the mix. Or that could be the same guy in the ‘Bag Patch, for all I know. Maybe the ‘Bag Patch works like Clark Kent’s sunglasses. By day he’s ‘Bag Patch, by night he’s VaughnBag.

Here’s to you, VaughnBag.

Because you’re so douchey and you don’t even know it.

The 'Bag Patch

Looks like the ‘Bag Patch is making a return to the douchebag arsenal of weaponry. I refer, of course, to that creepy hair stain living fungally upon choadboy’s chin. We saw it with FerrellBag and now here with PudgeBag, busting the greatest Mt. Everest Hair on the site since, well, Mr. Everest.

Any guesses on the vertical measurement from ‘bag patch to top of head? I’m guessing at least 16 inches. 16 inches of pure uncut street scrote. That’s gotta be worth a small fortune in Tag Bodyshot bottles.

Speaking of the Bleethed out hottie on the right, a happy 39th Birthday to Yasmine Bleeth, the Hottie who remains our greatest cautionary tale to warn all hot chicks who dare to cohabitate with douchebaggery for any length of time. Yasmine, I don’t care if prolonged exposure to the Grieco turned you into the Bleeth from which all Bleeths take their name. I’d still love you by candlelight. And by love you, I mean flop sweat while staring at your boobs until you called the cops.

Will FerrellBag

I haven’t seen Will Ferrell enjoying himself this much since I sat through his 90 minute Applebees commercial, Talladega Nights. But I’m not sure what the white fungus is that’s gnawing on green dress cutie’s face. Perhaps one of FerrellBag’s chin pubes leaped over and mutated. Either way, it scares me. Eye fungus chin pubery is no laughing matter.

As to the five all-American perky Delta Delta Deltas, I would read them Kafka until surreal images of fog-lit Prague caused them to question life’s meaning, and then I would suckle on their toes like a nursing lemur.

'Bag / Not a 'Bag

Not sure if William H. MacyBag actually qualifies as ‘Bag. Probably not.

But god damn I’d go through basic training dressed as Richard Simmons in Sweatin’ to the Oldies VII: .38 Special’s Greatest Hits if it meant I could storm their beaches at Normandy, plant my flag at Iwo Jima, and salute their Privates.

At the conclusion of which, I’d expect an honorable discharge.

And after all that, I would, uhm, have sex with them.

Uhm…

Its…

shaking and cowering in the corner

I’m…

head spinning, must find bottle of Night Train to cure the shakes

She’s…

Soooo cold, I’m soooo cold. There is no God.

Gach.

Bags of Steel

I tend to stay away from famous people caught in moments of utter douchebaggery, but Pittsburgh Steelers kicker Jeff Reed getting caught looking like an inflated troll doll the other night has to be site worthy.

Dead Spin is featuring a number of pics with this utterly ripped specimen from the National Football League ‘Bagging it up shirtless and coiffed in some bar.

Wide right, Jeff. Wide right.

Rock and RollBag

Okay, look. It’s bad enough you have drool on your lower lip and are making a douche-face powerful enough to run a Prius, but must you make ‘Bag Hand Gesture #61, the Devil’s Horns?

I’m going to pretend Tiny Redhead with the adorable tongue isn’t making the exact same expression. Instead I will picture her with candycanes and lollipops, dancing through my living room while tossing mixtures of rose petals and jolly ranchers in the air while I roll around in a giant bowl of cheetos and unsold Kelly Clarkson CDs.

Because I’m freaky like that.