Thursday, August 9, 2007

    Takedowns


    Two back to back takedowns and it’s not even 9am yet. Dammit.

    And I was feeling good this morning. Woke up with nary a headache after last night’s mass consumption of Stella. How she got into my pajamas, I’ll never know.

    —-
    Take my picture off of this site. I don’t know who submitted it, but it is not their property. I did not give consent which makes this illegal. It is the picture of a guy with a bullet necklace and his tongue sticking out and two girls, one blonde and one brunette.
    —–

    Don’t you love it when hotties get descriptive. “It is the picture of a guy with a bullet necklace and his tongue sticking out”. Exactly, sweetie. Props for spelling words correctly but really, it wasn’t like shirtless bullet necklace ‘bag didn’t deserve a little mocking. I mean come on now. Even you key in on the bullet necklace. Doesn’t that tell you we have a douche problem here?

    Then we have this much nicer request:

    —-
    Douchebag1,

    Always been a fan of your site until i found myself on it. haha although i would like to see some of the choads living in their mothers basement who jerk off to the girls on your site i was bummed to find my picture plastered and compared to some of the other bags of douche which hang in your hallowed halls. any chance you can remove my picture? let me know.

    thanks.

    -A.
    —-

    He was referring to Wednesday’s Limerick, and I have to say that he did appear to barely be ‘bag to begin with (I was just hot for those twins).

    So two pics lost to the ether. Instead I’ll post this one of a pre-coital primitive mating dance between the ‘bag and the hott in someone’s frat-kitchen. Note the twin Red Cups watching over them like Monoliths. Do you think fratchoad’ll discover a bone can be used as a tool?

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, August 9, 2007

    Frosty in the Age of Enlightenment


    We haven’t had a true tonguebag in awhile. Those oily choads right on the edge of douchebaggery who you’re not quite sure about. Is the the douche in the PG-13 movie everyone’s rooting for? Or the douche in the R movie you want to kick in the nads?

    Yup, Frosty raises the ire on a Thursday like House of Pain and making Wayne Gretzky’s head bleed.

    Inflated Pretty Little Baby should be deployed in case of a water landing, but I still like that goofy awkward smile.

    Okay, that’s enough Swingers references for this, or any other Thursday. I need no cinematic quote to restate my desire to kick Frosty in the nads. I will simply state that I want to kick Frosty in the nads.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    Lip Tatts


    When being approached by a goddess of a young female with perfect features and velvet hair, do you:

    A. Make small talk
    B. Ask her if she’d like a drink
    C. Compliment her clothes
    D. Ask her to read your lip tatt

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    Wednesday Limerick

    PIC DELETED

    Some scientists at Stanford theorize,
    That mutations in douchebags arise,
    Through follicle reach,
    Towards hottie hair bleach,
    And proof that their face attracts flies.


    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    Doggie 'Baggin Spreadin'


    ‘Bag headbutts are so May of 2007.

    Meet the new douche. Same as the old douche. Nice headphones, lead singer of “Fine Young Cannibals” scrote.

    Asian Hottie looks vaguely embarrassed, and so I will forgive her this transgression by letting her rub my shoulder blades with Tea Tree Oil then donning a Little Bo Peep outfit while I gargle with thumbtacks and spank myself with a licorice whip.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    Rodin's The Doucher Revisited

    PIC DELETED

    In the comments thread for the previous pic, Rodin’s The Doucher, reader lorok posits the following query:

    ———
    DB1, it seems that we have neglected something for quite some time. This occurred to me in a flash while I was pondering my vote for the weekly. The Hott is the problem, not the douche. If the Hott would stop encouraging the douche, the douche would eventually die off. Today, I hate not the douche, today I hate the Hott that breeds the douche
    ———

    Excellent point, lorok. A few months back we were making some inroads in examining the resultant affect that Hott Selection plays in the douching process of the tricked out scroteball male.

    While in many ways there is a feedback loop of positive reinforcement taking place between the douchey waxball and the leggy balls of boobage which he pursues, we cannot discount ultimate blame: Douchebaggery lies with the douche. However, the Hott’s encouragement, the sad selection process by which inverted Darwinianism leads to shlubby fratchoads like the tonguedouche pictured here, must also be factored in.

    Where do we draw the delineation between scrotebaggery’s ultimate responsibility for itself, and when do we begin to blame the sweet ambrosia scent of the hotties for atttracting so many douche-bees to its aromatic pleasures?

    There are no clear answers to be drawn from this discourse. We must meditate and contemplate the ‘bag/hott interweave, its Douche-Yin and Douche-Yang alternation, in its totality. The answers are not clear cut. They lie within psychoanalytic comprehension, not taxonomical deconstruction.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    A Thought


    Shaving my chest is hot, right?

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, August 8, 2007

    HCwDB of the Week: The Choadmonster


    This week’s finalists split votes practically right down the middle, and by middle I mean split-lip herps, with all three finding proponents of their hottie/douchey contradictions to merit support for a Finals Win.

    But in the end the punch-worthy face of The Choadmonster, as well as his precious lithe nectarine hottie in the middle, was a toxic combo too strong to overcome.

    douchius malfoy breaks down the finalists:

    Snowflake exceeds the other two in douchosity,but he looks so over-processed that I bet he at least smells pretty.

    Choadmonster evokes a perfume mingling sweat, beer, Irish Spring, with a faint hint of cigar smoke, and a prickly hint of ass stink. He definitely achieves true scrotitude, but, alas, he still appears to shower–if only occasionally…and by occasionally, I mean probably once in a fortnight.

    Therefore, measuring on a scale of intensely foul Perfume Le Douche, my vote goes to Electric ‘Bagaloo. His neck skin betrays startling fungal growth, and I’m certain some truly putrid sweat pools hide beneath those barely-concealed shoulders.

    Douchius M wasn’t the only fan of the combo hott/tatt wrongness of our latest ambiguously Indian Princess. As ‘bagamemnon puts it:

    Only one of the choads make me want to grab the first DiMarini I can find and and send his head into the cheap seats, and that would have to be ‘Bagaloo. That and I’m diggin’ on Pocahooter’s wampums.

    Funny, but there isn’t a single 10 degree hat to be found in this week’s choices. Just an observation.

    Nice catch, ‘bagamemnon. But while Douchius and ‘bagamemnon cast in with The Electric ‘Bagaloo, the hotness of Pocahontas II wasn’t enough to capture the win. Rounding out the three, ‘bag to the bone was captivated by the absurdities that argue against both intelligent design and evolution found in The Crystalline Snowflake:

    Snowflake (Don King in photonegative) in a runaway. Canola oil facial, retro pleather David Soul jacket over forced-open Boca Raton retiree shirt revealing shaved pecs is the pinnacle of choadiness. I would rather lance an infected hemorrhoid with a plastic cocktail fork and squat over a pan of alcohol than look at his scrote face another second. And yet I can’t look away.

    Nice verbal shredding, B to the B, although I’m not sure I quite needed that imagery so early this morning. But in the end, this was Choady’s week. As ol’ dirty douchebag puts it:

    It’s close between Bagaloo and Choadmonster. Both have the requisite characteristics for the title. Bag hand, grease, doucheface, scrote tats. The whole package. However, I can not figure out what the vertical stripe, herpes, disfigurement, lip ring scar, etc. is on Choady’s lower lip so I’ll cast my ballot for ChoadMonster.

    Well said, O.D.D.

    Give it up to Choadmonster, and book his confused, befuddled, semi-conscious mug a ticket in the Monthly Finals.

    And by punch him a ticket, I mean punch him in the scrotum. With a giant hacky sack.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, August 7, 2007

    Some 'Bag


    Very few people know that the original ending of Charlotte’s Web featured Charlotte writing “Some ‘Bag” in her web.

    But then E.B. White’s publisher got concerned that young children might not find a story about a friendship between a spider and a raging pimpled hip-hop wiggadouche in Bono sunglasses quite so heartwarming.

    Sultry Leopard Hottie makes me want to climb barbed wire fences dressed as Bruce Lee in “Game of Death” only to face off with Kareem Abdouche Jabbar for nunchuck supremacy. After vanquishing Jabbar by playing to my strengths, singing and songwriting, I would suckle Leopard Print hottie’s big toe while crying “Maammaa” in a weird falsetto voice until David Lynch called cut.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, August 7, 2007

    Where's Crustacean?


    Somewhere in this gaggle of Woo!-Hotties and roasted almond douchewanks, I’ve carefully hidden a creepy crustacean sea monster.

    Look closely.

    Can you find him?

    # posted by douchebag1
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