Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Crush

Remember that crush you had when you were 15? The kind when he or she walked into the room, you’d break out in hot sweats, then cold sweats, then feel like vomiting, passing out, and shoving lit matches into your eyelids? Yup, the 10th grade crush sickness. Like a violent cold flu mixed with arousal. Good times.

Brunette Angel here reminds me of Julie, the girl in my 10th grade math class who inspired sensations of jackhammers in my skull and conga line dancing Hawaiians in my upper intestines every time she walked into the room. I’m still not quite sure if I had a crush on Julie or if she transmitted short-term Ebola Virus. I was either hot for her, or allergic to her. Never did quite figure that out.

So you’ll understand when I see a picture of a hottie who evokes my 10th grade crush getting gang tackled by The Croatian Olympic Swim Team, I might be justified in my early morning alcohol binge.

At least, that’s what I told my shrink.

The Empire Scrote

My only question is if you drop a penny off that head, would it pick up enough speed to kill someone down on the ground?

Succulent Malaysian boobies make me long for tropical canopies. Or a tasty bowl of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes.

Because it’s morning, and until I have my cup of coffee, my boobie interest is trumped by my sweet sugary breakfast cereal interest. It’s not that my infant-like fixation on perfect round breasts goes completely away. Only that it backgrounds until about 10am, after the sugar kicks in. On the other hand… boobies.

Playbag

PIC DELETED

Answering the question once and for all: Is it possible to attend a Playboy pajama party and still come off looking like a grinny tool?

Why yes. Yes it is.

Is Teethy an actual ‘bag? Probably not. But dammit, I went on Playboy Radio, how come I can’t get an invite to the Mansion?

GuidoBag Pre-Game Ritual

Be warned.

This ethnographic footage may be grainy and hard to see, but it is as historically vital to our understanding of primitive cultures as was Flaherty’s Nanook of the North in 1922. This brief but troubling clip of Guidos in their natural habitat, preparing for coital dance rituals as a way to mark territory and establish dominance, is an invaluable piece of indexical record. Watch as they amp up the Griecdrenoline and prepare to grease all over the tasty snowballs of cute in the clubs. This clip is not for the faint of heart, nor the unspiked of follicle.

Be warned. I give you Douchebagsus Guidosus in their natural habitat.

King D the IV

The King is very upset over his loss in the monthly. He’s been rending his garments and hanging his jesters all morning. So in the interests of restoring peace to his ‘bag kingdom, I’ve agreed to let King D drop by and voice his pleasure as only a Shakespearean ‘Bag can:

——-
King Douchuous IV: We few, we greased up few, we band of douchebags;
For he to-day that sheds his bodyshots with me
Shall be my fellow ‘bag; be he ne’er so stinky,
This day shall gentle his conditioner;
And ‘bags in the clubs now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their bling cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Douchebags’s day.
——-
Well said, King Douchuous. And congrats on those two Russian maiden girls of ignoble birth you’ve captured. And my condolences on your retarded prince brother.

Pocahontas II: Electric Bagaloo

I’ll say this for Disney. When they make a sequel to an animated film as popular as Pocahontas, and they decide to go for the PG-13 teen generation with a hip-hop grunge tip, they do it in true style.

How will Pocahontas find a way to liberate her large healthy tatines from this predicament? When did John Smithbag start featuring neck tats that resemble the creepy fungus on Beetlejuice?

Yes kids, it’s Pocahontas II: Electric Bagaloo.

Coming soon, to a club near you.

Chicken McDouchebags

Shirtless low hanging jeans uberchoad and his Snake Pliskin shirted chin pubed friend both need to be dropped in a fryer at McDonalds and turned into crispy Chicken McDouchebags.

Country/Western hottie can ride ’em in, roll ’em out my Rawhide with Donald “Duck” Dunn and Matt “Guitar” Murphy backing me up, and Elwood on harmonica. Four fried chickenbags and white toast. Dry.

Wednesday Limerick

There once was a ‘bag named Carl Hungus,
Who grew out his facial pube fungus,
The gel on his head,
Looked like moldy bread,
His hottie said,” there’s a douchebag among us.”

HCwDB of the Month: Trainwreck

This is more a coronation than a victory lap for The Trainwreck. Just a totally dominant performance from one of the most insanely surreal combos of sugarplum hotness and ridiculous douchebaggery we’ve ever featured on the site. And by dominant, I mean ass crack.

Snuggles gets hotter every time I look at her. Even her expression is adorable. I would filter her through tea leaves and enjoy with a touch of honey. I would reenact the Bataan Death March in New Zealand with stuffed pandas if I could sign her peace treaties.

And Trainwreck himself sports so many ‘bag signifiers he’s like a George Seurat painting. If the dots of paint were douchebaggery dots.

As dita von douche sums it up:

he makes me want to convert to Catholicism so that I can enter a convent, take a vow of celibacy, and never venture into the outside world where I can come into contact with his douchiness.

Well said, Dita. The Hate Crime breaks down the four finalists and rolls Trainwreckery for the win:

Joe Douche is disqualified for his quasi-celebrity status on E!.

Trainwreck is rolling through to the year-end competition, and Vegas has him at 5-1 to win it all.

Nice overview, THC. And as we’ve learned by now, the power of the DB rises directly in relationship to his scroteyness in the presence of the hottie. This inter-relationship is key to the experience of any award winning HCwDB pic. Or, as anonymous sums it up:

This guy is a repeate offender of the ‘Doggie-bag’; that very same all encompassing, revolting, retch-inducing position that he has come to be known by. Honestly, the doggie-bag makes the bag-headbutt/ bag hand gesture combo look like an enlightened act of non-douchitude in comparison. So the fact that he was pictured preforming the dreaded doggie-bag move twice is akin to Wilt Chamberlin putting up 100 points on 2 seperate occasions.

Trainwreck in a bagslide

A bagslide indeed. I almost wonder what would’ve happened if Trainwreck had gone up against Peaches doucho-a-doucho. Maybe next week we’ll do a one off and put the two up in a ‘Baggle Royale cage match with the ethereal and ambiguous Douche Lee as our referee.

Regardless, lets raise the wristdana and the Doggie ‘Bag maneuver to the rafters, for Trainwreck has proven his worth and emerged victorious. Or as Tom Choad puts it:

Trainwreck and Snuggles. No contest, sir. They’re all loathsome (especially Joe Douche) but Trainwreck is an uberchoad.

He makes me want to punch him, and I’m a Buddhist.

Well said, Tommy C. Well said indeed.