Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Basics

A reader commented that we’ve been getting a little esoteric with some of the recent pics, so I thought I’d bring it back down to basics with a reminder of just what the classic hottie/scrotey combo looks like at its core essence.

This is either Joey Porsche or Johnny Blaze, two MySpace stars featured on the site a few months ago. Which one is it? Heck, I can’t tell them apart. The hair grease blinds my higher cognitive functions and makes me want to punch orphans, nuns and a cute baby seal in the nethers.

She’s a short, compact drink of suburban Long Island Iced Tea hotness.

He is wank.

Allow the hottie/greasy aroma to coexist in perfect HCwDB dissonance.

Back to basics, baybee. Back to basics.

Grover

Somewhere, locked deep in a vault in Hollywood, California, Jim Henson’s missing a Muppet.

The Doggie 'Bag Goes Mainstream

Like any new trend, the Doggie ‘Bag maneuver was first introduced into the discourse by the douche trendsetters, the choadwank avant-garde if you will. It was cutting edge douchery. New. A profound shift in how the douchebag/hot commingle on the pre-coital dance stage.

We first saw it with last month’s HCwDB of the Month winner, and apparent trailblazing innovator, The Trainwreck. The Trainwreck was quickly followed by college wanks and fratdouche wannabes. But other masters of douchebaggery also produced important technical innovations with the move, as seen in The Doggie Doucher.

Now, like a new haircut or a new style of clothing, the Doggie ‘Bag maneuver works its way down from the elite of douchebaggery to the masses, where it is copied and mass produced in an ad hoc cultural intertextual refraction.

Yes kids. The Doggie ‘Bag has arrived.

And the Lord saw it. And it was douche.

'Baglings

Note to all aspiring ‘baglings and future hotties currently in high school:

Tampering with the dark arts of douchebaggery is a path that leads only to silly hats and forehead grease. Primitive grunting and short term jobs at Del Taco.

But ‘Bagling in the middle still has hope. His collar has not yet popped like a turkey gauge, therefore his douchitude has not yet reached maturity.

He can still be saved.

Future hotties are underage, so I will simply warn them that exposure to even the young ‘baglings can manifest down the line in strange, awkward, and itchy ways.

Be careful kids. Once you open the ‘bag door, the Griecos come out at night.

Two Beerbags and a Swedish Meatball

It’s important to remember that ‘bags come in international flavors, too. These Euro football playing Old World scrotebags are in classic ‘bag sandwich formation. Note mark of the ‘bag on both foreheads (the cock-n-balls reflection seen in forehead grease).

And of course both are sandwiching around a nice Swedish meatball.

Mmm. Swedish Meatball.

Dig that peek of Holy Cleavite on her right ta. It’s saying “Hallo!! Hallo DB1!! Come hike my Ryfjallet hinterlands!! Come ski the slopes of my Riksgransen!!”

Why yes, Inga. I believe I will.

After kicking Germanic Sloping Brow in his bratwurst.

Jenny

To prevent any more mass suicides or vomitoriums caused by the legendary Uncaped Crusader, Tatman, here’s an absolutely perfect ball of hott with a midly annoying stage-2 wannabe scrotemunch.

I’ll call her Jenny. Because she’s got that everygirl hott that we all lusted after at one point in our lives or another. We all have our Jenny.

Actually, Westside House Painter is more than a little annoying. The more I stare at him, the more I want to grind garlic cloves with his chin.

Tatman Begins

I don’t care what the critics say, Tatman Begins is a quality remake. Far darker, more complex and engaging an origin story than those goofy 1990s versions like Tatman Forever, Tatman Returns and the lesser known Tatman Versus Cro Bagnon.

Vicki Vale Hottie appears to be searching for Tatman’s secret utility belt. A little lower, Vicki. Just below where it reads “I am douche” in scriptive.

Big Poppy

Look, we all know high school sucks. Those awkward teen years struggling to figure out your identity. Running to classes pissed off because nothing makes any sense and your friends all suck.

Writing melodramic love poems in a tiny journal while you sit in the quad during lunch period. Wondering if Mr. Belding were real, would he be douching it up in Vegas?

And then there are the Big Poppys.

Those popular kids who seem to have it all going on. Dating the hottie. Popping the collar and bleaching the hair with the cool factor set on 10.

But is it really set on 10? Is it really, Big Poppy?

Saved By the 'Bag

Mr. Belding says, “Don’t forget to vote for your favorite HCwDB pic in the Weekly!”

Oh, Mr. Belding.

Making ‘bag hand gesture #93. What would Zach and Kelly think if they could see you now?

HCwDB of the Week: Crabs and Armpits Edition

After a lovely weekend of debauchery, hottie chasing and watching with bemusement at the many L.A. douchebags practicing their game, I found myself ruminating on this week’s selection of hottie/scrotey wrongness. In so doing, I realized I neglected a truly superior pic in last week’s HCwDB of the Week that deserves a fighting chance to ascend to a higher plateau of mockedness. So I’ve included that saltwater taffy generated choad in the mix.

So before we get to the Three, lets take a moment. Breathe in. Breathe out. Gaze at the following three images of sweet fawn and arthritic toad. Which of the three contains just the right mix of anger and arousal, humor and rage, boobies and douchebag?

Then and only then, can one of three rise to the top and be called “Champeen.”

I know what you’re thinking. Shut yer yap, DB1, and get on with it. And so I shall, young spice merchant. And so I shall. The douchinees are:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Gillette Mach Douche

When did our society first steer its ship into the rocky cliffs of cultural douchebaggery?

I’d say a good guideline was when men started getting barbed wire tats and shaving their armpits. Right there, we have a problem. A major problem.

I mean really. Take a look at this dude. As hard as it is, keep looking. Creepy cheekboned Tommy Lee JonesBag here makes me all sorts of vomitorious with his shiny forehead, uberdouche muscle-t, and well, douche everything.

And then there’s Lovely Fawn.

Lovely Fawn is the antithesis of the rank spew.

Lovely Fawn cooks the DB1 scrambled eggs and brings him the funnies to read after a night spent rubbing his thighs with goat yogurt and doing the watusi on his back.

I can’t see how I missed this pic in last week’s Weekly spew-off. This is a classic HCwDB pic. It brings up the bile. It features a girl-next-door West Hamptons debutante hott. And, like any special ‘bag, he introduces us to new facets of douchebaggery with the underarm shave + proud reveal ‘bag move. Yech.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Lip Tatter

Rare are the purely headshot pics able to make it into the Finals. Usually you need at least some glimpse of side-boob, legs or curvy round ass cheek that I would lead a small but cunning group of ninja warriors into to fight for the survival of the western world.

But Lip Tatter has it all.

The 10 Degree Hat Tilt.

The Chin Pubes.

The Douche Face you want to pelt with garbage then hook off-stage.

And, of course, one of the hottest hotties ever to grace the DB1’s perverted fantasies involving latex, pretzels and a small orphan child named Seamus. Then factor in that she’s reaching over and revealing his lip tatt. Reaching over. And revealing his lip tatt. Is it a real tat? Does it matter?

Real or not, douche affect remains polluting our culture with toxic spew like a rusty Edsel without a muffler. And if you think that’s a lame metaphor, I’ve got plenty where those came from. I can simile the homile like an erudite Steven Hawking on red bull.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Crustacean

If you like your hotties multiple, archetypal and anorexic in a good way, then the Crustacean is for you.

This asswad has appeared on the site before more than a few times. His Miami beach douched out ridiculousness has shown up in more variations than Alec Guinness in “Kind Hearts and Coronets.”

Obscure reference? Perhaps. But I would simply point you to striped boobies hott on the right. They are luscious like firm ripe nectarines.

Oh. And she’s pointing. To. His. Abs.

I wonder if the hott quotient is so high in this pic that it almost obscures the rank smell of douchosity coming from Ab Crustacean. Five young females I would marry, have children with, then abandon at a truck stop in rural Illinois, are almost enough to cover his Puma Douche completely.

Almost. But not quite.

So them’s your three. Three enter. Only one pic survives.

Remember, before you vote, it is the combo of douche + hotness. Spew and innocence. Yin and Yang. Beef and broccoli.

What say you? Vote, as always, in the comments thread. Tell me why your pic deserves to call itself “HCwDB of the Week.”