Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Sneaky Businessman From Indiana

I don’t know what you’re up to, Sneaky Businessman From Indiana.

But it’s trouble.

Is he ‘bag? Perhaps not, although the two-tone Regis Philbin shirt-and-tie color scheme makes my crotch itch flare.

But each of these pouty hotts needs my attention. And by attention, I mean deep philosophical interest in their well being. And by deep philosophical interest in their well being, I mean spanking them lightly with a Connect Four until adorable shades of the lightest pink rise up and sing sonnets from “Godspell.”

Vaudeville Joke #178

Q: Excuse me Miss, but what’s that douchebag doing in your Jacuzzi?

A: The ‘bag stroke.

Ferrigno 'Bag

One of the subcategories of ‘bag that is usually found in the greater Vegas area is the Ferrigno ‘Bag.

This is a douche-pud caught in mid morph between everyday Bruce Banner and The Metro Gender Confused Hulk. Somewhere in the nethers between the two states.

And by nethers, I mean nads.

Note Ferrigno Tool’s Mark of the ‘Bag on the forehead. The distinct shine that resembles schlong-n-balls. The spiritual marking of “Choad” is undeniable.

Angelic ski-slope-nose hottie has the perfect tiny chin of boobal perfection. I would share my teka maki, rainbow roll and Pino Grigio with her at Crazy Fish until she started complaining about how her father never loved her and her agent only sends her out for Skinimax “tastefully topless” acting roles.

Then I would pay the bill, drive her home, and hit on her roommate.

Ask DB1

j writes in:

—-
DB1,

Yours truly,
j in Dallas (p.s Dallas is a very under appreciated bag breeding ground)
—-

This is an excellent question, j in Dallas, and I would disagree that Dallas is underappreciated for its scrotal breeding grounds. Dallas is in the Top 6 Origination locations of Douche Virus outbreak (the others being Chicago, Las Vegas, Miami, Orange County and New Jersey).

But to answer your question, due to the less than twenty year manifestation of the modern Douche Virus and douche/hott commingling, there really aren’t enough test cases to examine next-generation douchal offspring.

Hence it is entirely possible that a child product of choad and Bleeth could indeed end up surviving well past infancy without any collar popping to speak of.

However, parents do reinforce patterns of behavior, and by behavior I mean chest shaving, so if the parents are douche-parents, the children are more likely to follow in their scrotey footsteps. But it is not guaranteed.

Next Generation ‘baggery still needs to play out. But I will be observing. And by observing, I mean mocking.

The Official "Time To Get Drunk, It's Friday" Pic

I…

The…

Kafka…

It…

Mmm… strawberries.

Friday Haiku

Birdy tatt flies… flies…
Upon douchechoad’s chest, it lands.
Tiki God angry.

Totem god please help
rid us of horrid tat bag
Chomp in two with teeth.

— spinnaker chick

Inked choad puffs menthol
as cross and dog tag collide
baby Jesus weeps

— xander dingleberries

Why’s Charlie Sheen’s head
Mounted on a shaved greyhound?
Whippet, whippet good.

— darksock

Key ring on belt loop?
Island vacation in jeans?
Janitor back home

— ed

sunglasses indoors
automaticly makes choad
fully apparent

-Conducheous

Oompa Prompa, Oompity Prom

Yes, the Prompas are back to riddle us with the following question, delivered in choreographed song form:

Oompa, Prompa, Oompity Dom.
We may be orange, but what did you look like at your prom?

It’s true. I had the early 90s blow dried single length hair thing working. And a paisley cumberbun.

But still.

Ladies, you are lovely.

Gentlemen, you are still orange.

Tony With the Car Dealership

Yes. You won the lottery, Tony with the Car Dealership lot on Route 9 near Framingham. You know it. I know it. The only one who doesn’t know it is Sunny Perky Hott.

You light those candles of thanks the next time you’re at church, Tony With the Car Dealership on Route 9 near Framingham.

Because her body is divine. Her face is angelic. And you’ve got shoulder pads the size of Wisconsin.

Rollin' With The Bottled Water

Exploding Frosty McTennis with the sideways peace sign and douche everything needs someone to go back in a time machine to 1978 and punch his father in the nads.

And this perfectly tanned Spanish Tamale makes me want to Bilbao her paprikas. She is a mojito of perfection.

But most of all I’m just pleased to see Alfonso Ribeiro, “Carlton,” is keeping busy since The Fresh Prince of Bel Air went off the air.

Good on you, Carlton. You keep rollin’ with that bottled water.

Not my Daddy

At first I wondered if my daddy could really be an apron wearing chin fungused shaved chested tool in the douche woodshed.

But then I said, nah. My daddy looks nothing like that.

I do, however, see mommie boobies. The kind that make lambs go “baaaaa.”