Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

HCwDB of the Year: Bracket 1

Here it is, folks.

The best of the ‘baggiest. The scrotiest of the greasiest. The hottest of the hotts.

Since I have the technical skills of an angry Quaker luddite drunk on mead, voting will continue to be in the comments threads. Please vote only once. Weighted vote will be given to regulars, but all votes will count.

You may want to throw up your hands in confusion, say, “DB1, I refuse to choose!” But in the immortal words of P.Diddy, vote-or-douche.

Step up. Make a choice.

Crack open a PBR, and say “this one pic (in each bracket) rises to the top! This combination of choad and boobs is worthy!” Do it. Do it for yourself. Do it for Pumpy.

HCwDB of the Year: Bracket 1 Finalist #1: The Limey

Last month’s winner, The Limey is classic choad.

With tremendously sexy/trashy Miami Hooha on his arm, the noxious swirl of both sides of the HCwDB equation are well fulfilled.

She has that pink lipstick and perfect curves mid 80s Samantha Fox thing working for it.

And I dig it. Oh yes I do.

Arm tatts and Shocker-gloves.

So wrong.

HCwDB of the Year: Bracket 1 Finalist #2: The ‘Bag Islander

October’s winner, The ‘Bag Islander is every bit the spoiled suburbanite fratchoad with boat that makes our collective skin crawl.

The overpowering power of the Bikini Hott has launched wars in the Subcontinent.

She is fantastic.

He is Bud Lite pointing “Braaaaaa!”

Together they make a Monthly winner of deserving genius.

The neck sunglasses are also choice.

Bro. Bra?

Broheim. Bra!!!

Bro.

HCwDB of the Year: Bracket 1 Finalist #3: Joey Porsche

At this point you’re saying “All three are worthy!!” Yes. Yes they are. Please don’t kill yourself.

No one said choosing would be easy.

It’s hard to sum up the Joey Porsche Experience with one pic, as he often brings his friends over for group gropes, as seen here. JP became a sensation back in the June and quickly became one of the first MySpace legends of hottie/douchey totality.

He is more than simply a person.

He is a state of mind. He is Carrera.

He is the Porsche 911 of racing ‘bags.

This is Bracket 1 of 3. Voting is open until end of day on Tuesday. Vote now, and be sure to vote in Brackets 2 and 3 (above).

Stoppeth one of three, Ancient Mariner style, by voting for your pick, as always, in the comments thread.

The 2007 Douchie Awards

Your humble narrator, vote tabulator and unshaven ‘bag hunter, The DB1 will be burning the midnight candle to sort out all the pics of the last year all weekend, to get ready for Monday’s Douchies.

I will be handing out awards all week, with the following categories open to voting:

HCwDB of the Year (3 Prelims and 1 Final round)
Most Innovative New Douche Maneuver
Hottest Hott
Smells Like Poo
Best Golden Globes

The most coveted Douchie, the HCwDB of the Year will be awarded on Friday, December 21st. Determined by you. The ‘bags, ‘bag hunters and hotties.

Who will win? Who will be left standing at the altar like a greased up metrosexual asswank?

Tune in Monday to start finding out.

The 2007 Douche Awards. Smell the Axe.

The Eraser

PIC DELETED

HCwDB Supreme ‘Bag Hunter Pfah submits this pic to help us ride into our Friday nights with a tasty sampling of beauty, and a putz that can only be described as an Eraser.

Two utter balls of hott, youth and baby feeding mammaries. And a dude wearing a tie + sweatsuit coat.

So wrong.

So alcohol inspiring. And really, isn’t that what we need for a proper Friday afternoon HCwDB pic?

As to your humble narrator, a busy week sitting on my floor and scratching myself has given way to a busy weekend sitting on my floor and scratching myself. Although I have been hitting up the New Beverly for the Edgar Wright “Wright Stuff” festival. Wednesday night brought the absolute comedic genius of Top Secret! Tonight, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and Head.

EDIT: Email request from the Eraser to take the pic down, alas. Boobies lost to the ether.

King Douchuous IV's Gettin' Ready

The King is getting ready for The Douchies. Are you?

Asbreastos

Say what you will about that hair, but a little in the attic and you’ll save over 30% on your heating bills this winter.

The hotts are scrumptuous. I would dip them in melted peeps and munch on them sandwiched between two nutter butters.

The Physics of the Doucheface

That smirk.

It haunts me across the spectrum of hottie/douchey variation. Dallas, Chicago, Vancouver, even the ‘bag pics I get from overseas, from England, Australia and Germany.

So many douche-faces.

Different. Yet interconnected. Part of a larger whole.

Spread across the ether like scrotological dark matter. Like Chaos Theory neutrinos of four dimensional interweave. Like Dancing Wu-Li Masters or a metaphysical pendulum swinging across time, through superstrings and that spinning spiral cone in the opening credits of the Twilight Zone.

Surely they’re joking, Dr. Feynman.

Or can the douche-face be proof of Kabbalah’s God Shard? And if so, why does God mock us with the douche-face?

Can I find solace in stripey boobies? Are they enough to smother me in reassurance? It’s worth finding out.

Friday Haiku

Blonde Riding Hood fears,
The wolf in douche’s clothing.
“What bright hat you have.”

Playboy reject hott
wanted to stay at mansion
settled for greasebag

— d.baggins

Arching of the eyebrows
A clear tell that she’s posing
Because of lost bet

Frodo Douchebaggins

look into my eye
starving artists are waiting
for you to pass out

— the bag apple

Dirty trucker hat
Smells like feces and man love
Giving me herp sore

— ‘bagavad gita

Ask DB1: Nature or Nurture

Tripping the Lights Douchetastic writes in:

—-
DB1-

I must know.
—-

In grappling with this question, TLD, I’d have to side with “nurture” as the key formative influence in early douchal development. While it is true that some are inherently douchey no matter their time and place, by and large it is about environment.

Learning how to acquire the key cultural signifiers to attract the hott to his oily pecs and overly quaffed hair, the young ‘bagling must become indoctrinated within the larger codes of habitus.

As I’ve remarked many times before, each of us, male or female, contains the inherent force known as The ‘Bag Within. It is not dictated by genetic design, nor even extensive Red Bull and Grey Goose consumption in Cancun. The young ‘bagling must be guided down the dark path through the causality of douche attributes (douchetributes) and the attainment of the boobie hottie.

Only whence learning these lessons, does ‘bagling harden into fully formed ‘bagscrote.

The Troll Doll and the Tri-Hotts

I don’t quite know how far up the ‘bag scale Chia Pet Troll Doll goes. He’s got a little of the lip fung, but no real hand gestures and only the faintest “Mark of the ‘Bag” on the forehead.

And yet, I want to fling Arkansas roadkill into his face with the inchoate distrust of an inbred banjo player.

The tri-hott Alpha Betas appear to be smelling something.

Could it be?

It could.

Douche poo.

Ringu Lipsatsu

Be warned.

The ancient Japanese Legend speaks of a Ringu Lipsatsu, the legend of the Kissy Lips.

Seven days after viewing those lips, you’ll turn into a herp sore.

Just as these two Bleethed Jerseyites have fallen.

Those lips.

They haunt me like Brechtian theater. A spectacle of hyper-reality within a false structure that finds truth. Like smelly cowpie on a farm in Vermont. The odor of poopie as the means of refracting my own psychoanalytic absence.

Nope. The coffee did nothing.