Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Criss Angel

Criss Angel is:

A. A homeless man
B. The love child of Abe Vigoda and a mound of uncooked cookie dough
C. Pulling a rabbit out of his ass
D. A Vegas douche with a Penthouse pet who wouldn’t be caught dead posing with him if he wasn’t rich and famous
E. All of the Above and a shot of Axe Bodyspray

McCutie's 'Bag Tag

Reader McCutie goes ‘bag hunting and writes in with the following capture story:

—-
Dear DB1,

— McCutie
—-

I’m not sure what “Hilton Head” is, but I’m assuming it’s next to “Lohan Hand” and “Simpson Foot.” Regardless, nice capture McCutie, you seem to have found a K-Federbag in action.

And by action, I mean grease trail.

On an unrelated note, Photobag, the photographer of the Whale Squirts pic, does not get $50/day, that was a joke I inserted. Please do not email him requesting him to work your party at that rate.

Lysol FAQ

How often do I need to apply disinfectant products to control germs in my home?

But not necessarily for cleaning up the bacteria left by a trio of uberdouche.

From the Lysol FAQ

College

A place where young minds go to prosper under the tutelage of their elders.

A place where youthful intellect can flower and become refined under the guidance of years of productive course work and studying.

A place where skinny tools get hotts they will never, ever, get again once they’re in the real world.

Where's Waldouche: Beach Bunny Edition

And while you’re mulling your vote in the Weekly, somewhere in this lineup of amply endowed beach bunny boobies, I’ve carefully hidden a scoliosis suffering meaty waldouche.

Look closely.

Can you find him?

HCwDB of the Week

This was one of the tougher weeks to cull down to three finalists. We had such a wide variety of hottie/scrotey combinations last week that it’s almost unfair to elevate three to Finalist status. Especially when the grease factor was not only high, but also varied along so many scrotal categories.

In light of the loss of the Whale Squirts, our Weekly takes on new urgency. By which I mean, lets drink and mock. Drink and mock. And lust for boobies.

Here’s your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Bagnolia

Persian Tom Cruise has a certain extra element of douchebaggery that transcends Thetan warlords implanted in a volcano.

He is Frank T.J. Mackie by way of The Darjeeling Limited. Mission Impossible III processed through Bollywood.

The girls are cute, not the hottest of last week, but certainly the type you’d have sold your cousin to a Brazilian Fagan type to conscript into petty thievery just for the chance to rub their sundresses on your middle toes.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Brick

Some say it’s unfair to single out the pro body builder type. Their job is to look as douchey as possible, what with the orange tans and yellow g-strings.

But Brick is just too douchey to pass up. And his girl is absolutely mouth watering Skittles Taste the Rainbow flavor packed sugar packet.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

Nominating Brick for the Weekly increases the chances that Brick will bench press me into a human pretzel while I scream like a nine year old girl.

And that possibility certainly exists.

But I’m dedicated to my art. Exploring gender inversion identity crises in the age of mass media spectacle within the shared meaning structures of simulation requires me to risk bodily harm at the hands of Brickbag.

And another chance to stare at her loveliness is worth being turned into a human barbell.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Alpha Beta ‘Bagga

Normally I hate to nominate pics when there is no clearly defined hottie/douchey coupling taking place.

But the firm and spectacular female trunkajunk stands on its own two buttocks.

And the ghostly douchewanks from Pol Pot’s The Killing Fields deserve to be mocked simply for ignoring the best show this side of P.T. Barnum’s hidden late night freakshows.

And hey, lace dress things. Good times.

Honorable mentions to Dotal Touchebag and The Blowtorch, who just missed the cut.

But them’s your three.

Which of these pics has the best balance between a hot piece of boob action and a steaming pile of ectoplasmic douche residue?

Which pic demonstrates the wrong choices the young desirable female makes during her peak years of bloom?

That, my friends, is up to you.

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Sunday Hangover

This douche looks like I feel. This hottie looks like what I’d like to feel.

Hey, whaddaya want? Henny Youngman? It’s Sunday.

No More Whale Squirts

The photog of HCwDB of the Week winner The Whale Squirts writes in and requests that the pic be taken down:

—-

The Power Chord Hearts BJs

Creepy crimson 80’s Power Chord,who first appeared on this site back in October polluting one of the hottest hotts ever,The Queen Bee, is back.

I’m wondering if we should backdate his guitar strumming douchosity even further. Like late 1970s.

Hot tub sitting, 35mm porn watching, gold medallion wearing, EST enrolling late 1970s douche.

Clearly the Power Chord had a very merry Christmas. He almost looks like your wacky uncle here. Marginal douchosity, except for the shirt. At least be clever, Power Chord. Like “I Heart Captain and Tennille, Because I’m Old.”

Santa’s Elves can wrap my frankincense and myrrh while converting pagan holidays for mass consumption. They’re no Queen Bees, but they can still make the honey.

The Blowtorch II

I don’t post this second pic of the Blowtorch with Hott Sloane Peterson to taunt you.

I know it feels that way. But trust me, that is not the real affect.

This pic is meant to inspire you.

Think of this not as cruelty on a Friday night, but as heroic inspiration.

A jolt to the system.

A shock that invigorates. Like jumping in the cold water dipping pool after 20 minutes in a sauna.

The Blowtorch’s wrongness and Sloane Peterson Hott’s perfect lickability commingle as semiotic signifier of the singularity of cultural wrongness that only you can fix.

By going out tonight, getting drunk on some ‘Train, and saving a Hott or three. If you’re a Hottie, by going out, getting drunk on some ‘Train, and kicking a Blowtorchbag in the nads.

Witness the commingle and turn that spew into inspiration. Heed the call to action.

It’s Friday night. Lets do this.