Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Blowtorch

Watching this viscous blowtorch slime a sultry perky coed is like having rabies infected hamsters chew through my childhood VHS Muppet Show tapes.

Even the one where Kenny Rogers sang The Gambler to the muppet on the train who ends up dying at the end. That used to make the 8 year old DB1 tear up like it suddenly got dusty in the room.

Stop gripping the glass with Freudian intensity, Blowtorch, and put down the tongue. If you’re gonna learn to play the douche, boy, you gotta learn to do it right.

Perky swan has the Sloane Peterson silken hair of angels. Her shoulders are delectable with a side order of broccoli.

Suburban Pimp

Suburban Pimp knows what’s up.

His SUV is, like, totally tricked out.

And he knows how to keep his bitches in line. By taking them to the mall, where there’s a sale at The Limited.

Brick

Brick, you may have the head of a Fraggle, the orange-face of next generation Al Jolson inspired kabuki offensiveness, yellow spandex underwear that burns the eyebrows off butterflies, and chin stubble that looks like you had an accident at the Bosco Chocolate Syrup factory, but deep down, I’m sure you’re really a good guy.

And by good guy, I mean please don’t snap my spine like a graham cracker.

She is a sugartooth tiger of feline dexterity. An alleycat clawed minx that I would ignore, then ridicule, then make mad passionate love to her ankles until she politely asked me to leave now.

Friday Haiku

What’s that on forehead?
Face of Andre the Giant,
His posse’s douchebag.

grease drips into flute
blue armbands mark bleeths and douche
button your shirt, scrote

— the douche is alright

Ed Begley Jr.
Uses douche-reflected light
For his solar car.

— mr. white

Fanta-sleaze Island –
It’s Retardo Montalbon!
“Boss! Der Douche! Der Douche!”

— darksock

Blinded by the light.
Headlocked by douche in the night.
You won’t come out right.

-Amerigo Vesdouchey

Blonde’s mamms beckon me
Bag’s expression revolts me
Brunette might be dead

– ed

Zorro skeet forehead
White wine drinking club douchebag
Brunette weeps for mom

— dunkterdouche

Optimus Prime’s face
Is reflecting on your head
You are not sean bean

— danny noonan

Models and Bottles

Party with the Mathletes!

Alpha Beta 'Bagga

You know a fraternity is fratdouchity when:

A. There’s a Joe Boxer wandering around shirtless, dazed and confused while two uberhot sorority sisters demonstrate deep affections for each other

B. The rest of the shirtless fratpuds ignore the show in favor of staring at the wall

C. A tall shaved headed tool uses his vantage point to stare over the hotts making out six inches from him, and instead stares into camera with a blank deer-in-headlights expression

But to whomever invented lime green and light pink lacy frilly underwear/diaper/dress things, I salute you. And by salute you, I mean salute you.

The Mannequin

Ever get the feeling wax mannequins secretly come to live and move among us, posing as humans?

I’m not talking that cheesy 80s movie with Andrew McCarthy and the slutty old chick from Sex and the City. I’m talking old-school Twilight Zone season-1’s “The After Hours” mannequins.

Think about it. If you were a waxen figure hoping to blend in with the larger human populace, how best would you accomplish that feat?

Why dressing up as a douche, of course.

The Coral Douche Snake

From Wikipedia:

Coral snakes are a large group of elapid snakes that can be divided into two distinct groups, New World coral snakes and Old World coral snakes. There are three genera among New World coral snakes that consist of over 65 recognized species.

However the Coral Douche Snake, known to inhabit the neck area under large, spiked up hair brush, is not poisonous, but does smell sickeningly like Axe Bodyspray.

The Douchebaguette

Ladies, be careful. Too much exposure to the douche and the two of you will congeal into a jello shot of scrotundae.

There is no hope for Jenny McJersey. She has made her choice. She has pulled that pud, and gone down that dark road of douchebaguette.

Some argue there’s always hope. That once liberated from the scrote, a young plaything can be rehabilitated.

Uhm, no.

Chinny Chin Chinpube’s armlock can never be broken.

The Midwestern 'Bag

A lot of people have asked me how you identify a Midwestern ‘bag.

Midwestern ‘Bags are clearly not as douchally refined as the ubersquats from ‘bag/hott cesspools like Dallas, Atlanta, Miami and L.A.

The key to pegging a Midwestern ‘bag is the hint of confusion and awkwardness that lurks within their attempts to douche it up.

They can’t quite get the hand gestures or hat tilt to proper affect. Their Kissy Lips don’t quite congeal to proper nauseating expression. And they have yet to master the ‘Bag Headbutt into their woman.

But they’re trying.

With the full corn fed effort of America’s heartland, they’re trying.