Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Kelly Hott and The Paw

There are many reasons to kill yourself after viewing this pic.

The chin pubes of unholy ragefire. The hair that can only be described as “scrotal dye.”

But before you leap off that cliff to your death, certain in the knowledge that no humane and just deity would allow such silk-tie wearing atrocity to paw Kelly Hott, know this:

You’re right.

Jump.

Reader Mail: MSU

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DB1-

– Amateur ‘Bagologist
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But do they smell like poo?

Yes. They probably do.

The Punctured Balloon

When I was six years old, Jeremy punctured my balloon at the kindergarten fair. It deflated into a saggy, wrinkled piece of rubber. And I cried.

Alas, all these years later, my childhood trauma at the kindergarten fair, reflected in a deflated douche nipple. Very traumatic.

Put on a shirt, Balloon Douche. You’re scarring our collective psyche all over again.

Caption This Pic

After accidentally butting his head and lower left chest area into Amy Winehouse’s makeup jar, Carlos consoled himself by traveling to Finland.

Mary's 'Bag Tag

Mary writes in with a facebook ‘bag tag:

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DB1-

– Mary
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We’ve seen that shirt before on this site, and each time, worn by an ubertool. Or at least, an ubertool from early 2004. Double fisting a Bud Light and a Coke. Classy.

But there are two other reasons I ran this picture. And they are blonderifically mamtastic.

Fratburger

Is this authentobaggery? Or simply ironic poseur fratfakery?

Either way, I’d like to pelt his upper face area with raisins dipped in cowpie.

Then I’d whisk her away to a monestary where we’d read Gnostic texts from the 3rd Century before suckling on each others middle toes while listening to Fishbone.

He Don't Need No Bitch In His Life

While you’re mulling your vote in the Monthly, enjoy this selection of MySpace Poetry brought to you by the eloquent wordsmith, He Don’t Need No Bitch In His Life:

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HERES THE DEALLL I NEVER LOSE I DONT GIVE A F@#K WHAT OTHER PEOPLE WIN IM ME AND YOU ARE YOU THATS DONE!

BY THE WAY IM A ROCKSTAR WANNA SEE IF YOU CAN PARTY HARDER DOUBT IT 7 DAYS A WEEK BABY BUT IM CIVIL AND RESPONSIBLE SO DONT GET IT TWISTED … IM A VERY RANDOM PERSON 2 I WILL MAKE PPL GO NUTS I LOVE PIZZA HAS TO BE WELLDONE I LOVE THE BEACH BUT SOMETIMES I LOVE THE SNOW!? I LOVE SHOPPING AND BUYING THE HOTTEST S@#T AROUND I DONT GIVE A F@#K WHO HAS THE BLOWOUT AND HOW MUCH ITS PLAYED OUT THEN WHY ARE YOU F@#KING ME THEN DUH WTFFF I NEVER FOLLOWED THE TREND IT WAS JUST SOMETHING THAT WENT GOOD WITH ME ANOTHER THING I LISTEN TO ALL KINDS OF MUSIC MMMM I HATE WHEN LIL FAGETS RUN THIER MOUTH WHEN YOU SEE THEM TURN THERE HEADS OR THINK ITS ALL GOOD SOON OR A LATER WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUNDDD
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It’s like Pablo Neruda for the digital age.

HCwDB of the Month

Here it is, folks. The Monthly smackdown. The moment when the best/worst of the hott/douche square off in a winner-take-all greasefest. But while your humble narrator all things vulvic/horrific, The DB1 is recovering from his own weekend of hott saving and douche mocking, now is your chance to step in and render a verdict.

Which of these four couplings are toxic enough to be called HCwDB of the Month? Here’s your finalists:

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #1: The Canker Twins

Having bested (worsted?) the surrealist dada photographic masterpiece that is Still Life with Coors Light, The Canker Twins are bringing their dual-douche power to the Monthly.

Sure the hotts are douchebaguettes.

But that tiny one still offers many qualities that I respect deeply on an intellectual and spiritual level.

You know you’d sell your second cousin to a kinky postal officer from Kentucky just for the chance to fondle her former accountant’s office supplies. Even tatted up post-Rehab Amy Winehouse has a bit of boobuous talent.

But really, the Cankers are the draw. Dual shaved heads? Yeesh.

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #2: Bra!!

Trivia Question: Where did Bra’s great grandparents emigrate from?

Answer: La Vie Broheme.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Bra!! has become iconic in his short time on this site. Not only that, his dual star-tatts and variety of tasty cola beverages, as well as collection of spring break hotts, have already won him a spot in our hallowed Hall of Scrote.

But do not let these facts influence you.

Many in the HoS have gone on to lose a Monthly. Hall of Scroters earn entry for originality and innovation as much as for horrific greasing of the hotts. So is Bra!! a broheim enough to win the Monthly, brosky?

Broheim!! Another Pepsi!!

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #3: Turd Flush

Rarely do humanoid excrements walk among us, but when they do, they pollute the hotts as badly as Turd Flush has.

So we must mock their racoon eyes, sneery sneer and douchey everything.

The slutt hotts are all that is great about a sexually free society, and all that is wrong at the same time.

For that, I love them.

I pledge them my first born.

HCwDB of the Month Finalist #4: Pippy

Who are we kidding?

Pippy has about as much chance of winning the Monthly as Blondie does of going back to school and finishing her Liberal Arts degree.

Not gunna happ’n.

I don’t mean to influence the vote, because I actually think Pippy has that noxious “everybag” quality that patrols the clubs and stinks up the universe in the process.

But against Turd Flush, Bra!! and The Canker Twins, even with the uberhottness of Sultry Ski Bunny Perfection, he’s got it tough.

She is delightful, though. I would most certainly snowboard over a pack of cute little kitteny kitten wittens in front of a class of horrified third graders just for the chance to get yelled at by her former teacher.

But don’t let me sway the voting.

Which of these four is worthy of the Monthly? That, my friends, is up to you.

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Sunday Reflections

It’s baking like an oven here in Los Angeles. Hot enough to melt the frosted tips off sixteen Inland Empire ‘bags hangin’ in Arby’s at 1am.

As I sit and sweat and munch on a Lil’ Debbie Snack Cake, I can’t help but ask myself the grand philosophic question:

Why the rubber lips?

No seriously. Why?

Does it convey “manhood?” “Toughness?” Does it render the douche a white 2-Pac ready to go all East Coast vs. West Coast with his bad self?

And how can we separate dark haired young Laura San Giacomo muchable creampuff delight from the plague of rubberliposity?

I do not know.

But it’s Sunday. And tomorrow’s the Monthly. So lets just laugh at this tool and crack another Pabst Blue Ribbon until the heat subsides.

How YOU doin'?

I’m fine, actually.

But you’re still a douche.

Now let go of the sweet chiquita before I yank on the Jesus Bling, then use your hair to barbecue shrimp.