Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Doggie 'Baggin' on the Island

The Doggie ‘Bag douche maneuver will be credited by future historians to HCwDB legend and Monthly winner The Trainwreck in 2007.

Watch the Doggie ‘Baggin move spread here, here, here, here, here, here, and even to Gramps. You go, Gramps.

In this example, we see a classic Long Island homage to The Trainwreck (complete with kitchen and “oops!” expression). You can look coy all you want, Tonya. But that dude’s wearing a wristdanna. And his face is the color of a twizzler.

Boa Arthur

Is there anything worse than a scrote who thinks he dominates the clubs where the hotts are paid to stand next to him?

Is this the douche equivalent of winning the Guitar Hero competition at the local frat-house and therefore assuming you have actual musical talent?

Seriously, Arthur. She is Paid to Pose. Look into those eyes.

They do not say Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of a man with poor tatts, rings and bad hygene to save me.

They say: I hope this tool tips me 20 bucks before Tony calls me back to the stage for GnR’s ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’

Read the signs, Boa Arthur. When they’re playing you for cash, you are not the Boa King.

The Accounts Payable 'Bag

You can always tag the douche from the Accounts Payable department by the minimum yet expressive facial hair. This is due to their minimal prep time on Fridays transforming from office worker accountant drone into club-going wankpoo.

Flynn works his quiet desk job, 9-5 every week at Dunden Miffler. Then on weekends, he spikes up the fading Fauxhawk and tries his best to get something, anything, out of that facial hair.

In fact, if you stare long enough at Flynn’s chin scruff, it will gradually reveal itself.

Red is featuring inflated implants, one of the clearest manifestations of ‘bag infection in a hott, and she probably needs to eat a sandwich, but that’s still a very sweet smile. And by sweet smile, I mean boobies.

Ask DB1: The Ex

—-
DB1,

Stranded,
Tom
—-

I dunno, Tom, that tool is only a stage-1 or a stage-2 scrote. A partially inked tatt and 1960s That Girl glasses aren’t really the brand-name culture spectacle of the higher douchal vortex.

Although boatbags do have a certain annoyance factor that goes beyond the bling. As we all remember in last year’s legendary pic, The ‘Bag Islander. Man, that pic still makes me want to thigh punch a cactus.

But back to your question. As Ubiquitous Red Cup knows, sometimes we gotta cut bait and let the boobies go. No matter how bouncy they remain in our memory. Turning into a Boatbag will solve nothing, Tom. And then I will have to mock you in digital form on this site.

Don’t do it. Conquer the ‘Bag Within and let the boobies go, and only then will the hiney return.

The Douchebaguette

Many readers have emailed to ask why I don’t focus more on the Douchebaguette, aka “The Bleeth.”

The interesting thing about female douchedom is that when you do stumble across a pic of a female uberscrote (like here), she’s usually posing with a guy who takes the douche to a level far beyond the gum snapping stage-4 Bleethdom that Carmen Douchelectra has ascended.

Apparently Douchebaguettes can’t even mate on their own level. They require next-generation douche. Perhaps something to aspire to.

Which makes sense if you think about it. Grieco-to-Bleeth virus transmission would naturally result in lag-time between choad and subsequent hott descent into toxicity.

But, on the plus side, at least she took a nip out of his nose.

The Oldbag

Some ‘Bag Hunters who have only recently entered training ask me, “DB1, how will I be able to differentiate the Oldbag in pursuit of the Hott from Grandpas with their Granddaughters?”

And I respond simply:

“Grasshopper. You will know the Oldbag by the scent of Mothballs and Old Spice.

And you will know the Oldbag by silly-ass bling.

Chia II

Tai-Chia responds in the comments thread:

—-
this is him speaking its clearly ur a loser who put me ont his site but im proud bc use are all haters and cannot get as many grls as meim honored that u wanna be like me thanks so much for goign out of your way to do thi thanks alot no wu realize i get hot girls and you dont
—-

And here I used to think those spam emails with the randomly generated text accompanying them were written by computer.

HCwDB of the Week: Predatorbag

Your unshaven narrator on all things hott/douche, The DB1, had to get up at 5:30 and do a three minute interview with a radio program based out of Chicago called Mancow, so I’m a little groggy. I think the quasi-interview (was I even asked a question?) was taped during a commercial break, so I’m not sure it even aired, and I didn’t get to say much.

But it did come, in a Heathers moment of cleansing synchronicity, just after Mr. Mancow interviewed the actor who played “Billy” from Predator, who apparently is running for office in Kentucky on the “racist loon” ticket. Billy was going on about how we need to “kill all Arabs,” and other such classiness. Because if there’s anything talk radio needs, it’s more hatred.

But since Predatorbag won the Weekly, and Billy was interviewed before me, it’s all preordained.

City of Brotherly Scrote makes the case:

My vote goes to Predatorbag. His abs reek of Preparation H, he’s got the look of smug arrogance on his face, there’s really no reason for his shirt to be off, and lets face it, the hott is eye-humping the camera like it’s nobody’s business and we can all enjoy that. You suck Predatorbag. I hate you.

Predatorbag FTW.

CoBS, you have hit the nail on the shirtless head. doucheous nero expands on the theory:

Predator FTW. The hallmark of scrotal achievement is when the douche, being human, makes himself look not-human. When the faux that is douche manifests itself physically and beyond mere adornment. The marquee example of this would be the millennium bag. The Predator has achieved such a manifestation, setting himself apart from his competitors.

“The Post-Human in the Age of the Spectacle” in the title of my next Cultural Studies book. I plan to use Critical Race Theory and Post-Feminist Gender Theory in my thesis. Or maybe not. And Sir Douchey reminds us not to forget the core douche factors:

I vote for Predatorbag. Out of context shirtlessness is a big factor in my decision making

Well said, S.D. And ufo destroyers:

I vote Predatorbag due to the fact that he is one of the malformed Jerz Guidos dancing in the middle of the street in the video. Or at least he had withing 15 minutes of taking this pic. And she has tresses like Athena and mounds like Vesuvius coming out of the clamshell with Venus. Also both of them don’t rate to a bag of mulch on the IQ scale — combined.

Heh, he said Vesuvius. But ned’s atomic douchebin reminds us that hott/choad dialectic is where true enlightenment is found:

Predatorbag is the biggest douche. Ice Man’s hott is the hottest. Did anybody mention them hindquarters? But these two are not coupled together resulting in a cancel out. So, I’ll go with Pimpit for the win.

And Jean Claude Van Douche agrees on casting in with Pimpit and his Stage-4 Bleeth:

I have to vote for Pimpit and Paris. Their combined douche/bleethness has me wanting to take a cold shower using said skin-wrapped flatulence, whilst cursing the gods for allowing the existence of such undeniably moronic “hey look at us” scrotal ovulatory filth to inhabit space in this dimension. Pimpit FTW!

That was a glorious sentence, JCvD. While the perfectly formed assedness of the hott pictured in Ice Man came in third, it did so with a core group of hiney worship, as The Cantaloupe Pharalope explains:

I would train hippopotamae to play the banjo, the fiddle, the jug bass, the jug itself, a tin triangle and other redneck instruments and then throw cantaloupes at them as they drove by on the Clampett’s truck playing Ride of the Valkyries if someone told me that her mean big sister didn’t like melons or self-conscious travelling bovine musicians.

Genius, C.P.

Both Scare-A-Douche and blondiedouche provide eloquent treatises in the comments thread too long to cut-n-paste here, but I highly recommend reading the full thread. It is top quality ‘bag discourse, as always.

But this was Predatorbag’s week to fill the fourth and final slot in Monday’s Monthly. douche diggler brings it home:

the Predator Bag has an evil face, like Chucky, but it is made that more terrifying due to its primordial shininess … then there is the weirdly shaped torso that I am pretty sure he crafted by attempting to mirror my shirtless Sgt. Slaughter figurine from 1986 … he is Douchemary’s Baby.

It must be him.

Chalk up the Predatorbag and Gum Snapping Hott for the win, and we’ll see them on Monday in the Monthly.

Tai-Chia

Freud was wrong.

It isn’t primal traumas from our childhood that haunt our unconscious and inform our anxieties.

It isn’t issues with our mother and father during those first years we form our sense of self that inform our adult personas and haunt our dreams.

It’s Chia Pets.

Chia Pets in the Unconscious.

Giant Chia Pets.

He Just Bangs Bitches and Makes $4.2 Million

Like Emerson, Thoreau and Andrew “Dice” Clay before him, the eloquent and poetic lyricism of He Just Bangs Bitches and Drinks has moved the human soul with the longing and pathos of our collective existential journey. While macking on the honeys at the same time.

HJBB&D does so once again, with this short, poetic verse:

—-
Status: HJBB&D has to make a few more fone calls and within 12-14 months my net worth will be $4.2 Million.

hmm what should I get first a porsche? jaguar? lamborghini? how about all 3 within a year? Exactly.
—-

Exactly, HJBB&D.

Exactly.