Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Sunday Musings: Melon Butt

It’s a lazy Sunday during this three day weekend for your humble narrator of douchetrology, The DB1. I scratch myself. I look at Melon Butt. And I scratch myself some more.

I sip cheap alcohol, munch on an extra-large bowl of Corn Pops, and consider the Bleeth. Those women of good breeding and firm perkage who somehow attract towards the Douche Fly.

Like Melon Butt here, and her posse of insectified scrotesects.

I think about what it means to be a scrotesect. How the male seeks to use his body as an eroticized gender inversion. Douche as “Hot Chick,” “prettified” by product, to confuse Hot Chick into wanting Douche. Eroticism imbedded in product. Armani/Exchange the golden calf of so many spiritual desert walkabouts. So many trips into the digital echo chamber of product enhanced validation. So many graspings at the elusive reaffirmation of the body using corporate brand as substitute for self.

And then Melon Butt speaks to me.

Melon Butt reorients the chaotic swirl of simulation, of pixelated echo, of digital performance as substitute for the authentic, into a singularity of focus. If Melon Butt could talk, it would say, “The real still exists. It exists in my curvy melon butt.”

And I hold onto Melon Butt as the guiding sherpa amongst the douchal untether that informs the age of mass media.

Which is a grandiloquent way of saying I’d knead Melon Butt like sparkling neon play-doh in the bouncing moonwalks of blacklit rubber padded cells of eros. For it is tasty. And it is real.

The rest may be digitized white noise. But Melon Butt is real.

The Marks Brothers

Mark #1: Tobey Maguire’s less successful cousin, Rocky Magdumbass

Mark #2: The escaped convict from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure with just a touch of Bruce Campbell chin

Mark #3: Head

Hott #1: A cross between Salma Hayek and the eyes of Jennifer Connolly, she makes arthritic frogs tap dance the love theme from Superman II

Mark #4: Has struggled with his music career since Cypress Hill broke up.

A Dude, a Hott and an Ass Salami

Dude on the left earns a borderline nottadouche pass, in spite of some hair spike and shirt loudness. He’s okay.

Hott in the middle tickles my nethers with her pouty stare, even if she is flipping me off.

Douche on the right needs to be dipped in honey and tossed into a vat of bad computer graphics red ants in an Indiana Jones movie that never happened.

He is pure Ass Salami. Sliced and for sale at $4.99/lb in Bay Ridge.

Rallying the Party

Alas, HCwDB’s ‘bag hunters have become divided. Uneasy. Restless.

Perhaps it is my fault for ranting on a politicalbag. But I make no apologies. There are no corners of hottie/douchey spectrum that will not be explored on this site. Nor will there be false “balance.” This is my site, and my ranting goes.

But I do not want regulars who disagree with me to feel frustrated.

So instead, let us rally. Together.

I have a platform I wish to introduce that will bring us back into one cohesive whole. Ready to mock the douche and lust after the boobie hottie suckle thigh.

And it is this guy. And this hott.

Come together. Mock. Lust. And mock some more.

Tangled Up in Poo

Okay enough political stuff. Lets all sing some Dylan:

I lived with them on Montague street,
A basement down the stairs,
There were douches in the cafes at night,
And devolution in the air…

Honorary Hot Chick with Douchebag of the Month: McCain/Palin

Not since the Bush/Quayle pairing of 1988 have a douche and a hot chick run for office together.

For crotchety oldbag whining, for telling me to get off his lawn, and for picking a former beauty queen as his #2, John McCain earns this month’s honorary HCwDB of the Month.

Politicalbags aren’t my favorite subject around here, mainly because so few of them actually snag attractive hotties.

Proving the adage that Washington really is Hollywood for ugly people, as well as for conceptually douching it up rather than featuring physical markers of douchebaggery, Politicalbags tend to bore me.

But for today’s idiotic selection, lets give John McCain a hearty douche of the month award. You’ve earned it, old wrinkly guy. Not to mention dumping your first wife for a 24 year old beer heiress. Your history of wonky douchitude is a long and inglorious one, Keating #5.

And yes, Sarah Palin, you are the milfy librarian hott that revs my motorboat even at your advanced age. And while my lust for your sharp librarian looks may be a sexist invalidation of all that you’ve accomplished professionally, I really don’t have to worry. Because you haven’t really accomplished anything professionally.

The Boatbag Shuffle

Yeah I’ve been overdoing it with the Boatbags this week. But it’s Labor Day Weekend. If not now, when? If not me, who?

In this lineup of tasty, curvy, slightly milfy hott milkshakes, I’ve dropped in a classic floating boat turd.

Note all the key signifiers:

Mandana + Spikey Hair Fro.

Shoulder Tatt designed by an epileptic rhesus monkey.

It’s Labor Day Weekend. What better way to celebrate the progressive development of standardized work weeks, citizen rights and productive national development, then by choadmocking and boob admiring?

Methinks we do our patriotic duty.

Retro Douche: Tommy from The Power Rangers

AE writes in:

—-
Hey DB1,

Maybe if I’m lucky Kimberly will help me repent my old admiration for a total bag. She can dress up for me any day and the screaming karate is always a plus.

– AE
—-

Good call, AE. But if we’re doing douches from 1990s children’s TV, my money’s still on that creepy Nordic Himmler baby in the sun from the Teletubbies. There’s no doubt that kid’ll be slicking up his hair and making gang signs for his senior high school photo in 17 years.

Friday Haiku

Russian Mob plots sting,
Sue Ellen Smith’s an heiress,
Snag jewelry and boobs.

Classified advert:
Bono bag seeks kinky pair
For infiltration.

— holbrooks douchestershire sauce

Shirley, where’s Laverne?
Squiggy, you let yourself go
Son of Fonzie: douuuuuuche

— i drink your doucheshake

that “70’s Show” cast
out of make up & on drugs
sure look different

— creature

He still hasn’t found
No help from Benny and Joon
What he’s looking for

— jean claude van douche

X-Lax Thinks

X-Lax has a thought: Perhaps Steven Hawking was wrong that dark matter in the outer part of the galaxy is caused by neutrino energy. Perhaps it is instead caused by vodka boobies.