Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Cheeks

This reminds me of the time I… actually, no. This reminds me of no times. Or maybe the end times.

Or maybe setting my eyelids on fire.

Reader Mail: Grocery 'Baggin'

Blondie writes in:

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Hey there DB1!

Keep on baggin!
xo,
Blondie
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Well observed, Blondie. Stay safe while ringing up the HoHos.

But since you didn’t send a pic with your email, here’s a standard issue hybrid of Rockerbag and Beachbag cuddling a freckly girl next door hott while doing the “White Man’s Overbite.”

Ted's Sneer

Ted isn’t an uberdouche. More like your standard stage-2 Southern Fratscrote.

But between the diamond ear bling, the double necklace and the smug-ass expression that’s a cross between smiling and sneer-mocking us for not being near to the blondie boobie suckle thigh, he’s ‘baggy enough to make the site.

Kristen makes holy spirit guides of the netherworld hump teddy bears like cracked up rhesus monkeys.

Megahead

Remember about ten years ago when people still thought making “eight head” cracks was funny when referring to someone with an unusually large forehead?

It wasn’t funny then. And it isn’t funny now.

Which is why I must point out, in all seriousness, and not to make a joke, that that is a a three hundred and forty seven head.

Where's X-Lax?

Somewhere in this lineup of perky corn-fed Midwestern hotts, one Fratbag and one potential serial killer, I’ve carefully hidden an over-the-counter digestive tract aid.

Look closely.

Can you find him?

Yankee Douchal Dandy

Rare are the days where we’ve seen smackworthy kissy lips this smackworthy.

I’d like to toss his Mendula Oblongada into a four dimensional blender so his throat could be shredded in multiple historical moments.

Something tells me Caroline will be a wonderful mother, who would cherish and guide each of her children with unyielding dedication until they became adults, and as such, I’d like to rub melted Twix bars on her femur bones until she purred like a kitten.

Huggy Bear

Yesterday’s Doggie Trot ‘Bag master, Huggy, is back.

This time to show off the powers of The Mark of the ‘Bag on his forehead while Ubiquitous Red Cup monitors the situation warily.

Prita is all sorts of Sikh delight. I would share tales of late nights in Maharashtra, sipping Jal Jeera while reading overrated Rushdie, before respectfully walking her back to the dorm by 10pm. Because she has a midterm in the morning.

On Choaden Pond

Choaden Pond proves the dictum that the douchier the boatbag’s sneer, the higher the likelihood that perfect boobie boobs will be bouncing in the background like epileptic Jello.

HCwDB of the Week: The Rime of the Scrotey Mariner

2008 is shaping up as the year of the Everybag. The subtle douche. Unlike 2007 uberbags like Fish Slap and The Gator, this year the spectacle club scrotes are less rage inducing than the subtle sneering ubersquat. The everpresent anonymous explains:

boatbag simply wins this one far and away because he is on a boat. And he is sneering. And his hotts have inner thighs that need urgent suckling, even moreso than Gauntlet’s hotts, which, while suckle-worthy, lack the pouty curves and ample bosoms of boatbag’s team.

Well said A. Anthony Labaglia breaks it down further:

Although at first glance, I find The Gauntlet to be more repulsive, I feel that the Scrotey Mariner and his body of work will contribute more to the site in the long run. Additionally, every time I see his douchey face in a boat, I have the urge to run him up the mast like Lieutenant Dan in a lightning storm. Holding a nine-iron. SM ftw.

It is the Mariner’s subtle sneer that is even more powerful than a thousand star tatts. Douche Aura has now become more enraging than Douche Spectacle. We are learning.

And Frederic Choadpin explains that August is Boobies Month:

Scrotey Mariner. To make it brief, those hotts are just too hot. Maybe if the Primordial Ooze’s hotts were in bikinis, they’d have it… but they don’t.

And while it was a lesser week overall in terms of choices (airing out the pre Labor Day pics), The Gauntlet’s “Thirty” sag inspired more than a few bouts of rage. Cleopatra explains:

Gauntlet — he’s the kind of guy that make a girl’s privates close up like a drawstring purse when she sees him coming at her across the barroom floor.

Interesting, not sure I’ve heard that analogy used before, but it’s very visual, Cleo. But the weak hotts cost The Gauntlet what surely would’ve been his Weekly.

douchelexic casts in for the Ooze, who came in a distant third:

between the hat tilt and plastic frame sunglasses on ooze, and the yankees hat, sneer, and cut off cargo shorts of primordial, my vote goes to Primordial Ooze. Middle hott hasn’t yet been infected with bleethness, and outside hott is so skanky that her dirtyness makes me want to shower her with love and dial body wash.

also, P.O. are still young. perhaps a strong collective mock can save them from ending up in a lake boat with midlife crisis tattoos…and sexy blue polka dots. Primordial Ooze FTW.

But, as we’re in the dog days of summer, Boatbags are placing strongly. Captain Abag breaks it down:

The Mariner. Because he really does know better. We all wish we could be on that boat, kicking him off of it.

Yes. Yes we do.

It was a substandard crop of HCwDB finalists this week, but the votes were well played, and it’s the Mariner and his double-hotts who came out on top. And by top, I mean cultural bottom. Poo bottom.

We’ll see them again next week in the Monthly.

The X-Lax Twins

One thing’s for sure, my stool is softened.