Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

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There may not be much to do in rural Nevada, off the interstate and six miles up from the I-Hop on the outskirts of Reno, but that didn’t stop Tony, Carol and Mike from meddling in an old Indian burial ground.

Pooper McGee

Nobody is more popular with people at a party than Pooper. Pooper’s people love to pop poppers while playing with palindromes. Like Pippip. And Poopoop.

Yup, I’m jittery and not making sense again.

I blame the Trader Joes Blood Orange Soda. It’s just so sweet and tangy.

Like Patsy Kensit Hott’s large, yet succulent, racks of lamb leg.

Denny

When not partying up in his Logan’s Run Ice Palace, Denny takes time out to read philosophy and contemplate the mysteries of the human existence within a Hegelian framework.

Carlos Finds Love

After Sublime broke up in 1996, Carlos found love, in his own unique way. So who are you to judge his shiny belt and matching thigh tatts?

Maria Conchita Aboobso on the right causes small marsupials to collapse into paralytic shock and then tremble weakly crying for the marsupial mother they never had.

Stupid small marsupials. That’s what you get for being so small and furry.

HCwDB of the Week

You ever play butt bongos with a rusty Pringles can and a spork? Yeah. Me neither. Here’s your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: I Say, Old Chap

Oi there, guvnah! Yer yarbles got their own bloody coat of arms on ’em, eh?

Okay, I can’t talk in Cockney Britspeak anymore.

She is delightful librarian smiles, albeit with inexplicable tweety bird matching hip tatts. I would trek across the Adirondaks wearing only a sheepskin legwarmer just for the chance to mulch the birch bark off the tree that once provided shade to her great aunt, Bertha.

He has Wolverine Douchitude in spades.

Although no tatts. I guess 1890s Britain wasn’t into the tatt thing.

But for Wellsian time traveling creepiness and douchey Vegas hair, Old Chap had to get a shot in the Finals.

And by shot, I mean look kids! Big Ben! The Parliament!

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Mencken

At first, you’re probably stunned into submission by the high Bleeth factor on both girls. You think, “This pic is all douche.”

True.

While the hotts are both so ‘baguetted out as to be unredeemable, their inner hott does remain.

Like a footprint.

Or an acoustic echo.

So while they still render the pic the toxicity of true hottie/douchey wrongness, there is the glimmer of a better world lost to the dark plague of dark douchebaggery.

Plus, the lifting of shirt with mouth to reveal ab may be one of the most innovative douche maneuvers since The Peach Point.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Fung

What more can be said about this strange, eerie, almost otherworldly pic of all that is wrong and greasy in our culture?

The uberdouche is overwhelming. This pic will be used someday to teach 3rd graders in a “Scared Straight” anti-douche seminar.

And all the while, that little Anna Pacquin Rogue Cutie sitting nonchalantly in the background.

It’s sort of like smoking a cig and checking your cell phone while standing next to Chernobyl.

This pic has to be the favorite, but does it have enough to pull off the victory?

And by pull off, I mean chin fung.

(Dis)honorable mention to the uberdouche lineup in A.S.O.W., who simply lacked the hott to make finalist status, the perfection and poo of The Ass and I, The Brothabags and OC Hotts of Summoning Cthuthlu and the perfect boobies of The Four Horsemen of the Douchepocalypse.

Damn fine week of submissions, props again to all ‘bag hunters who sent in pics. But three may enter, and only one may win. Which one? That’s up to you.

Cast your vote, as ever, in the comments thread.

Sunday Frolics

Your humble narrator, The DB1 is suffering what the townies in Boston call a “Wicked hangovah.” Stupid PBRs. Stupid half-drunk actress type working the bar, pretending she likes the patrons for tips. But she was so blonde and boobilicious. I went over 20%.

Wait, what’s that? Lil’ Head wants to say something:

Lil’ Head: Hey Big Head! Remember that joke you used to tell about me doing pushups in a cave until I threw up?

Big Head: Yes Lil’ Head, we used to tell that joke in 3rd grade. Why?

Lil’ Head: That was funny.

How’s your weekend going?

Gimli

You gotta be a serious Lord of the Rings fan to tattoo middle earth on your chest.

Ask DB1: Unclear on the 'Bag Concept

The following spam email came in this morning:

—-
Do you wholesale your bags? The stores we work with are aggressively looking for bags to sell in their stores this holiday season. If you want to make a push, now’s the time.

If you want to sell your bags, visit us at http://www.WiseRep.com. We guarantee sales.

Sincerely,
David Thibos
Director of Merchandising
WiseRep.com
—-

I love spam that uses the word “hence.”

Whither the Wendys?

Another Friday in Los Angeles.

The fog lifts over the mid afternoon traffic like a Peking opera revealing a dancing Chou. The city sweats like a schizophrenic ferret trapped in a dryer. Set on high.

The people, trapped in their cars on the 405, ranting and raving because traffic sucks. I gaze at the smog. And I chuckle.

I sip some semi-flat Mr. Pibb out of a Big Gulp and contemplate the rare Wendys Hold + ‘Bag Hand Gesture that Flippy here is demonstrating for us.

Whither Flippy’s trip to Wendys?, I ask myself.

As he pollutes a sweet, soft ball of soft brown hair and large smile that looks cuddly and playful and a bit scratchy, I can’t help but wonder.

Was the Wendy’s run the pinnacle of the evening? Or an impromptu stop after winning the fuzzy dice at the local fair playing The Whack-a-Mole?

I know not how these formations occur in a society confused by fragment and disjoint. A culture overwashed by odors for sale on every street corner to embody the eros magnified by television and magazine.

But even flat, my Mr. Pibb consoles me.

For it is like Dr. Pepper. Only different.

The Four Horsemen of the Douchepocalypse

From Doucheteronomy 13:25:

Lo! And the Lord commanded it, saying “I am the Lord, your G-D. And I shall give you a sign, that yea, in the day of the wonderfully innocent boobie rise, there shall gather the Four Horsemen of the Douchepocalpyse.”

And the Lord spoketh his warning. “They shall ride with stupid faces and loud shirts, towards thy Holy Boobie Hottie. And you shall mock them. For it is My Will, and I command it! As I am thine G-D. And they are very pooey.”