Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Where's Waldouche?: Lickable, Munchable, Fondleable Hott-Legs Edition

I haven’t seen this many lickable, munchable, fondleable hott-legs since I took a wrong turn at Albequerque and ended up in a giant leg factory. A factory that made giant lickeable, munchable, fondleable hott-legs.

And I asked the proprietor of the leg factory, “To whom do you sell these giant lickable, munchable, fondleable hott-legs, exactly?”

And he said, “No one, really. That’s why I’m going out of business.”

And that explains how I ended up the proud owner of 436 giant lickeable, munchable, fondleable hott-legs.

Suburban Gangstaz

Those last few pics were a little too much skank for one day, so lets cool the site down with some classic Suburban Gangstabags Thugz 4 Eva. And Darlene, the sweet girl in your sophomore Econ class who you have a thing for.

Mug in the Middle, with 87 degree hat tilt, gangsta neckerchif, and smug doucheface, needs to get run over by an old granny cracked up on cough syrup.

Doug from Long Island, on the right, has the chin strip and 82 degree hat tilt of clownish goof and needs a meatball to the face.

Only Brothabag Kevin, on the left, seems okay as he enjoys his tasty cola beverage.

Wheatstalks and the Snow Capped Mountain

Hell, since it’s Bleethed Out Porn Chick Day on the site, might as well air out all the pics and let Wheatstalks get in on the action.

Caption This Pic

They could take his clothes.

But they would have to pry his mandana from his cold, greased-up forehead.

From Across the Pond

Britbag Hunter writes in:

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Greetings.

Britbag Hunter
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Good work Britbag H. You should’ve screamed out, “Oi! Piss off, ya tosser!”

Becasue I love talking like Vivian from The Young Ones. Then getting drunk when I realize my country’s empire peaked over 200 years ago, and is now a crumbling shell of its former glory. With great comedy.

It Takes Two

Okay, enough of the orange dudes. They’re starting to freak me out like a bizarre Fanta ad gone hyper-glo douche.

Instead, lets mock the classic West Coast Upstate California Small Town Rocker Douche, a stage-2 rocker ‘bag with fwippy faux and dating a…

AIEEEEE!!

THE ORANGE!! IT’S SPREADING!!

And by spreading, I mean boobs.

Orange Poolius

We’ve often wondered what happens to a hott when she spends too many hours Bleething under the scrotal-lamp of douchal projection.

Like Violet Beauregarde before her, Redfacia Crimsonflushe has become what she beheld.

And like the Bible’s Hosea after taking Gomer, the daughter of Diblaim, by knowing her in the lands of grape, she remarks with shame, “I am poo.”

Schmuck L’Orange

When she was a girl, daddy never warned her about the Orange Man.

Schmuck L'Orange

When she was a girl, daddy never warned her about the Orange Man.

Studs Urkel

Because sometimes having just one cross stitched on your felt 10 degree cap tilt just isn’t enough.