Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

No More “Caption This Pic” Aquarium Bag

Fishbag writes in:

—-
Subject: Lawsuit-erase my picture

Hello,

Take care and hope this issue gets resolved a.s.a.p
—-

I certainly would not want to upset a professional modeling career.

And yes, I would like to supersize my filet-o-fish meal. Thank you for asking.

No More "Caption This Pic" Aquarium Bag

Fishbag writes in:

—-
Subject: Lawsuit-erase my picture

Hello,

Take care and hope this issue gets resolved a.s.a.p
—-

I certainly would not want to upset a professional modeling career.

And yes, I would like to supersize my filet-o-fish meal. Thank you for asking.

HCwDB of the Week

A surprisingly tough week to cull down to three finalists, as we had a nice and varied cross-section of scrote/hott to choose from. But cull I did, and by cull I mean mock, and by boobies I mean tatines. Here are your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Ghoulbag

Because his is an important subsection of douchescrotery, and far different than standard East Coast Jerz Poo or West Coast Mandana “Mark McGrath from Sugar Ray” grease, we should note it.

By which I mean laugh at his tough, faux-gangsta face, then steal Kimmy, Kelly and Katharine when he’s in the bathroom re-applying his eyeliner.

Note the “double-rock” hand gesture. Swingy Jesus Bling.

And, as a number of commenters noted, the rare “double-belt that is the same belt in which even one of these belts would be douchey, but two is uber-pooey.” And pink, only semi-opaque, sun-dresses make the baby Krishna dance.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Gun Swinger

While “Hello Titty” was a popular suggestion, I’m going with the more accurate tag of “The Gun Swinger” to explain this bizarre confluence of kabuki gangsta and enhanced boobie.

But yes, the pink “Hello Kitty” biker gloves are sheer genius.

The dual chin pubes, greasy in the extreme.

The question is does Gun Swinger inspire rage?

I’m not sure. I’d like to see him mocked, but part of me thinks he might be a hilarious guy to have a beer with. Therefore his cohabitation with this enhanced, perky, extremely Bleethed hott, does not rankle. Still, they are finalist material, if for no other reason than boobies.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: A Clockwork Orange

Can a Eurodouche Droog take the weekly on the sheer force of shoe-polish orange euroscrotery?

That is the question, me brothers.

Clockwork has no hand gestures. Little bling. Very little outward signs of faux-masculine tough talking asswankery. Yet he is uber-douche with both Orange Tan and the infamous “Mark of the ‘Bag” on his forehead.

Veruca is perky, sweet, confused innocence. I would swat her bottom and send her home without supper.

So them’s your three.

Which combination of douche and hott is most noxious enough to get ripped off by VH1 after a meeting, drained of wit, and produced without a credit nor payment? Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Wheatstalks And The Search for the Golden Leaf

2008 Douchie Winner, the legendary Wheatstalks, wanted to dropy by and smell like poo on this lazy Sunday.

Although the Stalks are wilting a bit there, Wheat. Might need to harvest early this season.

As to Golden Leaf Blonde Princess Hott, yes please, with a side order of cole slaw, some chicken fat for dipping, and a Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray.

A Clockwork Orange

Being the adventures of a young man whose principal interests are backgammon, bike riding, and minstrel orange-face.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Random thoughts, pics and links, on this early January Friday:

HCwDB’s own Army of Doucheness dresses up to ask us, What Would Samurai Scrote Do?

Oh the irony.

No hot chicks? No job? No future? No problem!

The Yak like ladies with cherries.

Nub still loves the barely legals. And the barely legals love Nub.

2008 Douchie Winner Criss Angel’s Bleething effect on Holly Madison is to turn her into her grandmother, apparently.

I always feel like, Fung is watching me.

On a final, angry DB1, note: As to VH1’s Tool Academy, a show premiering this weekend, many readers are emailing me asking if HCwDB is or was involved with it. The answer is no, however there is a classic Hollywood story about the douchewanks at VH1, and how they came to find their “inspiration” for the show, that I will someday tell. But for now I will only say that there is a legit, and far better, HCwDB project in the works, and it will be the real deal. I will announce more on it soon.

Caption This Pic

PIC DELETED

When Franklyn told Rebecca he had the perfect place to show her his “electric eel,” she thought he meant something else entirely.

Jango Fetthardt

It’s like Jango Fett mated with Django Reinhardt somewhere between Alderaan and a flamenco solo.

And yes, that’s my greatest pop-culture cross-pollination of the month.

Friday Haiku

Crotch first, Glenn triumphs,
Two Russian Cougars from Queens,
And the Hair Point. Dude.

Pointy headed douche
rocks a white belt with mad pride.
It’s right by his junk.

— Maximus Douchemus Meridius

Hair tapered to point
reminiscent of a turd
that I just pinched off.

— Frodouche Baggins

Inga: real estate
Olga: low-rent “socialite”
Glenn: sanitation

— Mr. White

So full from dinner,
Pointy reclines and begs you
To sniff his blue jeans

— Anonymous

Looks like all three shop
at H&M, buy one girl’s
black shirt get two free

— Ronald McDouchenald

Meditations on the Punch-Face

Once, when I was meditating on the boobie hottie suckle thigh in a daisy field in Uttar Pradesh, a young ‘Bag Hunter approached me.

DB1, he asked cautiously, How will I know when the douche-face becomes the punch-face?

Aha, young beetle bug. I responded, laughing lightly and crumbling some pinched snuff in my hands as I squinted in the harsh Punjabi light.

You will know the punch-worthy doucheface by involuntary primal muscle spasm. And only then. Not before. And not after.

He looked confused.

So I reached into my satchel I’d been given on a Maori walkabout in ’02, and handed him this pic.

The young ‘bag hunter glanced down at the picture. Upon registering this tool’s muggy visage, the young one sprang to his feet, twitched forward about twenty paces, then sucker-punched a nearby goat-herder named Umbete in the nads.

He had learned his lesson.