Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Hoodie Allen

Is this the latest moment of inspiration for the auteur behind “Broadway Douchey Rose,” “The Purple Scrotes of Cairo” and “Stardust Mammaries”?

I speak, of course, of the inspiration of the “Hoodie over Yankee Hat Tilt.”

While arm-hooking an Annie Hall Cuddlehott and playing the skin flute every Monday at Michael’s Pub.

And the hand gesture? You guessed it. “Match Point.”

The Incredible Yolk

Yolk will stare at you until you vote in the HCwDB of the Week.

Don’t make him orangey.

You wouldn’t like him when he’s orangey.

HCwDB of the Week

After a healthy and relaxing weekend gorging on Hostess Fruit Pies and Dr. Brown’s Black Cherry Soda (an excellent combo, subtle yet soothing), your humble narrator is fired up and ready to mock some scrote and lust after some suckle thigh.

Here’s your finalists.

HCwDB Finalist of the Week #1: Rusty the Frill-Necked Lizard

A write-in candidate from the last Weekly, Rusty earns his shot this week due to a core, dedicated group of readers who demanded satisfaction.

And by satisfaction, they meant another chance to mock Roosterhawk and a sexy slut-hott.

I’d initially D.Q.’d Rusty for the pro-douche look and for the relatively high Bleeth level of his hott. But what cannot be denied is that Rusty is a huge sack of scrotal sweatsock.

That being said, look for the subtleties mixed in with the loudness. Note the tiny chinpubes. The elevation of sunglasses over ear. It’s the little touches that make the Vegas Choad go from generic-bag into legend.

And Sylvia offers tighty short-shorts and a bony, if still highly gnawable, upper glute area.

Together, they make Dragon poo and Flower.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Tony Broma

Tony Broma and Lorie Hott are classic, back-to-basics denim HCwDB stench.

She is all that is sweet and wholesome and causes magpies to dance in synchronization in corn fields while horny bullfrogs mount a nearby Maypole.

Broma, on the other hand, is ass.

Note the douche-sneer. The ginormous mandana. The bizarre redesigned “Shocker +”.

Lorie offers cleavite.

Broma offers three fingers in the pooer.

What more does one need to become so inspired by hottie/douchey rage that only the punching of a stigmatic Nun will subside the voices inside one’s head.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: For The Wank

For introducing pasty-ass acronym tatts, FTW deserves a shot to be mocked in the Weekly.

And let us not forget the tasty balls of Vegas Hotts on either arm.

Suburban girls on Spring Break from Bennington. And since it’s cold up in Vermont, they’ll cuddle up to any doughey Wonderbread thing that presents itself at the Hard Rock.

I almost disqualified FTW for the weekly, even though FTW could be an acronym “For the Weekly.”

Because he just looks so darn Opie innocent and happy.

But then I noticed the crotch reveal. And stupid-hatt. And since both girls are lovely, it’s a Finalist.

(Dis)honorable mention to the unGodly stench of Smote This and the beauticious Zeppelins of The Eiffel Towers, both of whom lost out for not having proper hottie/douchey dialectic. Too far in one direction or the other, and an unbalanced pic is to be had.

And by unbalanced, I mean large saline tatines. But your three are your three.

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Is this Crusty?

Is this HCwDB legend and Hall of Scrote member, The Crustacean?

More evidence of Crusty mugging the Miami Beach hotts here and here.

Douche-face and greasy mauling of a bikini hott in a sketch kitchen.

You still got it, Crusty, if that is you.

Welcome Back, Crotcher

Curvy pink cotton lampshade lemonade strawberry boobieberry hottness?

Check.

A stubbly club-douche with four inches of undies poke, smug sneer, silly neck name tatt, and overall stench of week-old bodyspray and half-eaten nachos? Who looks like Black Gabe Kaplan?

Check.

Together, we find the dichotomy of your Sunday enlightenment.

Breaking: Pittsburgh Steelers Kicker Jeff Reed Arrested for being a Douche

Steeler Jeff Reed charged with criminal mischief

When Reed left the bathroom, he spoke to a Sheetz employee using loud and profane language. He continued to use profane language outside the store, police said.

Your Saturday Acronym

Anabolic Nads Fondler?

Archetypal Nerd Foreskin?

A ‘Nnoying Fratbag?

Where’s Waldorange?

Somewhere in this lineup of delightful, perky Freshman co-ed hotts and ubiquitous red cups, I’ve carefully hidden a creepy-ass Orange Waldouche, as well as Brothabag Jim, who gets a pass for having a good time chillin’ with the white chicks.

But where is Waldorange?

Look closely.

Can you find him?

Hint for difficulty: Look for the Fraggle Chin.

Where's Waldorange?

Somewhere in this lineup of delightful, perky Freshman co-ed hotts and ubiquitous red cups, I’ve carefully hidden a creepy-ass Orange Waldouche, as well as Brothabag Jim, who gets a pass for having a good time chillin’ with the white chicks.

But where is Waldorange?

Look closely.

Can you find him?

Hint for difficulty: Look for the Fraggle Chin.

Friday Thoughts and Links

My thoughts turn to fluffy kittens and boobie sunrises on this Friday.

Because I cracked a bottle of Thunderbird and downed six Twinkies, and now I’m seeing tiny dancing hula skirted hotts in pink bikinis, marred only by screaming, ambigiously Asian tongue-dudes.

It’s just wrong.

Here’s your Friday links:

Ed Hardy now makes wine. The baby Jesus just spit up pea soup in his holy crib in the sky.

You’re going to love Vince’s nuts. Who knew that the Shamwow! was a stepping-stone to higher class pitch products?

Asian Chicks with Zombiebags. This video is just plain bizarre.

Basebag. It’s been berry berry orange to him.

Is this pic our second viewing of 2009 A Douche Odyssey’s Cynthia? And, either way, can I slobber on her knees like a brain damaged doberman?

I guess this has been around for a bit, but it’s pretty hilarious: Show me your genitals. This guy’s my new hero.

Eagle-eyed reader Rob catches 2008 Douchie of the Year winner The Metaphysical Hooligan in the background of a pic on the site back in May of 2007. Nice catch, Rob.

And just because Mad Men in on hiatus, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about you, Peyton List, my little librarian boobie hottie. Someday I will gnaw on your used mascara container like a confused koala bear.

And I see you too, Christina Hendricks. While I’m sure you’re a ginormous pain in the ass in real life, your mamms call for me to suckle them like a hungry Malaysian treefrog. After I’m done confusing, and then annoying Peyton List, you will have the pleasure of getting bored with me and turning on MSNBC while I apologize for my awkward leg fondling, then sigh and get up to get a Mr. Pibb out of the fridge.

Go forth, ‘bag hunters and huntresses on this Friday, mock a scrote, and save a suckle thigh.

For we are legally validated.