Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

'Bag Tagging: Charleston

Elyse writes in with a brevity tag:

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Hey DB1-

Elyse
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A doof indeed, Elyse. A doof indeed.

You have a lovely Karen Allen in Raiders thing. I would make you wear a white dress and let you drink me under the table after grabbing the butter knife, just for the chance to Temple your Dooms. And pretend IV never happened.

The Fratstain

The sorority sisters of Putta Cappa Enuras enjoyed playing with the latest life size inflatable doll, the Fratstain.

Dale the Carpenter

Look, I’m not an elitist, nor a classist. I try to be egalitarian.

I believe semi-employed working class salt-of-the-earth middle age outer Swampscott living carpenter workmen, like Dale here, have every right to save up their income after hanging around outside a Home Depot and go out to neck-tackle sorority girls from nearby Bunker Hill Community College, like Kelly here.

But must you 45 tilt the hat, Dale?

It just makes you creepy.

Orange Jeter’s Cynthia

She may not have won the Monthly along with Orange Jeter, but Cynthia is what noted physicist Niels Bohr once described as “The Shniznit Ass.” Therefore we honor her barely legal hottness with a rare HC Only pic.

Although that dude in the fedora way in the back is a potential stage-1 Hipsterbag.

I would para-sail over the Bolivian salt flats of Salar de Uyuni on a sixteen year odyssey to locate her discarded mascara tissue that eventually settled into a sand dune after being carried on a freakish oceanic down-wind Nor’Easter back in 2007.

And then I would use it to make Cynthia Eye Sweat Soup.

Which the Maori believe can cure rickets.

Orange Jeter's Cynthia

She may not have won the Monthly along with Orange Jeter, but Cynthia is what noted physicist Niels Bohr once described as “The Shniznit Ass.” Therefore we honor her barely legal hottness with a rare HC Only pic.

Although that dude in the fedora way in the back is a potential stage-1 Hipsterbag.

I would para-sail over the Bolivian salt flats of Salar de Uyuni on a sixteen year odyssey to locate her discarded mascara tissue that eventually settled into a sand dune after being carried on a freakish oceanic down-wind Nor’Easter back in 2007.

And then I would use it to make Cynthia Eye Sweat Soup.

Which the Maori believe can cure rickets.

Crimson Ted Celebrates Winning HCwDB of the Month

Today’s DB portion of the HCwDB of the Month Winner, Crimson Ted, seems to have lost his car keys.

Reader Mail: The Brotherbag

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Dear Douchebag1,

Sincerely,
A Douchebag’s Sis
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Much like when a family member converts to Scientology, joins the Hare Krishnas, or starts watching Dancing with the Stars claiming ironic detachment but you know it isn’t, the sibling you once knew is now gone, A.D.S. The only solution is to firehose his ass when he’s crossing the street, and then mock his hat tilt from a safe distance.

Orange Psycho

Is his stuffed mother in his attic orange as well?

And I see the Spectral Hand of the Collective Unconscious is female this time.

As to the two girls who look like my babysitters when I was eight, can I stay up and watch Dynasty? I’ll put my head on your lap and pretend to sleep, and be confused by the strange tingling in my peepee area.

Which was chlamydia.

Wednesday Limerick

Slut pyramid looks squishy and sweaty,
Douchewank makes a face like spaghetti.
The skank factor’s high,
And that turd’s face can’t deny,
That this whole mess should get run over by Mario Andretti.

HCwDB of the Month: Crimson Ted

There really is no competing with an orange middle aged lounge lizard in a cardigan who consistently pulls leggy blondes. Crimson Ted took the Monthly with ease. The voters speak:

Yahoo Scrotius: Crimson Ted. The dude is 40-something, droopy-pants, spiked up ridiculousness. That alone is mock-worthy. But here’s the bizzaro element: he has two completely-out-of-his-league hotts with him, and yet he looks pissed off! WTF? He should be basking in the nirvana of their peroxide glow and angling for a chance to slurp butterscotch sundae topping off those glorious legs. But Ted can’t bask. He’s too angry. And that’s douchey.

Ojo Rojo: Ted. Mainly because I hate the club promoter douche. That, and the fact that I’d really like to give something to scrunched-up-face-hott on the left something to scrunch up her face about.

Hue Grand: February must always be remembered as the month of Crimson Ted.

Grey Douche: For his tireless dedication and commitment, Crimson Ted is already in the running for douche of the decade.

Anonymous: they all suck but crimson ted for his body of work. dude get out of the club and into bed with the new james patterson novel.

Emma: Crimson Ted FTW. He makes me want to shoplift a rubber glove so I can slap my sleeping Chihuahua with it whilst watching Tivo-ed episodes of Martha Stewart and doing the Mexican hat dance. In other words, he is wrong, so very, very wrong.

Medusa Oblongata: A bloated middle-ager sporting ill-fitting clothes, spray-tan, anime villain hair and mugging on women the same age as the daughter he likely has, is more than a douche. He is a man in crisis, crying desperately for help. Screaming, actually, like Stanley Kowalski under Stella’s window. The despair reeks from my monitor like AXE from the men’s room at this meathouse of a nightclub he frequents.

Douchetopia: Crimson Ted makes me want to punch a skinny chihuahua puppy and then do a backflip off a cliff into a pile of steaming shit. That feeling must stop, so I vote that he gets made fun of for a whole month for being so fucking stupid that he fake and baked until he turned purple.

Stupid chihuahuas. They need a beat down for Crimson Ted’s crimes. More votes for the Tedster:

Archidouchies: He’s orange, he’s extremely serious, he has repetition, and frankly I think he could go up against Sam Scrote with his creepy point and stare.

Erin: He spreads awkward like a chimp tossing poo, causing everyone else in his pics look albino and uncomfortable. Clearly, Crimson Ted has the douchtermination to win the monthly. “Orange is the new pasty.”

Shamespear the Magnificent: Crimson Ted. For reminding me of the Evil Monkey in the Closet from Family guy.

Anonymous: Crimson Ted is undoubtedly the #1 seed in this bracket. Therefore, I must vote for him. No cinderellas.

Douchille Bag’Neill: He has a body of work that rivals many in the Hall. His hotts are bleeted and clownfaced. His pointing and subtle undie poking are old-school douche. Of these choices he is Methuselah, aged and defiant in the face of the youth that surrounds him. Loving poo, and sharing that with others. Ted, Ted, Ted FTW.

But the Orange Jeter and Cynthia in 2009: An Orange Odyssey powered into a strong second place finish:

blair: But Jeter and Cynthia are a wonderful pair. Together, their scrote-hott is powerful. Jeter is that dick that always gets the hot chick, even though he can’t afford the leased beemer 3-series that he drives. He’s the dude that hits on chicks on the way to the bathroom, while his girl sits patiently at the bar tearing up a napkin waiting for him to return. Cynthia? Ah, she’s the fresh breeze that blows into the lecture hall at the beginning of a semester of Psych 101, wearing a loose fit shirt that you can see down if you lean in close, as though entranced with the subject matter. Her thighs are soft, yet surprisingly firm, teasing your very soul.

Dr. Douchebag: The Orange middle finger gun seals the win. She might be the hottest hott of all hotts. Like ever.

Captain Bringdown: Oh, sweet Cynthia, I would do almost anything for you. Just name it. Defenestrate your dad for that one time in high school when he took away your keys for coming home late? Check. Poison the neighbor’s dog for barking at night and preventing you from dreams that don’t include me? Check. Hand-cleaning all of your underwear with my patented saliva enzyme cleanser and chewing agitation, followed by gentle drying by draping them over my nostrils? Oh, double ch-ch-check.

Boston Brownstain: Orange FTW in a late-innings comeback powered by Cynthia’s nascent Bleethdom. I said a novena for Cynthia yesterday.

Indeed, Cynthia is a lollipop of delight, and O.J. sucks baseballs. They’ll be up for a 2009 Douchie Award, no doubt about it. Maybe even two. As to the others, Rusty The Frill-Necked Lizard came in third, with Flame Broiler and Candy Girl a distant fourth:

creature: Rusty the Frill Necked Lizard & Vegas Tramp Hott are the ebola virus of douche… quick, cover them with a penicillin tarp before they explode over my monitor. oops to late

Mr. Bungle: My vote will go to The Flame Broiler based purely on the fact that Candy Girl deserves an intervention, and by intervention, I mean intercourse, with me.

But there was no stopping the four pics of Crimson Ted’s collective body of (orange) work and his tasty leggy lounge hotts from taking the Monthly with ease. The Douche of Earl takes us home:

his over zealous use of the classic douchebag move of trying to be ironic yet still conform annoys me to great lengths. His point into the cosmos will reak havoc in my dreams just knowing there are many more like him, even oranger and more douchtastic.

Yes. Yes there are. And we will mock all of them.

Book a spot in the 2009 Yearly for the now legendary Crimson Ted and his ladies.