Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Jeb, The Backwoods 'Bag

In the small towns and backwoods of America, they see what’s happening across the nation. And they say to themselves, “Why not here?”

Witness Jebediah.

He doesn’t hve the means to purchase a ridiculous Ed Hardy shirt. Nor sculpt intricate facial pube formations. So what’s a ‘bagling to do when rubbing up on Clarissa, the local hott?

Why, improvise, of course.

Muttonchop Finds Love

I believe it was the great poet Robert Frost who once versed:

‘Ere though I walk through a summer’s eve,…
That smells as douchey as muttonchop’s sleeve,…
Lo! Hark, behold a hott,…
She kisses Muttonchop and becomes infected by the Grieco Virus, only to mutate into a douchebaguette, although her boobs are tasty regardless.

I’m paraphrasing, the actual Frost poem may have been slightly different.

The Pole Lickers

Frost tips and ‘bling don’t make you a ballsy “Renegade,” Jamie. They just make you douchey.

And I see you, Michelle on the left. I know you want me to rub melted candy corns on your lower neck and then jump in a pool full of mint jelly.

And I will do so.

Not because I want to.

But because boobies make it a moral imperative.

Trina in the Middle

What’s interesting here is that as the boatbags on the right push in, and the hotts on the left push in, we find a delightful little Pixie Hott crushed in a hott/douche vortex.

Note Pixie Hott’s hat tilt with sticker on her otherwise wholesome and squishy soft body. This is when hott and douche collide to spread Grieco Virus infection.

Pixie Hott, whom I will call Trina, has become infected by douchal plague.

She needs help.

By which I mean me, softly fondling her inner thigh with an ostrich feather and a Shamwow.

Broheim Jenner says “Vote, bro!”

Douchebag Emeritus Brody Jenner knows who he’s voting for in the HCwDB of the Week.

Do you?

Broheim Jenner says "Vote, bro!"

Douchebag Emeritus Brody Jenner knows who he’s voting for in the HCwDB of the Week.

Do you?

HCwDB of the Week

Your humble narrator, The DB1, is washed, shaved and Shamwowed on this Monday Morning. I got my Corn Pops properly milkified. My hangover is rapidly dissipating. The alpacas are fed. The yaks are milked.

But there is work to do, and I need your help. Which of these three pics deserves the Weekly Mock? Here are your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Crimson Goose

It’s about time we get some classic Burnt Jerz Guid back into the mix.

On the left, greasy Jersey douchebag pulling the combo Goose Fondle + Text move.

On the right, tasty Long Island Trashy Hott, all revved up and ready to be ravished.

And the hint of Holy White Triangle? Que bella.

But the topper is the bookshelf wallpaper. Because actual reading is not necessary. Together, you have the vortex of cultural suckage that is the HCwDB plague.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Deep Scrote aka Deep in the Scrote of Texas

Truth is, I have no idea if this is Texas, Chicago, or if Kevin Costner’s producing Field of Dreams II: Boobies in the Outfield.

Alls I know is this is classic hottie/douchey spew.

A double play of douche.

A home run of histamine.

A curveball of taint crud.

A something basebally that begins with the same letter as something douchey.

For roided up smugness, douchey Jesus tatts, and a nasty chin pube infection, Deep Scrote deserves our mock.

For great boobs and a clueless, befuddled expression, Texas Rose deserves our lust.

Together, they make Reece’s Pooses.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Sarah’s Terds

Rarely does a reader ‘bag tag make the Finals, but Sarah’s tagging of these two Orlando Pimpstas deserves its shot.

The girls are Girl-Next-Door Tourist sexy.

The dudes are rocker douche you scrape off the bottom of your shoe. Combined, this is real world HCwDB in all the wrong ways.

They are “peacocking” in the worst Mystery-ified way.

And for that, they deserve our mock. But enough to win the Weekly? That remains to be seen.

I reluctantly eliminated Descending Ass Pear and Poo (props to Blair for the name) for pro-posery and lack of cohabitation. But methinks that pic is a finalist at the 2009 Douchie Awards for Most Likely to be Part of the Permanent Collection at the Guggenheim in 2023 award.

And (dis)honorable mention also goes to Crappy Gilmore, the boatbaggery of Skinny Ted and the franks-n-beans and potential underage hottedness of The Hebrew Hammer. All just missed the cut.

But them’s your three.

Which is worthy?

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

How to Give George a “Blowout”

There is no hope. Even the mannequins are douching it up.

And when the Guidette says “I’ll hold it for you,” it doesn’t mean what you think it means.

How to Give George a "Blowout"

There is no hope. Even the mannequins are douching it up.

And when the Guidette says “I’ll hold it for you,” it doesn’t mean what you think it means.

Ass Pear La Plante

Many of us were thunderstruck by poetic inspiration after witnessing Friday’s Ass Pear La Plante.

Ass Pear La Plante calls to us. It asks us to step beyond the binaries of race, class and gender, beyond the categories of societal imposition, to consider spectral humanity. The ethereal. The philosophic. The play-doh funbaggery of ass peardom.

Flesh goblets of joy muscle.

Globes of hindquarter.

Bouncy jelly rolls.

They echo through the ages with the spring of youth. A soft, spongey firmness that rebuts the real world impositions of sag, despoiling and decay. Hidden in the dark crevasses between each cheek, we find hope. A future world of singing bluejays and dancing lute players. Rainbows and waterfalls, unicorns and talcum powder butt bongo grabby grab.

Therefore we must pause and appreciate the Ass Pear La Plante, sans douchebag.

For it shows us the way.