Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Lake Dickheadus

For many decades, the locals who live around Lake Dickheadus have had to put up with strangers and tourists harrassing them about the strangely named lake’s origins.

Like their more famous neighbors at Lake Titicaca and Lake Shittypoopoo, the name attracts much unwanted attention to this small, sleepy rural town.

“Do you realize your lake is named Lake Dickhead? That’s hilarious!”, the tourists are often overheard commenting to the locals. And the locals respond, Yes, we know. It is actually named after an ancient Indian tribe, The Dickheadoquoi.

But that doesn’t stop the tourists from snickering.

Webster Voted

All right, I’ll grant Webster a nottadouche.

Simply for being nice enough to suffer from a genetic disorder just so he could remain so adorably cherubic.

HCwDB of the Week

While it’s hard to fire up a Weekly as potent as last week’s scrotal/boobal smackdown, this Week’s sampling of choad platter represents just fine. Like a tasty, tangy cheese platter. With gouda.

Here be your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Alice in Scroterland

While there’s a bit of a “dressup” vibe to this pic, especially in terms of Alice’s look, this posse of krunkstain is undeniably and authentically dog poop.

That’s right. Dog poop.

The smelly New York un-picked-up kind.

Tatts of chinese letters and guns. Mandanas and “Westside” hand gestures.

And with Ray Liotta ‘Bag in the middle actually bringing a dancing cane (?) to the procedings. You know. To bring a touch of class.

Alice is sweet, innocent, and lost. Even if she spends her days doing blow at the Chateau Marmont hoping Tim Burton’ll cast her as “Dancing Tree Creature #3” in his upcoming film, Every Children’s Book Written Between 1845 and 1962.

Yeah, I’m taking shots at Tim Burton. But only because I care. Mocking Michael Bay’s racist robots just doesn’t offer the same aesthetic je ne sais quois.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Schmuckhead

Yeah, maybe Smuckhead isn’t the most creative ‘tagging, but whaddaya want. I was hopped up on painkillers last week like a pre-morphinated Michael Jackson.

And besides. With a triumverate of Latina Hottness rubbing up on a Club Choad this rank, I could name this pic “Mother Theresa Feeds a Baby Seal” and it would still rankle.

Schmuckhead brings the forehead grease, as well as increased Claudina Ass Pear, in pic #2

And, as the comments thread notes, those are Ed Hardy-esque dresses on the hotts. The Bleething process is rapidly advanced.

And can only be saved by our collective mock.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: The Bleach Baller

This pic was crowded out of the field last week, but it’s deservingly toxic wrongness has remained with me like undigested lo mein from a crappy Chinese restaurant.

Therefore it deserves its shot.

The double hott factor is off the chart — two Long Island Kimmy Hotts, potentially Semitic librarian types to powder my bottom and send me to bed without supper.

As Massengill expertly tagged in the comments threads, Boy Wonderbread (pic #2) is indeed The Yak and Mindy from March of ’08. And since Mindy was already up for a 2008 Douchie Award, and they lost the Weekly (to Tighty Armani), they’re disqualified from recompeting.

HCwDB of the Week finalists are for virgins only. And by virgins, I mean taint.

Purple Nurple was also a tough near-miss. But these are the hard decisions I has to makes.

So them’s your three.

Which pic offers just the right toxic mix of sexy curveyness and scrotal taint to deserve elevation to HCwDB of the Week?

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Gatorade Sunday

There are many pretenders to the hottie/douchey throne.

There is only one Gator.

Pitstop Pete

Don’t like Pitstop Pete?

He don’t like you neither.

Reader Mail: A Gator Tag In Person

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DB1-

: ) Taylor
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This pic has it all, Taylor. A Gator Disciple, complete with chest shave reveal. A hidden hott, being ignored by both douches more interested in fondling each other.

And of course, The Gator. In both corporeal and spectral presence.

Making hand gesture, monotone face and with a wristwatch the size of a small Bangledeshi boy. Excellent work, Taylor. You deserve a +1 ‘Bag Tagging award.

It’s like seeing the Pope in person.

The Pope of Poo.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Your humble narrator is still in a bit of a haze.

Between the loss of John Hughes, the bizarro week of car-crashery for me, the extended afterglow of Monday’s epic HCwDB of the Week, I’m abuzz and atwitter.

Despite a week of personal injury, I am on the mend. The genius of the regs in the comments threads, as well as the daily emails of hottie/douchey pic submissions, kept me going and powered me through.

Thanks to everyone who has emailed the DB1, either to wish me recovery or simply to send in a pic for my consideration of mock. If I did not write back, I blame the power of the Smoot + Crystal unholy wrongness. It’s enough to slaughter puppies.

Here’s your Friday Links:

Mmmm… sexy Texas librarians. Sadly, this is one where the idea was far better than the execution. Yeesh. Better stick to my librarian fantasies and skip the real thing.

A RIP to the late, great Budd Schulberg, who passed away this week at the age of 95. Author of the brilliant What Makes Sammy Run?, one of the books that got me through high school, as well as movies like On the Waterfront, Schulberg is one of the greats. RIP.

Ladies, I’m all for you ditching your douchey husbands, but this might be a bit much.

While the song itself is kind of annoying, I heartily approve of its message: F@ck Ed Hardy.

Yet Ed Hardy is now branding underwear. We’re losing, people. We must keep mocking.

Supercool Winkytool. “Binky lieber meine winky”? Who knew Germans could be so funny? You know who didn’t know that Germans could be so funny? All of Europe.

Reader Eliza creates some hilarious fan art inspired by HCwDB: Douche Bugz. Nicely done, Eliza!

Speaking of Germany, how about some tasty Bavarian Ass Pear.

And if that’s not enough of a meal, here’s some Ass Pear Salad. You’ve earned it.

To get you through your Friday.

Schmuckhead Says “Check my groin!”

There’s forehead shine. There’s massive forehead shine. And then there’s Schmuckhead.

There’s Ass Pear. There’s curvy Ass Pear. And then there’s Claudina Ass Pear.

Someone’s making a push for the Weekly.

And by push, I mean female butt loaves of half baked glute bread. I would gnaw. Oh yes. I would gnaw heartily and with great respect.

Schmuckhead Says "Check my groin!"

There’s forehead shine. There’s massive forehead shine. And then there’s Schmuckhead.

There’s Ass Pear. There’s curvy Ass Pear. And then there’s Claudina Ass Pear.

Someone’s making a push for the Weekly.

And by push, I mean female butt loaves of half baked glute bread. I would gnaw. Oh yes. I would gnaw heartily and with great respect.

Ask DB1: Douchiest Car?

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Dear DB1,

I’ve often felt that cars, as gaudy as some can get, are not strictly douchey based on make and model. Then again, cars like the Jeep Wrangler are pretty hard to excuse. What say you? Is there a car that rises (sinks) above all else to be called the douchomobile?

I’d argue that the main determinant is not the car, but the rims, bling and other assorted adouchetributes.

Blinged out rims? = autodouche.

Fancy “party lights” inside? = uberscrote.

And the air fresheners.

Find one in every car. You’ll see.