Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Your Saturday Bartenderbag

There’s a thousand glasses on the wall.

So what does Teddy bust to impress Kendra? Yup. Teddy runs with the Goose in an Ubiquitous Red Cup. Natch.

Not that we doubted Teddy’s ‘bag status. The giant white “D&G” belt buckle cinched the deal, lack of hand gestures and bling notwithstanding.

Kendra is perky, healthy and looks buff enough to probably kick my ass. Which is long overdue. For I have been a bad boy. I have forsaken my vegetables.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Okay, Blobby gets a nottadouche, and perhaps a nottahuman.

And yes, if you dropped Jack Black into space via the Battlestar airlock, his bloated corpse would resemble this guy.

But it’s Friday, and she makes my happy pants want to happy dance. So I’m going with it.

Here’s your links:

Hall of Hott sexytime legend, Veronica, has a message for the comments thread regulars.

Jones Cola throws a +1 Saving Throw. And the taste? Chaotic good. D&D is no longer nerdy. It is now retro cool. Star Trek, however, is still nerdy.

When buying Armani-Exchange douche belts online, they offer you the ability to “Add to Bag”. Even Alanis Morrisette can correctly grasp the concept of irony here.

Gummi Lighthouses, with phallic aftertaste. That’s nothing, you should see the Gummi Georgia O’Keeffe flowers.

Bleeth.

Honorary Douchebag of the Month: Evolution denialist, ranting nutjob and 80s child something-or-other, Kirk Cameron. Here’s Kirk Cameron getting a righteous smackdown from a super-hott Eurohottie with a brain. She is a Romanian spitfire of boobie hottie suckle thigh. I would woo her with dandelion wine and bing cherries. She is my fourth future ex-wife.

Some kids have it all.

Then again, the kids aren’t all right.

What’s that? You’re sitting around waiting for your Friday Ass Pear? Well I wouldn’t be much of a humble narrator if I didn’t give it to you.

Here you go. Friday Ass Pear.

Go forth and procreate. And by procreate, I mean leg hump.

Hucky Sheen Says, “I Got Appendix, Yo!”

Yup. It pains me to say it. But Groin Shave Reveal may be one of the 2009 Douchal Innovations of the Year. Here it is on generic suburban assclown, Hucky Sheen.

What does this mean for the crisis of modernity in our current reconfiguration of the national-historical? It means we are in deep, deep poo poo.

Which can only be solved by mocking his sorry, C. Thomas Howell looking doucheclownery, and then lusting after his lost, soft, confused Brunette Hottball.

Hucky Sheen Says, "I Got Appendix, Yo!"

Yup. It pains me to say it. But Groin Shave Reveal may be one of the 2009 Douchal Innovations of the Year. Here it is on generic suburban assclown, Hucky Sheen.

What does this mean for the crisis of modernity in our current reconfiguration of the national-historical? It means we are in deep, deep poo poo.

Which can only be solved by mocking his sorry, C. Thomas Howell looking doucheclownery, and then lusting after his lost, soft, confused Brunette Hottball.

Ode to the Comments Thread Regulars

—–
DB1,

re: “Where’s Waldouche?: Who Cares Where Waldouche Is Edition”

Absolutely, positively the funniest comment thread on your site, or on any site, in the history of the world…..ever. You and your ‘baghunters are to be congratulated.

Douchebagingly yours,
–John from Vegas
—-

I have, hands down, the funniest comments threads on the interwebs. The genius of the regulars and semi-regulars never cease to amaze and crack me up. This site couldn’t be what it is without the contributions in the threads.

I love you people. In a mostly hetero, but slightly gay way for the ‘bag hunters, and leg humping cracked up hump legging for the ‘bag huntresses.

Read the thread here. Excellent comedy as always.

Friday Haiku

Willy’s Wild Years,
Almost up. Then back to school,
To become a clerk.

White fuzzy pom poms
Her stones are more impressive
Now roll on, choadface

— I drink your doucheshake

Posh Spice Hott wonders:
“If he were naked, would the
carpet match the drapes?”

— Douche Wayne

Musical request
“Let’s spend the night together”
UM, she don’t think so

— scrotum pole

Baby blue T-shirt
Topped with pink unicorn hair
Chromatic meltdown

— Franklyn Delano Doucheifelt

The Last Unicorn
His balls hang from her tank top
Laugh until I cry

— Mr. Scrotato Head

I don’t have any
sympathy for the devil
who drinks bladder juice

— Hot Buttered Poopcorn

No More Grillz

From the Grillz on Film thread (and followed up with two subsequent whiny emails), Grillz writes:

—
damn this site used to be good, but taking pictures of me from a bunch of jokes pictures from like 2005 is what this site is all about now?

im just glad that i was even close to a female and the closest you fags came was inches from your mothers asshole and possibly the one time you touched your retarded cousins tits.
—

That’s totally unfair. I’ve touched my retarded cousin’s tits on multiple occasions.

Herman Melville on Douchebaggery

——-
Certain I am, however, that a king’s head is solemnly oiled at his coronation, even as a head of salad. Can it be, though, that they anoint it with a view to making its interior run well, as they anoint machinery?

Much might be ruminated here, concerning the essential dignity of this regal process, because in common life we esteem but meanly and contemptibly a fellow who anoints his hair, and palpably smells of that anointing. In truth, a mature man who uses hair-oil, unless medicinally, that man has probably got a quoggy spot in him somewhere. As a general rule, he can’t amount to much in his totality.
—-

From Melville’s Moby Dick, Norton Critical Edition p.101 (h/t Marcel Douchechamp )

Hucky Sheen

The lost Sheen brother ain’t doing so well since they canceled his role in Men at Work 2.

Ask DB1: Aviator Sunglasses

—-
Dear DB1,

Thanks,
Jared
—-

I’m not ready to place aviator sunglasses into “autodouche” status just yet. Take this Ed Hardy disaster, mugging a Quartasian Lovely Paid to Pose Hott.

If that garish spectacle of a t-shirt were not being worn, he might even earn a nottadouche, as there is no major ‘tude, no hand gestures, no garish tatts, and no general sleeze. So, for now, I’m willing to let aviator sunglasses slide.