Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

‘Bag / Nottabag?

Shifty Shawn reeks of DJ Douchepoo aura and smug entitlement as he bothers the delightfully pure and filtered glass of hottwater that is Ambiguously Eastern European Elisa.

But without more obvious adouchetributes, do we have enough evidence to convict?

Mmmm… Ambiguously Eastern European Elisa. I would listen to your high pitched laugh over your inability to understand English, and then I would awkardly follow you to the bathroom, inexplicably get jealous of the catering guy who offers you a pig in a blanket, then wait outside the bathroom until security asked me to leave. And then I would go to In-n-Out and enjoy a tasty double double.

'Bag / Nottabag?

Shifty Shawn reeks of DJ Douchepoo aura and smug entitlement as he bothers the delightfully pure and filtered glass of hottwater that is Ambiguously Eastern European Elisa.

But without more obvious adouchetributes, do we have enough evidence to convict?

Mmmm… Ambiguously Eastern European Elisa. I would listen to your high pitched laugh over your inability to understand English, and then I would awkardly follow you to the bathroom, inexplicably get jealous of the catering guy who offers you a pig in a blanket, then wait outside the bathroom until security asked me to leave. And then I would go to In-n-Out and enjoy a tasty double double.

Reader Mail: Soldier “A” Loses Faith in Humanity Because of Douchebags

—–
Dear DB 1.

-A

—-

Have faith, A, and when you get your ass back stateside, I’m giving you one more mission: Hott Saving. To paraphrase the Torah, he who saves one Hott from a preening pretend tough-guy douchebag, saves the world.

You’ve served your country. Now, when you get home, get to work saving the hott from the ‘bag. Only then will your mission be accomplished.

Reader Mail: Soldier "A" Loses Faith in Humanity Because of Douchebags

—–

Dear DB 1.

-A

—-

Have faith, A, and when you get your ass back stateside, I’m giving you one more mission: Hott Saving. To paraphrase the Torah, he who saves one Hott from a preening pretend tough-guy douchebag, saves the world.

You’ve served your country. Now, when you get home, get to work saving the hott from the ‘bag. Only then will your mission be accomplished.

Scrawnster McFung

I haven’t seen alien plant fung take over a body like that since Doctor Who fought the Krynoid.

Yeah, that’s right. 1970s Doctor Who references.

If you don’t like it, The Dirty is just down the virtual street.

Mmmm… Nikki’s swollen aboobdages call to me like the stolen jello molds I kept under the bed as a child and anthropomorphized by drawing sharpie faces on them. Don’t judge me. Jello Mold imaginary friends got me through 9th grade.

Reader Mail: From Russia With Chin Pube

Reader Tatiana writes in from Russia:

————–

Hiya,

– Tatiana

———————-

In Russia, Douche bags you!

Caption This Pic

And suddenly Suzanne understood how “Lake Herpasaurus” got its name.

Ask DB1: Any Douchebag Harassment Pics?

—–

Dear DB1,

– Soy Bomb

—–

None right now, Soy Bomb, but I do have a pic of douchebags attempting to fondle a giant pic of Marilyn. Which has gotta count for something.

HCwDB of the Week: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters

In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.

The voters speak:

melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run

Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.

Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.

Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.

justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.

Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.

Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.

Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.

Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.

Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.

Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.

Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.

dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.

I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:

douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.

Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.

Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.

Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.

Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…

End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.

Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.

Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.

The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:

Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”

ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.

opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.

Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.

Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.

Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:

Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.

Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.

HCwDB of the Week: The 'Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters

In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.

The voters speak:

melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run

Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.

Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.

Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.

justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.

Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.

Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.

Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.

Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.

Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.

Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.

Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.

dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.

I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:

douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.

Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.

Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.

Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.

Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…

End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.

Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.

Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.

The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:

Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”

ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.

opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.

Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.

Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.

Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:

Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.

Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.