Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Smarm Candy

Who did Patty call when she was desperate for someone take her to the clubs on Saturday?

1-800-Smarm-Candy.

(Little did Patty know that phone numbers are only 7 digits, so she really only had to dial 1-800-Smarm-Ca.)

The Unabagger

Somewhere… in a cabin in a woods in rural Montana… one lone doucher plots… to be “da bomb.”

Champagne Katie Can’t Wait to Prosecute Against This Site

HCwDB of the Week hott winner Champagne Katie responds to HCwDB in the comments threads:

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I can’t wait to prosecute against this site! By the way my name is janira who ever put this up better be making money. I did not give permision for my picture to be put up on this dumb ass shit people get a life seriously this is what I call people and dumb asses with no life.
—–

Not only did I put up this site, but I recently discovered commas.

Where’s Collegiate Pudwank Waldouche?

Somewhere in this lineup of pillow fighting state school giggle bobbs named Kelly, all of whom hate math, I’ve carefully hidden a collegiate pudwank Waldouche.

Look closely.

Can you find him asking confused foreign exchange students what their major is?

HCwDB of the Week: Toxic Terry and Angelica

It was a rockerpud douche-slide.

Many, like Army of Doucheness, observed that this may be the douchewank from some briefly famous band called Crazytown. Regardless, no Rockstar Leniency Rule granted.

This wiggachoad deserves our full collective mock. And Angelica’s sweet, sweet curves deserve our collective gnaw. Some of the immediate responses:

Wheezer: I smell a Weekly winner. And it’s a stench of Axe, poo, and last night’s late patty melt rush at the Waffle House.

Douche Springsteen: Is that the dude from Crazy Town? And is that some sort of hybrid of Peg Bundy / Donna from That 70s Show that escaped from a lab that brings my bizarre TV sitcom character sex fantasies to life?

Luis Douchuel: Oooh celebridouche. Somehow this makes me feel better. And by feel better I mean puke.

Mr. White: re: the Crazy Town douche AND the Katy Segal hott. I want her to dress up like Lela from Futurama and play cyclops sex games with me.

Foxy Mocksy: Tough guy exterior with emotional problems interior is like crack to the ladies. You are most assuredly correct DB1. The ladies that can’t see through this ploy. Take your wounded tattooed bunny routine elsewhere douchebag.

Deltus: She is far too tasty yumm gargle rinse repeat to be anywhere near him, “celebrodouche” or not. Actually tough guys would wipe their asses with him. Not his shirt, mind, but *him*.

But Magnum Douche P.I. sums it up best with the following:

The term “celebrity” has gotten extremely watered down over the past few years. This guy is a slapable douche, no matter if he was on some reality show I never hear of or not.

Yes. Yes he is. And she is tasty.

Together, a quite viable hottie/douchey dialectic to go with your Monday Irish Coffees, and a worthy next entrant in our next HCwDB of the Month.

(Dis)honorable mention to the increasingly nottadouche and heroic Frobot, Skippy and Timmy Playboy Gangstas, The infant suckletude of Sailor Sam and Kelly, and the irritating Angry Lip Guy Shushes You. Also there was the confounding Kennedy Head Wound ‘Bag, and, of course, the important news that The Donkster Goes Free!

An important week of douchable developments on many fronts. But now your humble narrator will eat a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Or two.

The King’s Speech

In honor of tonight’s Academy Awards, The King wanted to drop by and say hi to everyone, and, of course, give a speech:

King: I pretend to have fun for money!

Yes you do, King.

Yes you do.

Little Skippy Records a Song!

Good for you, Little Skippy!! During playtime, everyone’s a winner!!

Now clean up the dishes and then you can watch an hour of Nickelodeon before bed.

What Happens in Vegas Flips You Off in Vegas

Nothing redeemable here. Nuke… site… orbit. Lets move on.

Friday Thoughts and Links

I’m gonna go easy on ya for this Friday Thoughts and Links.

So have a lineup of tremendous, award winning purity gnaw, and with only minimal ‘baggage.

With only a likely nottadouche Brothabag whoopin’ it up in the background. And his whiteboy sidekick over there on the left, Jon.

Jon don’t say much. But he does love the Vegas In for the Weekend Bachelorette Party Woo Hotts from Arizona State.

As do we.

So we can’t begrudge Brothabag Frankie or Sidekick Jon. Here’s two nottadouches and goinpeaces Now get out of the pic. There’s legs to gnaw.

Here’s your links:

Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Hey, Cookie. How about we stop playing all these games?”

Of the many Guido Dances we’ve laughed at over the years, none were as innovative as the techno basketball shot.

If you’ve ever wondered what happened to E.T. and Eliot, here’s your answer.

There are many images of America. Very few explain the inherent contradictions of Americana quite like this image of two billboards. My new motto: I’d rather be at Big Jim’s Boobie Bungalow.

HCwDB reader Emmitt makes a video where he goes Cougar Hunting.

Want one image from a book from your childhood that’ll make you cry? Here you go.

Mmm… librarian hotts on “Community.” One of the best shows on TV right now.

The Bieber Movie: For Guys.

Speaking of children’s books, here’s a disturbing development: Teaching toddlers to wear douche-shirts.

But you’re not hear for children’s books. You’re here for Pear:

Lines Pear

Mmm… like two marshmallow aliens fighting for global supremacy on planet suckle thigh.

Go out. Go out and mock/lust. For the weekend is uponst.

Boobies and Stupid Glasses

I’m not sure which clubvelopment of 2011 confuses me more.

The recent development for the Hotts to ditch clothing all together and go with paint/sticker boob reveal, or slotted sunglasses that look like a leftover cucoloris used to light the set of American Gigolo.

The glasses? Standard douchewear.

The boob reveal? Now I am as big a boobal aesthetic appreciator of spectatorship as the guy on the subway who drools on himself and shouts about Castro. But too much reveal, while appreciated on a lizard brain level, also does not establish a contextual eros. Therefore, I must rule: Too much reveal = Bleeth. For there is sensual cleavite reveal. And then there is tape on the nip.