Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Assphlegm Twins Get Lucky

Oh Glorious Gloria. You are uberhott of uberhotts.

I tongue your shoes with orgiastic delight.

How your potent smile sings melodic homilies of poetic aural dissonance across a landscape of bunnies and tree humpty hump. How I long to gnaw wistfully uponst your used bobby socks while juggling your grandmother’s seat cushions upon which you sat last Saturday while condescendingly joining her for tea before you went off to your professional pillow fight at a private party in the Hollywood Hills. Allow me to poke your buttock for but a tock of the ticking clock, and the fact of my mortality will be accepted with grace and aplomb.

Where's Poolpud?

Somewhere in this lineup of taut quarter bouncing car alarm sounding vibratorio bellyrub giggle spackle, I’ve carefully hidden a six pack of Poolpud.

Look closely. Can you smirk in three months when they’re manning the fryer at Bob’s Big Boy?

The Captain and Tetnus

I need a shot. Actually, two shots. Penicillin and Johnny Walker.

Lets move on.

HCwDB of the Month: Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy

This wasn’t a vote so much as a coronation. And that wasn’t some easy competition. Mickey the Polyp and Savannah were hottie/douchey enough to win a Monthly. So were The Lickwipe and Sexy Poochtickle Trina.

Hells, Enrique and Paid-to-Pose Tammy weren’t no chump change neither.

Between this pic of tattoo cheek and half-lidded disinterest in presence of Purity Suckle Cindy, and the Guggenheim worthy art masterpiece Innocence and Poo Face, we have us a winner (loser).

The readers speak:

Scoopy Douche: Jerkenstein FTW. Cindy for the back seat of my mom’s ‘67 Chrysler Newport, where I would show her the meaning of “box score”.

Douche of Hazzard: I gotta go with Sleepy. I think he is posing like that to show his eyelid tatts. Stupid tattoos, stupid hat, big fat belly and a hot chick. WTF?

Vin Douchal: Worst combo is Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy. Therefore , they get the vote. And by vote I mean no 9-1-1 call or heimlich when Sleepy chokes on Beef Jerkey. Just a lot of pointing and laughing

FoghornLeghorn: Tough choice this month, but I have to go with Jerkenstein and Cindy. The “Taco God” tattoo on his face pushes him beyond the other douches.

fatness: This one is a matter of extremes…SJ is extremely toxic and Cindy is extremely cute but naive. You just know this evening ended badly with her wandering some dirt road with no memory of the last six hours.

Wheezer: She is everything that is girl-next-door cutie, the one you liked to watch as she’d wash her Dad’s car, help her Mom in the garden, and sit on the school bus laughing and giggling with her friends. She’d always have a nice “Hi” for you when she saw you outside or at school, so you find yourself seething with rage that she’s in any way interested in this rat pizzle.

Indiana Choad and the Temple of Douche: Gotta go with Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy. Assclown deliberately did that so he wouldn’t have to get a job, and can sit around and suck on the welfare teat all day. When he’s not dipping into Cindy’s student loan, that is. Where’s a good chainsaw when you need one?

ehcuodouche: There’s no reason on earth to tattoo “Fear God” under your eyeballs unless you want it to be the target for fists.

Mr. Scrotato Head: Sleepy Jerkstein and Cindy. Because she is real world bad-decision making but not so bad that it’s permanent (unless she’s got Hep-C), and because I want to hear Sleepy’s acceptance speech which will no doubt include something like “Mm-umm-mph. Uhhm. C’n I have sum Cheetos w’that? Yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn, h’come m’eyelids hurt?”

Charles Nelson Douchely: The only way Sleepy could be any scrotier is if it was a Yankees cap tilted sideways on his empty skull. Sleepy FTW.

A total domination of taint. Lets let Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche take us home:

Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy FTW! Why? THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE! He’s like the MacLeod to all the other immortals seen here. They all have their own special skills and weaponry but none is the ultimate match for Sleepy. His face tatts and utter lack of anything even remotely resembling the ability to comprehend that he is considered sentient gives him the the ability to win “The Prize”. All the others are upright, have a facial expression and seem to have the necessary locomotive skills to move unassisted but not Sleepy. No way! Life is WAY over-rated (in his opinion) we’re just all living in his world. AND for that, he wins (loses).

So true. And so tragic. Chalk ’em up for the poo-ly, and me for breakfast cereals of indeterminate origin.

Nerdy Melvin Gets Lucky

Here’s the thing Melvin, and can I call you Melvin?

Assuming you don’t bat for the home team, there’s really only one rule when you’re lucky enough to get Porny Lacey Boobie Suckle Thigh Maria to “Woo!” with you at the requisite pool party.

Rule #1: No Cell-Phone-Speedo.

I might’ve even let the stupid glasses go.

But no.

You are douche.

Boobs.

Breaking: Accountant and Mensa Candiate Teagan Presley Dates a Douchebag

A reader submits this pic of someone named “Teagan Presley” partying with Standard Issue Douchewank #42.

Teagan Presley is, by the looks of it, a professional tax consultant, business professional, Mensa Candidate, and working accountant.

In the world of tax consultants, business professionals, Mensa Candidates, and working accountants, it is rather shocking to find out they’re cohabiting with douchebag.

And by accountants, business professionals, Mensa Candidates, and working accountants, I mean professional ho-ha performer.

This whole pic smells like stripper glitter and daddy issues. Lets move on.

Reader Mail: White Bags

John Evans do very much appreciate the ( white bags ).

——————

Good Day,

John Evans

—————-

Here you go John, two (White Bags ). Free of charge. Boobies not included.

Doucheborg Will Assimilate You

They’re coming for you.

They get you when you sleep.

They’ll play dubstep in your ear and force you to drink Kristal shooters.

A Crime is About to Be Committed

Fortunately for us, it’s only a crime against good taste.

Unfortunately for us, it involves a sampler pack of breakfast cereals, a hand towel, a tube of preparation-H, a forklift, sixteen scratch-n-sniff Strawberry Shortcake stickers from 1983, a small Malayasian orphan named Pepe, and an angry flyswatter.

Believe me, you don’t want to know what an angry flyswatter is.

Where's Waldouche?: Unemployed Rockerpube Edition

Somewhere in this coupling of paid-to-pose and gloriously enhanced cleavite’d Shey-Ling and Fey Alan, I’ve carefully hidden an annoying Hitler Chinned Unemployed Rockerpube.

Look closely.

Can you find boobs?