Hot Chicks with Douchebags

Big Douche at the Scottsdale Bars II

2008-07-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

Here's another viral video produced to go with that great Scottsdale song parody, very nicely done.

Or, if you need a jolt of caffeinated scroadchoadpoo (without the hott chaser, sadly, so be warned), check out The Jerz Guido Street Dance.

Trashbags

2008-07-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

The Southwestern Trashbag can be tagged using the following factors:

1. Boat
2. Visors
3. Muscle t-s
4. Bad Credit Rating
4. Unhealthy obsessions with 1980s WWF superstar The Iron Shiek

And then there's the happy rural girl-next-door belle with the delightful smile who smells like Prell shampoo and Taco Bell.

She knows Trashbag sucks. But hey, he has a boat.

No More Quaker Scrote

2008-07-19T08:58:00.000-07:00

The boobs featured in Wednesday's Quaker Scrote pic write in:

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You have a picture up of me im wearing a pink dress and a jewish symble around my neck. It is illegal to use someone elses pictures without there consent and it better be removed immediately or i will take legal action asap.
----

If there's anything I'd hate to misuse, it's symbles without there consent.

So since we're going with the Moses Bling theme, here's a suitable replacement.

Misc. Friday Stuff

2008-07-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

Miscellaneous links as I clear out the pixel-attic on a slow, smoggy L.A. Friday:

HCwDB legend The Batbag is very excited about his movie opening today, The Dark Scrote.

The Oakland A's are using Jerz Guids to promote bobblehead sales, disturbing a number of readers up in Oakland to send in this link.

NFL coach Mike Ditka Discovers Tanning Beds.

The musical guys at Foglizard wrote a song dedicated to HCwDB. I am honored. Anyone who rhymes "tan in a can" with "Grieco's our man" deserves major props, and the whistle solo is genius. We need more whistle solos in rock. Basically there's The Bangles' Walk Like an Egyptian and Paul Simon's Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard. Need more.

Looks like Ken Pringle, the Mayor of Belmar NJ likes to make fun of guidos:

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In his weekly newsletter to summer renters, the mayor, borrowing a reference he thought was fairly commonly used in his town, and lifting an incident from "njguido.com," described a certain type that descends on Belmar:

'Guidos as kind of a rare bird and are "as welcome as, oh, Canada geese."'

Pringle switched to full damage control mode on Wednesday.

"In a very positive way, the 20-somethings who consider themselves to be 'guidos,' it's not an epithet," Pringle said. "In my own town, I will tell you that there are people who don't like it; but it's like a generational divide on this issue."

Alison Lupinacci and her friends say even though their parents hate it, they are on that generational side of Italians who think the term is OK and defines it the term as:

"They mean... pump their hair, spiked hair, chains... you know, big muscles," Lupinacci said.
----

Yes. Yes they do. And more from the Daily News:

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The newsletter also tossed a few darts at "Guidos" in town.

"They're always tanned to the color of coconut shells and easily identified by their plumage: satin shirts and short skirts on the females; Armani Exchange T-shirts and artfully distressed jeans on the males," he wrote. "The call of the Guido is bellowing, and frequently slurred, invariably starting with the sound, 'Yo.'"
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Ever get the feeling Mayor Pringle reads HCwDB?

Nice to see The D-Neck Tee Shirt enter the lexicon, although I'd personally call it "The Gator Neck."

Jules is so sexy, he don't even need no ladies.

And then there's the simultaneous slap/pie move which I can't tell if it's douchey or really damn funny.

Your humble narrator is coming off a very busy week promoting the book and other good things.

I sit and ruminate. I meditate and flatulate.

And all is good as the setting sun casts its rays through the smoggy underbrush of a city on fire.

Rudy's New Years

2008-07-18T10:38:00.000-07:00

Nothing says classy New Years like frosting up them tips, undoing your shirt six buttons, and busting the Rosary Bling. Nicely put together there, Rudy. Aud Lang Syne never sounded so greasy.

Sweet Pouty Turkish Delight, drop the hirsute ball of grease and come let me rub chickenfat on your lower back area while seducing you with rose petals, caviar and a small Belgian tap-dancer named Jurgen, whom we would mock by firelight.

After four hours of chickenfat rubbing, we would retire to the living room to watch David Cronenberg's Scanners in high-def, pausing on the head explosion for me to softly comfort your fears. You would then call a cab, and I'd have to watch the rest of the movie alone.

Dammit. Why don't they ever enjoy watching Scanners after a delightful evening mocking a small Belgian tap-dancer?

Yup. It's Friday. And your humble narrator has slipped on a pop-culture reference, tripped over two misplaced commas, and passed through the looking glass into pure incoherence.

Bugsy

2008-07-18T08:55:00.000-07:00

Ladies, he's not the coolest senior in your small Iowa farming community.

I know you're impressed because he runs stop signs and once told the guy at the 7-11 to "eat me raw." I know you think he's the bomb when he freestyles to Lil' Wayne.

But no, ladies. This won't get back at daddy.

He does, however, feature stylin' wood paneling from the Home Depot. On sale through Friday for $9.99 a yard.

Friday Haiku

2008-07-18T07:03:00.000-07:00

Boobie Blonde says, "Shhh...."
Goose Runner in the distance,
Blue Hat, like douche moon.

retarded muppet
is offering up the goose
to bikini hotts

-- johnny scrotten

everybody loves a clown
but not this time
back in the small car bozo

-- douchetoevsky

Snapple crawls up beach
Tries to cop a feel of hott.
Kill him, Snapple, kill.

-- mr. white

"Charlie's Angels" hotts
who knew Charlie and Bosley
were such giant 'bags?

-idahohottpotato

Fuzzy blue hat douche,
keep out of hottie sammich.
Reverse oreo!

-- blair

Buffalo Scroteja

2008-07-17T14:53:00.000-07:00

Dreadlocked Chinja...

J-Lo Milf is sweet, and has a lovely patch of pale cleavite, and maybe even a hint of Mr. Nipper, showing.

Yeah, I just said "Mr. Nipper." My ancestors weep with shame.

But we haven't had a Hippie/Rastabag on the site in awhile. Not even one who looks like Ram Sweeney in Heathers.

Caption This Pic

2008-07-17T11:39:00.000-07:00

Jennifer had the distinct feeling that the Douche-Radar Antenna she bought on sale at Radio Shack might be busted.

Reader Mail: Henry's 'Bag Tag

2008-07-17T10:09:00.000-07:00

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DB1,

Long-time reader, first-time writer. I was in San Diego for a buddy's bachelor party this past weekend and to celebrate the 4th, we decided to hangout at the beach front patio of our hotel, which as a common area had many hotts.

One such Hott was the cute brunette in the attached pic. Soon enough she remarked about some Eminem-wannabe douche scrote (who was trying to start his own New Douche Move 2008 by "Running with the Absolut"). I immediately realized her 'bag hunter potential and showed her your site on my Blackberry. She became an immediate fan.

By the time she was ready to tag her first, the high level game had vacated, but we were able to corner the low-level scrote pictured. While he is absent mandanas or hand gestures, I believe that the soul patch, arched eyebrow, and especially the chain & lock arm tattoo are proof positive of Grieco infection.

-Henry

PS - I promised her that her 'bag tag would make it on-line, so if the pic is clear enough please help this fellow douche-hunter in pursuit of the hott keep his word and keep guiding this 'bag-hunting padawan.
----

Nicely done, sir. Now put down the keyboard and follow up with that girl by massaging her ankles with tea tree oil and a dash of parsley, while humming the theme to Stripes. That move never fails.

Ice Man

2008-07-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

Must you make the Douche-Face, working man's Val Kilmer?

Ubiquitous Red Cup has taken over your shorts, and even though Jenny's going wild on Spring Break and I can't pin you as a super-douche, there's still something about you that makes me itch like a post-coital Lohan.

Shades

2008-07-17T07:13:00.000-07:00

I haven't seen horizontal slot glasses that annoying since my last colonoscopy.

I don't know what that means.

Don't mind me. I'm a marshmallow in the S'more of uncaffeinated confusion. I go now.

The Bagnana Daiquiri II

2008-07-16T16:22:00.000-07:00

Yup, January's HCwDB of the Week Finalist (and eventual loser to Deathtongue)The Bagnana Daiquiri, is still swirling out there, showing off the groin fungus.

Thankfully this time, Disembodied Hott Arm (DHA) has appeared to offer a collective statement of response.

Speaking of the cultural violence of market system hierarchy, wasn't there a 1960s book on the colonial subjugation of indigenous peoples, written by Frantz Fanon, called Black Underwear, White Belt?

Reader Mail: Aussie HCwDB -- Peter Andre and Jordan

2008-07-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

Pratt writes in to respond to last week's post on Aussie hottie/douchey couplings:

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DB1-

I humbly submit that you have missed the greatest Australian HCWDB in the world today (and possibly tomorrow too). Peter Andre and Jordan aka Kate Richie aka English "Nike Pump" bleeth.

I have not seen the likes of choad-head-condom with mega-bling combo since a school trip to the planetarium made me dizzy.

"That ain't a douche...THIS!...is a douche"
- Pratt
----

She's a little too celebu-trampy for true hott status, but you present a compelling case for Aussiebaggery, Pratt, and get extra props for the Croc Dundee reference.

To answer Cieran's email yesterday from Ireland, maybe all the Eurobags went down to Australia to scrote up the hotts, where they joined rugby leagues, bought annoying bling, and shaved their chests.

Still, that dude could bench press my face with one hand while eating a Choco-Taco with the other.

The Boobie Epiphany

2008-07-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

Lil' Head's Epiphany (a one-act):

Lil' Head: Boobies!!

Big Head: Lil' Head, we've talked about this repeatedly. Those large soft fleshmounds will only lead us into trouble.

Lil' Head: How do you figure?

Big Head: First we have to convince her to ditch the cactus head. Then spend two hours at the cabana while she Woos with her six annoying Woo-Hott friends from Michigan State. Then she'll borrow our credit card and disappear for four hours.

Lil' Head: And your point is? I reiterate: boobies.

Big Head: Look lil' head, it's important that you learn context. Place the boobies into a larger framework.

Lil' Head: By framework, you mean the butt cheeks and the holy hooha.

Big Head: The holy hooha is not what I'm talking about.

Lil' Head: Well you should be. I'll bet it's where angels fear to tread, afraid to sully its perfection.

Big Head: No, but that's very poetic, Lil' Head.

Lil' Head: Thank you. I'm feeling poetic today. And by poetic, I mean inspired by boobies!!

Big Head: Alls I want you to realize, Lil' H, is that boobies alone are not enough to convince us to spend six hours on a fruitless quest, only to be left at the bar when another zebra-striped douchescrote walks by.

Lil' Head: Hmm.

Big Head: Think of it this way, Lil' Head. Pursuing the Bleeth Hott means boobies that are always out of reach. And boobies out of reach are not boobies at all.

Lil' Head: So you're saying if we chase the Boobies we cannot grab, then we lose the potential to locate another set of Boobies that we CAN grab.

Big Head: Exactly!

Lil' Head: I will have to sleep on that. But first... Boobies!

Big Head: (sigh)

and... scene.

Quaker Scrote

2008-07-16T10:03:00.000-07:00

PIC DELETED

It's not the Tom Cruise in War of the Worlds jacket, nor even the pink shirt, although neither help.

It's the swirly hair shave. The alien test pattern landing strip on Quaker Scrote's temple. Look closely. Do you see it?

There is no aesthetic, not in any culture, that can allow this to pass without societal mock as response.

As to Blonde Chipmunk, I can't tell which is more enjoyable, the ginormholyjebus liferafts, or the highly improbable Moses Bling she's wearing between them.

I turn it over to the immortal Frank Zappa to sing us out of this one.

Name That 'Bag

2008-07-16T09:01:00.000-07:00

Mobybag? Chainsawbag? Redneckbag? ElvisCostellobag? Weird Twilight Zone Masktatt 'Bag?

I'm at a loss.

Help me out in the comments thread.

HCwDB of the Week: A. D. Artificial Douchetelligence

2008-07-16T07:06:00.000-07:00

It was a close vote this week, all three finalists getting their due. But the crimson robot from the future was just too orange to ignore. baggle n lox makes the case:

It's gotta be A.D.

Yes, he is an android, a douchebot sent back through time to plague the hott and the sane with his rubber-lipped orange face and soulless stare, but you must admire the craftsmanship.

Yes, every gesture is animatronically sterile, but note the perfection with which they are executed - the ab exposure, the cheek-sucking to emphasize the perfectly crafted "serious guy" douche-face.

Also note the meticulous realism of A.D.'s douchy garb, from the wide-strap Jersoid "wife"-beater to the perfectly-torn vintage jeans and the stylish white hoodie. Notice also the trigonometric calculations made by his creators perfectly nailed the Wanna-B-Boy pants droop, sharing with us all the splendor of his ever-so-vanilla plaid boxers. Note that the engineered Bleeth virus is targeted perfectly, transmogrifying each nearby Hott into a douchebaguette proportional to her proximity to A.D.

Some dedicated work went into creating A.D., and we must recognize its genius. All hail A.D.'s futuristic, alien creators. He is robo-scrote; he is androidouche. He is HCwDB of the week.

Damn fine job summing up the win, BnL. daverobfreeman agrees:

Kudos to DB1 for the agony of choice. A.D. FTW based upon the apparent douchal contamination of the two Bleeths. Short Skirt the Librarian seems to be ignoring the filth that is PPK. Vin's seeming enchantment of the Blonde Saline Balloonist is troubling, yet A.D.'d doucheccouterments, off center navel, and the total nausea of his orange-tinted face blows away Vin's standard equipment. A.D.FTW!

Nausea being a key word, DRF, well said. But the everpresent anonymous argues for the Ping Pong Beerness of Kong:

Gotta be Ping Pong Kong because of the oblivion factor. How could one be in the presence of such a comely librarian and not be intensely conversing over the romantic poets: "You like Keats? Yeah, me too, but Tennyson really makes my johnson rise. Wanna see?"

Heh. And choadrunnah brings the argument for Vin, the Personal Trainer (tm):

Vin. The winner for me because he's old enough to know better. Unlike Mini Hawk, Vin is far too old to be indulging his inner-douche like this. And by indulging, I mean Axe body spray in glove compartment.

Plus, there can be no question that the Dairy Queen is the hottest chick in the history of the World. She even looks like she might not be that bright. Awesome. I'd switch to the cyrillic alphabet if it meant that she'd have more b's and e's to adorn her majestic tetons.

Nothing beats cyrillic alphabet references before breakfast. But phi slamma douchey brings it home for A.D.:

It must be A.D. FTW. The fire is stoked the embers burning and the poker sits ready. I enjoyed looking at the hottest of hotts and colors other than orange but the magnitude of scrotal monstrosity that is A.D. takes it. He's got the beater, the jebus bling, the boxers, showing of the 7 minute abs's, ripped jeans and orange. It's been a good run eyes but you've got to go. Did I mention orange.

And batou concurs:

I seriously can't tell if he's real or made out of a mixture of wax and forehead grease. He looks like he was plucked from a future museum, where wax sculptures dressed up like douchebags to educate children about how primitive and distasteful 21st century mating rituals were (but in fact only causes them nightmares for weeks).

Anyway, this guy is beyond poo, he is in fact a metaphoric river of sewage. And for that, he deserves the weekly.

Orange takes the cake for A.D. proving the power of scrotal monstrosity can overcome second rate Bleeths.

Book A.D. a slot in the Monthly in a couple of weeks, where he'll go up against some formidable competition, including Lawnmower Man and Droopy, as well as whomever wins this week.

It's a well deserved win. And slutty barely legal "American Beauty" blonde is starting to grow on me.

Reader Mail: Mickey's Hot Chicks with Douchebags Review

2008-07-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

Mickey writes in:

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Hey I just got finished reading the Hot Chicks with Douchebags book. I'm going to share its wisdom with everyone I can. I was in tears from laughter for most of it. The bit about punching the dwarf and then asking for change (CroBagnon page) had my ribs actually hurting!

I've forgotten more philosophy, anthropology and mythology books, what have you, than most entire families will read in their lives, and even armed with this fascinating but ultimately useless knowledge,I have to say that yours is one of the most brilliant books I've ever read.

I too have suffered the privations of douchebags throughout my life. I come from a town absolutely rife with Jersey 'Bags and Bagboas. I attended high school at a time when the douchebag virus was just beginning to spread. The high school hall stank of hair gel and testosterone, Z. Cavariccis hung from every fashionable hip, and wigga CrossColors, for some unfathomable reason in the elitist, racist town I hail from, were popular as well.

Coming from New Jersey, I'm very familiar with 'bags of all types, and you hit the nail on the proverbial head with most of them. Great job keep up the good work!!!

Oh, one point of order, if I may be so bold. When describing the Jersey 'Bag, you fail to mention the iconic chariot of the JB, the IROC-Z!

Later!
--Mickey
----

I feel giddier than a schoolgirl in a nitrous factory when I get emails like this. And yes, I'll be pimping my book on this site until you buy it.

Yeah you.

I'm looking at you right now. I can see you through the screen.

Been reading my site for a year, but keep putting off actually ponying up the dough to buy a copy off Amazon? Listen to Mickey. Buy my book.

Caption This Pic

2008-07-15T12:17:00.000-07:00

"Maybe the open call for dancers for the Long Island touring production of Bob Fosse's All That Jazz wasn't the best idea," thought the casting director glumly.

The Pimpit

2008-07-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

Many people still struggle to understand the concept of the Douchebaguette -- the Female Douche aka The Bleeth.

The Bleethed Hott remains in possession of the sexy boobie suckle thigh, but has become so polluted from proximity to "Pimpit" types, that you just know she's a huge pain in the ass.

This does not mean one still wouldn't desire to lick her upper arm area like an unmedicated Michael J. Fox on Taurine. Only that redemption for the hott is no longer possible. And we must lament the dark destructive force of douchescrotery on her once fair and pure bosoms.

Or something like that. I need a coffee.

Where's Waldouche? Frat Tard Edition

2008-07-15T08:44:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in this lineup of Arizona State Pre-Med Major Future Nurses of America, I've carefully hidden a Fratdouche clown. And his bored best friend, Arnie.

Look closely.

Can you spot him?

For degree of difficulty, I've replaced Ubiquitous Red Cup with Rare-Ass Blue Cup.

Reader Mail: b4-4 and Ireland

2008-07-15T07:01:00.000-07:00

(warning: This b4-4 music video not safe for children, small woodland creatures, and humans with even rudimentary levels of self awareness)

cieran writes in all the way from Ireland:

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db1-

i'm from ireland love your site man but is it possible douchebags are mostly native to the americas? here in ireland i can honestly say i've never seen a real douchebag in the wild. we have no pool parties no fraternities and no red cups. colin farrel is a class a douche for sure but other than that i cant think of a single one. also that b4-4 video is amazing.

you should take the site down and just put a link to that vid because it has it all douche headlocks ab lobsters and just generally reeks of srotatalia.

please hit me back db1 your legendary status has reached as far as ireland and it would mean alot to hear back from you. cheers mate-

ciaran
----

Well observed, Ciaran, and on behalf of the douchal plague unleashed on the world by American mass media spectacle and name brand culture, I apologize. But since b4-4 is from Canada, they must share in the North American shame of scrotological fungus we have unleashed.

But Ciaran raises a good point -- Colin Farrell. Huge fungus of cultural decay.

You need to take at least a little responsibility for global scrotology, Ireland. You used to be the land of James Joyce, Oscar Wilde and The Pogues. Colin Farrell has rendered your glorious history of poetry, literature, music and art moot.

Do something. Mock him until he goes away.

'Bag / Not a 'Bag: Maverick

2008-07-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

I know what you're wondering. What makes Maverick a douche? He's not really doing much of anything. No hand gestures. No facial sneer. No stupid tri-tip facial shave.

Only a vaguely annoying fwip hair thing. And the aviator glasses from Top Gun suggesting he plays loud Kenny Loggins power chords while chest shaving each morning.

But enough to call Maverick 'Bag? I leave that up to you.

And while you're deciding, take a moment or three to chant Gregorian hymns in praise of Perfect Carla's body of girl-next-door sin. She is Holy Sweet Jebus Crisp on a Saltine dipped in sweet foamy love hott.

Camoflage Ken

2008-07-14T11:37:00.000-07:00

Camobag doesn't really have the more spectacular giveaways we associate with scrotological poopy poo.

But then you look into those eyes. And you realize the doucheyness that lurks beneath the surface. It's what makes Camo into the stealth douchescrote that he is.

But oh sweet Sarah.

How your eyes taunt me with that perfect sweet and sour delight. A wholesome grad student on the outside during the day. Willing to dress up like an Armenian weightlifter and tickle my underarms with a vibrating kumquat at night.

Like the great, unheralded classic teen sex comedy from the mid 1980s, Malibu Bikini Shop, I would make your army bikinis out of water dissolving stitches, then enroll you in the beach race just to watch hilarity ensue right before the closing credits.