After weeks of not leaving my hovel, I realized I owed it to you, my reader, to finally leave the safe confines of my basement stinkhole, put down the Night Train, and finally see some these vile mixtures of rank douchosity and ridiculously painful hotness first hand.

And so it was, like Kurtz before me, that your intrepid Douchebag1 found himself journeying up the river of doucheness and into the heart of Darkness where these mutated specimens of human douchitude come to comingle and congregate... a Karaoke bar in Burbank.



As I've long suspected, the hotties travel in large packs and refuse to seperate, as evidenced by this grainy photo I recovered from the jungle. They speak mainly through a primitive form of monosyllabic noise-grunts, using sounds like "Wooo!!" and "Yaaa!!" to communicate. They also have nice cans.

The douchebags circle slowly, displaying their manhood through the brave display of embarrassing hat-wear and monochromatic button-down shirts. Oblivious to their surroundings, they even track toiletpaper stuck to their shoes like this total steaming pile of putritude below did. Other signs include the shaving of the head and the display of as many incomprehensible arm tattoos as human possible. The hotties at first seem oblivious to the douchuousness swirling in their midst, but after the 'bags begins to rub their backs while talking to them, as well as buy them drinks, the Hotties slowly begin to warm up.



Eventually the 'bags move in for the kill. After these simian like reptiles get on stage and sing a variety of awful karaoke renditions, including "I Just Want to Fly" by Sugar Ray, "Hero" by Marc Anthony and anything by Sublime, they have gained the attention of the hotties. The hotties return the favor by group-singing "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls and "I Touch Myself" by Divinyls. Upon mutual "Wooo!!" screams, the destructive and unholy union is complete.

Like a Transformer or the Wonder Twins activating, the HC and D come together in a nauseating communion of douchosity that rings through the ether causing the gods to cry out in pain. Cute chick and skeezebucket, once again merging in violation of all that is good and just in the world. I consider rending my garments. I consider sacrificing a 'bag to Ganesh to stop the HCwD pain once and for all. But I am here as observer only. Soldier on I must. I have a mission to complete.

Note that the wheelchair below is purely decorative. The 'bags enjoyed climbing into and out of it and pulling hotties into their lap for a forced 'bag cuddle.

I snap these photos for you, my loyal adventurer, to honor the pain of the HCwD. As we live on to fight another day we must always been on guard for the skeeziness of the slime that congregates in the presence of attractive young hotties.

As I wandered back towards my base camp, I could think of only one thing to summarize my journey. The horror... The horror...

In high school I knew this sophomore douchebag on the basketball team who's face was so humongous it used to scare children and dogs. That grinning douchebag used to waddle around school with his 400 toothed grin like he was about to chew somebody's head off. I saw this 'bag on the left and it was like a flashback to those heinous school days when douchebags like this scored all the hot chicks. We all knew the type. That one tall, lanky white-boy douchebag, usually a reserve center on the J.V. hoops team averaging 2.3 ppg but dating the hotest chick in school. Here he is all grown up, and just as 'bagliscious as ever. I'm waiting for Batman to fly in and tie this 'bag up before he can smear more hotties with his 'baggy charms.

I'm digging the sexy hippie chick. She's got that nice older-woman Kim Catrall thing working for her. Except she seems to have a growth coming out her left shoulder. I'm not sure what it is, but it appears to be a douchebag-based form of life. She should get that looked at. If it gets infected it could spread.

Okay fellow 'bags, here's one for the road as we all cruise into the weekend ready to drink tons of Night Train and eat lots of ho-hos while staring at our messy-ass apartment... or is that just me?

Check out Kid Rock's retarded younger brother gettin' it on with the local entertainment. Classic oversized sunglasses, hat at proper douchebag 10 degree tilt, neck-kerchif. And the classy white button down shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Rock on!!!

Look at those legs. I could munch on those fleshy thighs for a weekend and still have time to hit up the Arby's drive through. But the best thing about this bleached out honey is her look of complete and utter contempt at having to sit in this douchebag's lap for the photo. Hold your nose honey, it's almost over.

Lets ride this explosive HCwD pic into the weekend, and I'll see you 'bags on the other side. I'll try to update a bit this weekend but you know how things go when you're douchebag1. Lots of sitting around drooling on myself, maybe drinking some strawberry ripple in a dirty plastic cup, open up a box of Hostess Cupcakes and watch me some Animal Planet.

Good things in store for next week, many more HCwDs to expose in all their slimy glory. Thanks to all for writing in, I'm getting a bunch of emails now and am mostly posting submissions so keep sending 'em to: douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com. Douche on!!

All I know is when did New Kids on the Block get so lucky? This drunk little putz on the right is sporting classic 'bag shirt #12, the pink Izod, as he's about to fall over.

The chicka in the middle has that All American girl vibe. Not model hot but from where I'm standing I can think of two very good reasons to get to know her better. Not to mention she's happy to display those two wonders of nature -- always extra points in this douchebag's book.

And is that 'bag on the left sporting cheek rouge? His makeup is better than hers is. Nice job, Reddy McRedcheeks.

I was worried about the Stay Puft Marshmellow man after Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray crossed the streams in "Ghostbusters." I'm pleased to see that even though his movie career has tailed off, Stay Puft is still out there and finding love.

I've never gotten the appeal of NASCAR. If I wanted to spend my free time watching a bunch of cars going really fast in circles in the hopes that one might crash and send a tire into my face, I'd be, well, even more of a 'bag then I currently am.

But then I see a vision of checkered flag loveliness like this little green engine here, and my scuzzy little heart goes pitter patter. Of course that could be because I just downed two pints of President's Choice Cherry Cola (2 for a dollar) to wash down the leftover rotisserie chicken. Hey, a D.B's gotta eat.

This tool is everything I picture when I picture motor car fans. Shirt from Wallmart. Pants from Target. Sunglasses on his cap. 'Bagosity all his own. Then again, maybe I will start watching this sport. If a tire flies into this guy's face, I could see that being pretty entertaining.

They may not be real, but they're certainly spectacular. This Mira Sorvino looking hottie is absolute perfection. The shirtless 'bag to her right? Not so much.

At first I thought this steaming lump of animated clay had a gaping hole in his head, but it appears to be some form of 'bag hair dye.

And of course there's "Douchebag Hand Gesture #42." Of course.

I'm in a lousy-ass mood today. What with the Shocker and a few other douchebags emailing me and asking to have their photos taken down, it's gonna get harder to keep these photos on the site. Of course, I'm also in a lousy mood because I'm out of ho-hos and am too lazy to walk to the corner store. Stupid lack of ho-hos.

Speaking of ho-hos, this pic cheered me up a bit. Featuring "Standard Douchebag Hand Gesture #16" as well as the requisite 10 degree cap tilt, we've got all the makings of a triumverate of douchosity/hotness percolation. Inverted 'bag sandwich, dim sum style.

Sadly, one of the heroes here at HCwD has emailed and requested his pics get taken down. Yes, "The Shocker" is unhappy with our douchebageous comments. So, my douchey apologies for having to take the photos down, but that's one of the rules of the site. Alas.

Feel free to post here to try to convince him to change his mind, or email me at douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com.

Dammit I knew it was gonna be hard keeping these photos up. Oh well. The search continues. There are plenty of HCwDs in the world, and we'll just keep digging to find more examples of the stench of steaming putritude that is the gorgeous female being groped and fondled by a total and complete 'bag.

At some point during the evening, at least one pair of ray-bans and two Izods were lost. I'd like to know at what part of the club they ended up. Or perhaps I don't.

This is classic textbook 'bag sandwich. In fact we may need to save this photo for future reference. That way, when a reader says, "Hey, what's a 'bag sandwich?" I can simply slap down a photo of these two douchousness douchebaggeries and say, "Here ya go, bud! Now get off of my lawn."

I always knew I should've been a total dork fratboy. Get me a Polo shirt, a couple of sweet, sweet wristbands, some baggie jeans and an open mouth expression ready for any time a camera is nearby. Then I could'a gotten two honeys like these two.

Actually I'm not sure how far up these guys rank on the D.B. scale. They just sort of look psyched to be in the presence of these two hotties. And can you blame them? Enjoy it, fratboys. The real world's only a few years away.

I always knew that dude from "The Breakfast Club" had a way with the ladies.

Ugh, I drank about three bottles of Thunderbird last night and ended up lost somewhere in downtown. No hot chicks, just douchebaggey ol' Douchebag1 all by his lonesome. Which reminds me, I've almost moved the site over to our new location www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com. Just gotta see if the publishing works right, or something like that.

Remember fellow hotties and 'bags, NO REAL NAMES here. If you know either the cutie or the scuzzbucket in the photo, well then good for you. If you're in the photo and unhappy with the gentle and friendly teasing, email me and I will take down the photo immediately.

Okay, a hottie reader named "Heather" sent in a bunch of photos of her hottie friends getting hit on by total and complete douchebags, so that's gonna be today's fun theme. I'm off to pop a squat.

(PIC DELETED)
I mean really, is there anything I'm going to say that's going to enhance the douche/hot explosion currently happening in your eyeballs?

I think not.

Hmm, I wonder if HCwDs is being read by The Onion?...

A reader sent this in and said it was taken from the "American Idol" auditions. I wouldn't know, since I don't watch any show in which something as douchuous as a "Bo Bice" is allowed to crawl around without a cattle prod shoved up his nether regions. But whether this douche is simply a wannabe Clay Aiken or just hasn't reached the point when hair grows on his peepee, alls I know are these two ladies are luscious treats of turkish delight. And this little boy doesn't deserve to be in their presence.

I'd comment on this grinning sack of douche but I'm afraid I just saw the future ex-Mrs. Douchebag1 there on the left. Holy crap that's a hot little candy cane. The other one isn't so bad either.

Looks like we've found one of the much rarer "inverted douche sandwich" pics. Usually the douchitude is on the outside with a poor hottie stuck in the middle. In this case, the douchey goodness is all on the inside. With enough 'bagedness to kill a small horse.

I kind of feel sorry for this lanky-ass dork. The chances of this woman saying anything more than"Okay I took the photo, now please stop hiding out behind that telephone pole" are rather slim. But he's just so happy to be in the photo, I kinda feel sorry for the guy.

And then I see our good friend Mr. Shocker, and utter douchosity is confirmed. Toss in what I think is an "I (heart) beer" cap, three layers of clothes including a puke-blue shirt, and this guy ain't just a douchebag, he's in need of a roudhouse kick from Chuck Norris to end his misery.

This sexy little wench reminds me of a an ex-girlfriend I used to have. Oh wait, that wasn't me. It was William H. Macy in "The Cooler." Dammit, I gotta stop getting my life confused with the things I see on T.V.

So what have we learned this week, fellow 'bags? Well, we now know that wearing reading glasses on a red Izod shirt is wonderfully douchebagous. Bandanas should we worn as much as humanly possible. And the collar should always be up.

Important lessons as we venture deeper into the jungles where the 'bags and beauties come to congregate and stain each other with their utter dual wrongness.

Thanks again to all you douchebags who keep sending in awesome pics. I need it, as my utter lack of hot chicks has driven me to start spying on my neighbors with binoculars in the hopes of spotting a real live hottie. So far all I found was a 40 year old tub of lard with back-hair watching VH1's "Top 100 Hottest Douchebags" or something. Oh well.

I've set up a new email account: douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com.
You can still use the old email address but if I can stay sober long enough to figure out the rest of this HTML, the new site will be up soon.

Hang in there kiddies! Lots more HCwD goodness coming shortly...
- Douchebag1

Nothing quite says "badass" like wearing your reading glasses on your Izod red alligator shirt while wearing your slick-ass "on the prowl" sunglasses for the covert "check out the hot chicks without them knowing" approach. Booya!! Add in the requisite backwards baseball cap (tilted at the proper 10 degree "hip hop gangsta" angle) and a partial-thumbs-up Fonzie "Ayyyyy!!!" gesture, and the night is yours, stud.

This 'bag knows what the ladies need. A little Axe body spray. Some dentine ice for the proper fresh breath. And say hellloooo to the ladddieezzz...

You ever drink too much and go to burp, but like a little tiny shard of puke comes up into your mouth and you spit it out? That's this 'bag. Of course he could kick the holy sweet crap out of me in about two seconds and still have time to down a KFC family pack. Which may explain the chick's slightly nervous, and slightly queasy expression. I don't know if this amazonian truly qualifies as a "hot chick," but she's sexy enough and man oh man those are some large,... uhm, stripes on her dress.

As to this dude, you gotta give it up to anyone who can wear a bandana that ginormous on his forehead and still have room for some eyebrow.

I'm especially digging the douchebag in the background chewing on a hand. Because nothing's quite as tasty as chewed hand.

Once again kids it's time to play another edition of "Spot the Douchebag." Somewhere in this photo I've cleverly hidden a total and complete piece of rank sewage. Look closely!! Can you find him?...

Fellow douchebags -- I'm gonna see about switching us over to the official URL "www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com" in the next few days so hopefully it won't break the gravy train of sweet, sweet HCwDs I've got lined up, but the site may get a bit jumpy as I'm still figuring out this HTML thing. You can still click here and it should redirect you to the site. But when you're bloated on too many nutter butters and PBRs, it ain't easy figuring out doucheliscious URL links and stuff, let me tell you. So hang in there as we go through a few douchebaggey growing pains. Good stuff is on the way...

- Douchebag1

Who will win this battle of evil douchuousness?... Will it be Doucheula, the man with only three and a half fingers? Or will Douchenstein recover from the power of Doucheula's evil douche grip? Can Douchenstein's douchetacular bandana save the day?... Will these two not so buxom beauties escape the clutches of douchetidue terror?...

The douchebaggedness of this total and complete pile of putritude may crash the site again, but in the interest of bettering the world by exposing HCwDs no matter how painful the eruption, I'm taking that risk. May your computer screens survive the douching douchuousness of this douchebag.

As to this vision of loveliness, I've had dreams with hotties this stunning in them but they usually involve me waking up with a happy tent. I especially appreciate the camera guy's framing of this juicy little peach. But just as my gaze longingly drifts to the nether-regions, they realize what she's holding onto. And my head explodes.

Blogger's giving me all sorts of headaches this morning, I can't tell if my last post published or not and it appears I've lost this morning's comments as well (some of which were hilarious). Stupid blogger. If you can see this, you're doing better than I am. I feel like a douchebag stranded on an island with no hot chicks and only that guido from two entries down. I'd hit up the Night Train but I'm out of that too. Anyway, as soon as Blogger resolves its assitude, more HCwDs will be on the way.

- Douchebag1

I'd like to dedicate this week's fantastic selection of HCwDs to the Night Train Express. Pick up your bottle of this screwtop sugar wine,17% alcohol, at your local neighborhood wino pitstop. Make sure to wrap it in a paper bag, sit on the sidewalk in a puddle of urine, and sip it while drooling on yourself. It goes great with hostess cupcakes, ho-hos or Little Debbie snack packs.

Night Train -- What the Douchebags Drink (tm).

I've got a great week of Douchebagerie Hotitude ahead, including one more fantastic photo of "The Shocker" that his friend (?) sent in. Which reminds me, thanks again to all the 'bags combing the web for the perfect hot/scuzz pics. I'm posting about 70% submissions at this point, which is great, because I'm a lazy unemployed mofo and other than serious XBox time, I don't like to do too much. Keep sending 'em in to: douchebag1.

I'm gonna be hitting up Chili's for lunch with a couple of fellow 'bags (mmm, shrimp scampi), but here's a couple of choice HCwDs before I go, and I'll post a few more later this afternoon.

I'm hung over from too much Night Train, wasn't planning on posting anything today, but this photo is just too much.

Words... they escape me. Like guidos through the hourglass, so are the douches of our lives...

I lived through the 1980s. I knew the 1980s. The 1980s were a good friend of mine. Douchebag, you are no 1980s.

Collar up like a casting call for season 2 of Beverly Hills 90210? Not one, but two goofy-ass hand gestures in one douchey photo? That's gotta score major points on the Douchometer. I can't tell what this fourth Beastie Boy is wearing around his neck, but I'll go out on a limb and say it's ass. He's wearing ass around his neck.

If this were a horror movie like Saw or Texas Chainsaw Massacre, this dude would be strung up on a meat-hook in the next twenty minutes. But it's not. Instead he gets to cuddle up to these two luscious hotties and smirk away into the camera like the douchebag that he is. That's it. I'm hitting up the Night Train.

Okay, when did the owner of Bob's Fixit-And-Oil-Change get let out long enough to end up in the presence of hot chicks? And what type of gum disease turns an entire face into a level five outbreak of shmucky douchousness?

These cute little blonde chicklets are a bit too peroxide bleached out for my tastes, they look like wives #8 and #9 of that old whatsisface's harem on that reality show. Not to mention they're about to run to the bathroom and scrub down their shoulders to rid the stench of douchosity as soon as the photo is over.

Three rules of trying to date hot chicks. Number one, don't wear a ratty red shirt. Number two, don't wear ugly-ass faded Levis from the 1980s. Number three, don't be Bob.

Black fingernails? Check. Ridiculous hair? Check. Some deep, poetic word I can't read with each letter written on a finger? Check.

Two hot chicks swarming this rank, sewage infested deposit of douchitude? Naturally.

And can somebody tell me what the red stains are on this Morissey wannabe's douchey-ass shirt?

I especially enjoy hottie #2 trying to look "rebellious." Give up it, blondie. Don't try anything. Just stand there and look cute.

"You there!... Look at my hairr... it's luscious... so vibrant and wind swept, like a fresh breeze on a warm April day... I am a sexy, sexy man, I know that... it is a blessing and a curse...I know how to lahve women... I treat them right... they lahve my chin... My chin is so sexy I make them stroke it... touch it... touch my chin until they are overcome with sweat and forced to make sweet, sweet lahve to me over and over again until we both collapse, exhausted and sweaty, knowing that our fire has raged, raged together..."

PIC DELETED

This heap of douchosity needs to be dragged out back and tossed around by a few Hells Angels high on paint thinner. Nice dimples. Nice mug. Nice hair. His arm's on the back of this hottie's neck like he's doing a ventriloquism show. What, is she supposed to be Charlie McCarthy?

And what's with the brown mark on this doe eyed little cutie's forehead? Does douchebag here put out his cigars on her face? Did she get pellet gunned during a junior high drive-by shooting? Regardless, this sweet little minx is exactly my type. Innocent, pure and with a mark of deformity that's just enough to give her an inferiority complex I could take sweet, sweet advantage of. Otherwise, how to explain her bright eyed happy expression in the presence of such a heaping sampling of douchuousness like this dude?

Don't forget fellow bags of Douchosity, if you don't see your favorite hot chick with a douchebag anymore on this page, you can always click on the "Archives" link to go back and relive some of our past "hits" of gawdawful douchitude+hotness. Or you can search the site with the nifty Google thingy I stuck at the top. Don't make no difference to me, I'm out of my last screw-top bottle of Night Train, I have no more ho-hos and just a moldy Chock-o-dile that's been sitting on the counter since '94. Man, my life is sad.

Okay I got one more "Shocker" photo but I'm gonna have to save that one for a special occasion. In the meantime lets go with this stripey shirt wearing douchebag, who after somehow convincing three luscious little balls of hotness to pose for photo, is more worried about who's watching him take the photo than about looking into the lens. And of course "Douchebag Hand Gesture #52," the sideways peace sign, meaning, of course, that's he's a member of the Crips. Nice chin, you lank-ass Smashing Pumpkin wannabe douchebag.

As to the girl in the green? Yes, please.

(PIC DELETED)

Who knows what mysteries lie in the hearts of hot chicks... The Shocker knows...

(PIC DELETED)

One of the more popular Douchebags to be featured on this site recently, The Shocker makes an encore appearance, attempting to either fondle or mount a hottie who seems oblivious to his douchebaggey presence. Note the upturned collar and lime green shirt, both screaming out for ultimate douchebaggery. Given his popularity, I'm thinkng this doofus should be an action figure. With authentic "Shocker" grip and glazed turd expression. I know I'd buy it.

For the women, this'll be a snap. For the guys, not so easy. For to find the lurking douchebag in this photo, you'd need to tear your eyes away from the triple decker of hotness that is these three luscious chickens.

Look at them holding those Coronas. Softly, delicately, they're fondling them like they're holding... Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Mmm... Pabst Blue Ribbon. America's finest beer. I think I'll go crack open a can, eat some leftover Dominos, and beat my cat for awhile. And by "beat my cat", that's not a euphemism for masturbation. I just like to beat my cat.

Poor Alice. She took those mushrooms and fell through the douchebag looking glass and now she finds herself assaulted by the Mad Douchebag Hatter and the Cheshire Dweeb. Notice that the Douchebag on the right is making what we now know to be "Standard Douchebag Handgesture #26", while the dweeb with the facial fungus is practicing the rare art of "Headbutt the Hottie." Hottie naturally looks like she just wants to finish her drink and get away from these two skeezebuckets as soon as humanly possible.

And what's up with the background? It's like hot chick heaven back there. Although the chick on the right needs to eat a few sammiches. Unless that's Nicole Ritchie. In which case she needs to be tied up and tossed overboard somewhere in the Caspian Sea.

All I gotta say is M. Night Shayamalan sure is looking haggard these days. What with the pimped out "please kick my ass" suit, the fungal Sideburns o' Douche, the hair with more grease than a Six Flags rollercoaster, and... (and I'm sure you've all spotted it by now).. a giant, pus-filled white pimple, possibly herpes related, convalescing on this douchebag's lower lip. Now whether or not it's Herpes: The Love Bug (see Lohan, Lindsey) or a lip earring, I can't tell. But I do know that either way, it's all douche.

I can't make fun of this wannabe douchebag too much because the look on his face says 'thank you God!' Either that or, 'I've got mental masturbation material for weeks!' Anyways, give it up to this doofus. It's the closest he's gonna get to two hotties willing to touch him without waving a twenty at Candi and Bambi after "Welcome to the Jungle" finishes and they come down off the pole.

So here's to you, white-Urkel! I'm going to crack open a nice cold Pabst Blue Ribbon and salute you finding yourself in the presence of Hot Chicks long enough to generate a HCwD worthy photo.

Special thanks to all you douchebags who've been writing in and sending pics. I read all the emails I've been getting. If I don't write you back it's only because I'm hung over from drinking too much at Don's Wine Shack (where the strawberry ripple was 2 for a dollar last night).

As our search for HCwDs continues on our five year mission to seek out new douchuousness and to boldly go where no 'bags have gone before, I'm gonna need your help.

If you have a link or a JPG of a completely sexy and cute chicka posing with a steaming pile of XY refuse, send it along to douchebag1 and if its hot female lusciousness and total male scuzzbucket factors are both Simulacrum Douchous, it may just get featured on the site.

Okay I'm off for a late breakfast. Peanut butter on saltines. I hear it goes well with my over hangover cure: more strawberry ripple and ho-hos. Stupid Don's Wine Shack. Out of Night Train just when I needed it most.

When I was a kid my mom used to have to fumigate little rodent creatures like this out of our garden. They kept eating the plants. Sometimes we'd set humane traps and then release them in the wild. Although for his rodent douchebag, fumigation seems more appropriate.

So what do you think this moment calls for? Polo Mallet to his head or setting his red silk douchebag shirt on fire? This D.B. even has the requisite caterpillar crawling on his chin. Hmm... I'm thinking tennis racket. One of those really big tennis rackets, brand new. With that nice new tennis racket smell. A crisp backhand to the face before he can finish chewing, and all would be right in the world again.

And what is it with the hot chick leaning in to kiss where this douchebag stores his undigested food for the winter? A "kiss" isn't the first thing that should be entering your mind, hottie. It's a swift whack with a tennis racket.

Every so often, we see the inner primal id of the hot chick emerge in the presence of a douchebag. The Hot Chick's secret inner voice cries out and begs the karmic universe, "Please! No more douchebaggery in my life!" And the Hot Chick's soul cries out, because she knows that no matter where she goes or what she does, douchebags will swarm.

But give it up to this little hottie. She let her inner voice speak quite nicely. While this steaming pile of decrepit douchitdue decided to go with "Douchebag Hand Gesture #42" to clinch his douchebaggedness.

I feel your pain, hottie.

There are times in my life when I feel like a pathetic douchebag. Usually it's when I'm sitting on my carpet staring at the unholy mess of cat puke stain, empty cans of PBR, a two week old crust of Dominos pizza and my worn out VHS copy of "Wild Things" sitting on my broken VCR.

But as douchebaggey as I get in life, I will never, ever, reach the state of evicerating douchitdue that this giant steaming turdpile to the left has risen to. I will grow no fungus on my chin. Nor will I ever, under any circumstances, wear glasses as douchebaggy as this crap basket. The skull and crossbones shirt clinches it. If Elton John were to pop a squat and crap out a douchebag, this guy would be it.

Hello doucheness my old friend... I've come to talk with you again...

It's gotta be tough being Bob Dylan's illegitimate douchebag grandson. No one believes you when you tell them who your grandfather is. Your bank credit score is zero. Your idea of a kick-ass vacation is a bus trip to Des Moines. You can't get a loan to buy that used 1991 Honda Accord you so desperately want. You haven't worked since Target laid you off in 2005. But hey, you're still douchebag enough to score a hottie who looks like that half-asian chick on "Smallville." So you got that going for ya.

And dude, lose the Budweiser hat. Everyone knows Pabst Blue Ribbon is where it's at.

Tell me this douchebag's head isn't shaped exactly like Spongebob? His face is pre-shrunk like some sort of genetic experiment in face shrinking gone wrong. And what is it with douchebag guys and white shirts and jeans? There's gotta be some sort of scientific genetic douchebag correlation there.

This chicka is oh so sexy though. I haven't seen legs like that since the all you can eat crab buffet at Sizzler. The pink slip is flimsy in all the right ways. It makes me feel funny in my boxers. Maybe I should put on some pants.

I can't tell if this guy is a true douchebag or not. In fact I can't even tell where I am right now. All I can see are two luscious mellons that you don't find on the menu at Red Lobster. Mmm... sweet... sweet... cans...

What I can tell is this hottie can't wait to get away from the douchebag who's attacking her to get this photo taken. Then again, at least he got her to take the pic with him. The last time I tried to get a hot chick to take a picture with me, she called security on my ass. Then again, it could've been because I was in her hotel room. At 2am. Under the bed. What, like I'm the first guy to break into a hotel room to take a picture with a hot chick? What's the big deal? It wasn't like I didn't try the romance thing, I offered her a free plastic cup of Night Train. Stupid hot chicks.

(PIC DELETED)
Nothing quite says "classy guy" like holding up The Shocker while grabbing two of your likely underage sister's friends. Then again, any douchebag who can simultaneously spike out his hair, cut his facial hair into ribbons of douchitude, make the shocker AND wear his collar up all in one photo deserves some sort of prize. The Blue Ribbon of Douche.

Here ya go, bud. You earned it.

How badly do I want to swing a polo mallet into that guy on the left's face? It's not just the "I'm tough, yo" expression. The finger point is where the douchometer explodes. The dork on the right? I'm not so sure women's his thing, so he doesn't bother me so much. Although you gotta wonder about a dude who shaves his armpits.

The girl is magically delicious. Like frosted Lucky Charms. Caught between these two douchebags, she's part of a complete, nutritious douche-fest. You can tell she's reviewing every step she took that led her to be caught in this whirlwind vortex of douchosity, and is contemplating whether or not to kill herself. Do it, honey. End the pain.

Fellow Douchians, lend me your bags. I realized there's three things certain in this world. Death, taxes, and hot chicks posing with douchebags. So help me out, people. Find me the best HCwDs, send me a link to the image or attachment, and fight on we will. As we emark on this journey together, it may get ugly. We may run into shiny male foreheads, cheesy button down shirts, spikey hair and jutting chins. We may be able to smell the old spice through our computer screens. We will see Backstreet Boys and Wiggers, breakdancers and much of New Jersey. But soldier on we must. After all, it is only by confronting the douchitude that we can overcome its satanic pull.

Send me your best HCwD pictures to douchebag1@hotchickswithdouchebags.com, and you just might get featured like some of the other douchebags and the chicks who love them. Make sure they contain BOTH a hot chick AND a douchebag. One or the other, and it's just a photograph. It's only together, in one pic, ideally fondling each other, that we can share the societal horror that is the vast cultural wasteland of douchitude we live in today.

With that, I'm going back to bed. My cat drank the rest of my Colt 45 last night and now he's peed all over the rug again. Stupid douchebag cat.

PIC DELETED

Even hobbits need love.

I can't tell which features more douchosity, the spiky gelled hair or the coral snake that's coiled around this douchebag's neck. Then I realized, it's neither. It's the chin. That greasy Jay Leno chin o' Douche. Also check out the right hand, trying desperately to cop a feel before the picture gets taken. Good luck with that, douchebag. It's the closest you'll get to a fun-bag without going to chuck-e-cheese.

The chick does it for me even though the nose is a bit weird. I've always been a sucker for long dark hair. Heck, I've always been a sucker for two arms and two legs. Or even no back hair. Because a douche has gotta have standards.

Of especial joy is the wonderful cleavage this cutie is sporting. Too bad it's wasted on Nick Carter here. God damn it, why do douches like this get cute girls?!? Will I ever learn the answer to this plaguing question?

Chances of this woman sleeping with this man after the photo was taken? About the same as this man losing douche status anytime before his pot-belly kicks in and he starting whining about the good old days at State U when he used to roofie the cheerleaders. He's like the ultimate possessed fratboy, star of the "Blair Douche Project." The chick's sexy in that "37 Dicks" Clerks sorta way. A little extra meat on the bone, but that never stopped me from gnawing until I was full. Wait are we talking about food or sex? I get confused sometimes.

True douchitdue isn't just the lame-ass clothes, the white wrist-band, the backwards baseball cap or the fondling of a Miller Lite. True douchitude is a state of mind. A state of Om. Like a great swami from the nether reaches of Puna, India, this master has achieved the impossible -- Om Douche.

There's no denying the sexual magnetism of this douchebag. His shiny teeth. That sleek parted hair. The snazzy black sweater vest over a bright red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just like it's 1992. I mean, how can any of us really expect to compete with this power-stud? It ain't gonna happen.

Actually I'm not sure this guy really is a douchebag. At least not in its purest essence. He's just too darn nice. He's more like a doofus. I'll bet he says "Really glad to meet ya!" a lot.

Of the four chicks, I think I'm partial to the one of the left. She's got sort of a young Jane Curtin thing working. Jane, you ignorant slut! Then again, the other three aren't bad either. I'd take any of 'em. Then again, I'd take my hand if it didn't keep turning me down.

Good for him. After all, being a serial killer is tough work, sometimes ya gotta unwind by smashing your head into the skull of a hot chick.

I can understand. I used to smash my skull into things. Doctor said I was "slow" but I showed him. I showed them all. Just look around at everything I got. My refrigerator even works. Sometimes. Just not right now.

Mmmm... Sexy black choke collar. Did I mention I love choke collars? And nose rings. And shiny white teeth that cry out, "lick me... lick me..."

The dude kinda looks like Private Pyle in "Full Metal Jacket." Douche, yes douche!!

Yo yo yo. Peace out! Word. Know what I'm sayin'? I'm sayin' you two is some serious douchbags, that's what I'm talkin' about.

This poor hottie looks like she'd rather have a root canal than continue to be swarmed by the utter douchocity of these two doofuses. Or is the plural of doofus, "doofi"? I keep forgetting.

Dude. Baseball cap turned 10 degrees to the right? Awesome. Leaning into a photo so you can pretend you're near a hot chick? Priceless.

Run, hottie. Run.

This site has taken off like crazy since I started it a few weeks ago. Normally I would just burp and drink another PBR, but even I had to pay actual attention to how quickly people have discovered the joys of douchitude and hotness comingling in all their unholy glory. A decent amount of the douches I've featured have asked me to remove their pics, and I have done so with apology. This site is just supposed to be a goof on all those pictures floating around the web. It's definitely not my goal to upset anyone, so if you do see a photo you're in and you don't find it funny, just email me and I will remove it as soon as possible.

As I've said before, I'm a bigger douche than any of the guys I've ragged on here. So if you do find yourself in a photo, try to have fun with it. There's much more serious things in this world. Like me scraping enough money together to buy some new sheets. I'm tired of sleeping on my stained ass smelly mattress.

Anyways, I'm off this afternoon to get this rash on my ass looked at down at the free clinic but I'll be updating periodically over the weekend before I pick up the pace on Monday. The submissions I've been getting are great, wait'll you see what's in the pipeline o' douche!

All you douchebags have a great weekend. May you find that perfect hot chick and pretend she's with you just as the camera snaps...

-- Douchebag1

Ya know, after that plane crash, I didn't think we'd be seeing much more of John Denver. What with him dying at all. But it looks like he's found more than sunshine on his shoulder. Like this total hottie.

Okay, I'll stop with the John Denver puns. It's just that ever since John Denver sang with the Muppets, I've been a fan. But now that I've discovered he's been reincarnated as a douchebag, I have to rethink what I'm going to do with my worn out VHS copy of "Oh, God!" Guess I'll give it to Goodwill.

And yes, that girl is what we in the industry like to call a "hot chick." Oh yes, she is.

Oh, and John Denver? Gay-ass Blue cocktail? Douchliscious.

What does this site exist for if not this photo right here? Because if you're a douchebag and you're posing with hot chicks, rule #23 clearly states that your right arm must cup their breast.

I'm also picking up a strange correlation between hot chicks and the solid white t-shirt and jeans look. What's that about?

Anyways I'd go on further about these two douchebags and their hotties, but the 15 PBR cans I'd built into a pyramid fell over and scared my cat, who promptly took a dump on my kitchen floor. Not that you can tell, I haven't been in there in weeks. It's scary. Staring at douchebags and hotties all day on the web can take a lot out of a douchebag. I'm gonna go lie down.

What is it with douchebags and hand gestures in photos? Does every scuzzy dude who happens to find himself in the presence of hotties need to make various dorky-ass hand shapes? The answer, apparently, is yes, yes they do. This pasty-ass doughy Backstreet Boy wannabe launches an avalanche of douchositude while amazingly somehow convincing the gorgeous little hottie behind him to put her hand on his shoulder.

How? How does hotness decide to comingle in the presense of douche? This, grasshoppers, is the metaphysical question of our journey. Someday, perhaps if we're lucky, we will achieve enlightment, and then and only then will we be able to answer why it is that douchebags like this dude ever find themselves in the presence of three sexy-ass hotties.