god bless implants.
 

and skimpy bikinis.
 

Do the two on the right have matching diamond tatoos to signify the appendix and duodenum? I'm at a loss except to say, "I weep for our country's future."

When will Carousel take them?

But boobies are good. And Rehab is poo.
 

Can one still "look" punk circa the 77 era without looking totally scrote these days?

did the real punkers start wearing un-assuming sweaters to really rebel against the culture at this point?

Army of DOuche-ness
 

is this an aryan nation beach party?
 

I love hot boobies.

There's a chubby girl with a pooch in the background.

There's also a chubby guy taking a picture of the chubby girl.
 

Probably as good a time as any to once again organize the Tuesday Douche Confessions, where all us 'baghunters and huntresses fess up to at least one douche move we have been guilty of, in the interest of recognizing the duality of man, the yin and yang if you will, the without-darkness-there-can-be-no-light line of reasoning. Here goes:

In college, I was in a fraternity.

That feels better. Anyone else?
 

Man, I fucking hate Rehab at the Hard Rock. What a crowd of overly pretentious shit bags. I will enjoy the day when all of these morons get skin cancer and die a painful death from their tatt-vortexes and too much sun, being ultra-posers at the Vegas pool scene. Fuckin Losers...
 

God Bless you Sharon and your hot pink bikini.

I know daddy never hugged you much, and that's why you feel the strange desire to spend your time with fossilized poo, but I can be that daddy for you, I promise.

In a sexy, incestual way of course.
 

@ D Wayne

Nothing wrong with being in a frat. You make lifetime contacts and find out the outer limits of the pain your body can handle.



That said, I think this photo is the once in a lifetime chance for two miniscule-brained mid-westerners to fit in with a tattooed crowd of drinkers not involving a lake with a rope tree swing, four-by-four trucks and cops looking to break it all up.

They've run into some L.A. babes who are more than happy to drink on their room tab as their combined bankroll disappears.

They have absolutley no chance with these two.

Later these two bikini bubbleheads will fuck steroid enhanced freaks with big pecs.
 

@ Vin

I don't disagree with the fraternity system in general, however time and time again we see it misused completely. Just like many douche indicators, frats started out with the right idea but became bastardized through misuse. at the hands of the douchebags.

I went to an INCREDIBLY douchey college; overrun with meatbags, fratbags and preppy scrotes.

My frat wasn't douchey (nor were a couple others) it was a bunch of guys who hung out together before we joined, and continued to hang with our buds who didn't sign on.

However, too many times I have witnesses the frat system used to erase individuality by threatening exile to those who didn't conform. Many frats took on a gang mentality which resulted in no good for no body.
 

Marsupials I am not sure, but possibly rodents, and most CERTAINLY vermin...vermin Genus Doucheus. But WOWSA! what Hotts!
 

Tiara = stage 4 auto bleeth.
 

@ D Wayne

Well, one of my best buddies went to CSU Fullerton and was a TKE and even though they are a bunch of raging drinkers with unmeasurable alcohol tolerance levels , they are mostly successful business owners that buy each other's services and refer business to one another.

Also, I met them well after their school years and fit in quite nicely what with the alcohol, shenanigans and all. It could be a California thing , too, as in if you're bored or lose interest in something there's a kajillion other things to do here in the "Entertainment Capitol Of The World".
 

Alles für Deutschland, mein Führer! Kraft durch Freude!
 

@ Vin

I too confess to having been a member of a fraternity. Overall, it was a pretty sweet experience, although I will admit, I saw some pretty douchey activity on a fairly regular basis.

But if not taken too seriously, which happens all too often, its just a whole of drinking and merriment.

Plus it gave a very nice inside track to the Santa Barbara Bleeths, which was my favorite perk.

As long as you can accept the proper time to let it go, i.e. graduation, you will escape the wrath of a vengeful, douche hating god.

god's speed.
 

@ Vin

I knew some TKE's out here and agree with your opinion - good guys.
I went to Villanova, which is the East Coast's douche training ground. Jersey douches could "go away" to college but still be close enough to drop off their laundry to mom in the convertible VW that Dad bought them.

I completely agree with you - frats can serve a very important purpose. While I didn't remain active, I ran into one of my brothers after several years recently and yes, we traded info and now serve as business contacts for each other. But I was friends with the guy pre-frat, and would have been even if frat-free.

Of course, my train of thought has completely derailed at this point, so back to the boobies.

I will drink to TKE tonight, as well as my brothers and sisters in the Fraternity of HCwDB.
 

that place smells like dead bloating dolphins
 

His tats look like the Aliens from Space Invaders
 

Today Festus realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there's no such thing as death and we are the imagination of ourselves. Then he did a jello shot out of Jethro's navel.
 

@ Mike

Here's Tom with the weather.
 

@ Douche Wayne

It's only been a month and a half, maybe two, since the owner of a local cycle shop introduced me to this site. I'm sure my sentiments echo all of yours when I say that it's affected my life in a most joyful and salubrious manner.

That being said, I'd like to make a huge douche confession. It's been weighing me down for awhile now, and I want to get it off my chest.

About four years ago, I was crazy in love with a girl who dumped me for a TOTAL textbook Douche (it was one of those deals where she started introducing him into our conversations by saying "he's just a good friend, okay?". Gentlemen, ALWAYS take that as a red flag. You've been warned!)

Anyway, the toxic bitch's brew of heartbreak, jealousy, and testosterone caused a sort madness in me... a frenzy which sucked the rational agency right out of my brain.

I came to the conclusion that IF this girl dumped me for a douchebag, THEN that must be what women want (ugh... I feel so embarrassed telling you all this. But it's true!It's TRUE, DAMMIT!)
I went to Nordstrom's, bought a boatload of new threads and shoes. I went to what looked like a 'hip' hair salon and got myself a douchey spiked haircut... WITH BLONDE F***ING TIPS. Finally, and this is the big one, I turned myself ORANGE. And when I say orange, I mean Crimson Ted Level 5 orange.

This charade lasted about six, seven months. Most of it is just an orange colored blur in my memory nowadays. Did I score some tail? Certainly. But, I'm reluctant to equate my sexual conquests at the time with my douche-like appearance; I am far more successful with the opposite sex today, and believe me, I'm a pretty average guy.

So, there it is. Although I so richly deserve a shoe up my ass from each and every one of you, I ask you not to judge me too harshly. Living with this bright orange stain on my conscience is punishment enough.

*sniff*... bla... bluh snuh...
WAAAAAAA!!!! sniff sniff WAAAAAAAHAAAAHAAA!!!
 

I went to Arizona State.

That's my douche confession for today.
 

So when Travis Barker went down in that plane crash I thought he burned his nut sack... I didn't realize it spontaneously cloned his ass. Freaky.

- Douchey Smurf
 

Reader Mike's confession is music to Db1's ears.

It's the HCwDb's version of Valerie Bertinelli going from a doughy middle aged gal into a hot MILFy peice of ass.
 

@ Vin

I just want to thank you for the opportunity to clear the skelingtons out of my closet. WHOO, that feels good.

I wish I could stick around because the stories and support in this thread give me hope and healing. But two minutes ago I went to make a cup of coffee, and much to my horror I caught sight of a troop of FUCKING ANTS marching out of my floor vent! Unlucky for them, because this year (unlike last) I'm prepared... you little segmented bastards!

Ugh. The realities of being a homo-ner.
 

So that's where "pimp my bum" and his buddy "what the hell, I need a beer" turned up.

What turdery.

On the other hand, kudos to the plastic surgeon who created the hott on the near left. I'm currently lifting my desk several inches into the air without using my hands.
 

@ Reader Mike

Welcome. You are safe here. Like when Ogre started hanging out with the Nerds.

And that, dear readers, is the power of the Tuesday Confessional.
 

@ Army of Doucheness 9:24

NO. And it makes me sad. In response to all the Travis Barkerites clogging the malls of suburbia, I have grown in a full head of hair and I've taken to wearing sensible Argyle cardigans. Then I retreat to my office, put on a Wayne County & The Electric Chairs LP and sob uncontrollably.

@ Reader Mike
The truth shall set you free, my son. I'm proud of you and your honesty. Just be thankful you weren't too far gone to recover. Rest comfortably in the knowledge that you are your own man today. And that she is busy having her genital pustules lanced. That GV is a real bitch.

@ Vin 11:36
Valerie is assuring all of womankind that porkability can be maintained well into middle age. Hooray, Val!
 

The putz in the middle of this pic keeps appearing on the site. He looks like Viggo Mortenson's long lost little brother who tried to follow him into acting, got nowhere, so joined the Nazi Lowriders in protest and now sells meth at Vegas pool parties.
 

Oh God. Hott with a hat can take a hot cross dump on my chest
 

Oh, Reader Mike. Know that I am hugging you through the computer. You are a brave, brave soul to come here and confess all to us.
 

Nice boobies unless your in the military, yakuza, russian mob, or prison you shoud'nt be allowed to have tats like that and if you do it should be fair game for any of the listed above to beat your ass for walking around White water like a choad
 

I used not to believe in Hell but now they have photographic proof I have to rethink that ...
 

I did my confession on another thread and I never did find out - did I get a pass? Guyliner, nail polish, tattoos, tight tops and man-skirts are OK if you were already happily seeing someone and not Hott-bothering? And is there a point when it stops being douche and becomes a Goth thing? Or are all Goths auto-bags? And I don't do photos. So no douchey poses, hand gestures or anything like that. Bag or no bag? And I ought to highlight - I stopped years and years ago when I realised I was not 20 any more.

@ Reader Mike - brave confession. But it shows you are over it if you can talk about it and deconstruct the phase of your life in which it happened. And remember - you start thinking orange is a good colour for skin then we are here for you buddy! Say the word and you'll be kidnapped, shown pictures of Ted and electrocuted (think Mr White has a kit) until the aversion is deeply engrained. It is the least we can do to help.
 

@ Douche Wayne


My douche confession: I have tattoos. A lot. Don't worry, no tribals or stupid cliché tatts, but none the less, a full-sleeve, chestpiece, some on my legs, etc. Nothing that can be seen while wearing a longsleeve shirt and pants though, I wouldn't risk my career by sporting hands or neck tatts. Anyways, I'm trying to redeem myself for I have douchely sinned by loving tattoos too much; I avoid any other douche apparel, no Ed Hardy, no stupid haircut, no beard paterns, no hand signs, no hat tilt, no orangeness but I still fear the dreadful day I might end up on HCwDB, guilty of going to the beach with a hott while sporting tatts.

There. It's off my chest.
 

Douchebag Confessions: A 2-hour MTV Special Report
 

I see two tasty marshmallow Peeps wallowing between two teeth in need of root canals.

I recommend an 800 mg Ibuprofen every six hours for pain brought on by visual observation, and extraction if later necessary.

No marsupial pouches are visible unless tucking into the bikini bottoms counts...
 

@Reader Mike, 11:30 a.m. -

Hey man, sometimes you gotta touch a hot stove to appreciate how much it burns. And the lure of the hott sometimes makes us do unspeakable things, though you have rehabbed yourself - by yourself - and that is a remarkable feat!

And we all have skeletons in our closets - I uploaded a couple such pics to a Facebook group I'm in that could potentially haunt me for life.....but at least they helped a broheim prove a claim.

And I was "very heavy metal".....
 

An old cowboy once told me "Son, don't do anything that could help somebody pick you out of a line up."

Alas, some of us older folks who remember the originators of the style that these evolutionary dead ends thoughtlessly emulate might be tempted to give them a pass. Don't Do It! Remember back when you wore Doc Martens because you knew they wouldn't make you slip in the blood and beer while you danced? Remember when you threw that pitcher of beer at Shane McGowan because you thought "what the hell, his teeth are already fucked up?" These guys are not a reminder of those days. These guys are taint acne. These are they guys who helped make the word "disrespect" a verb. There is nothing nostalgic or ironic or otherwise substantial laying beneath the pop culture veneer.

But the boobies are pretty fine.
 

the pink pinkness. the round roundness. the soft softness. the hott hottness.

the scrotey scroteyness. the limpy biskitness.

I have no idea what has brought us hence.

--VS
 

A hott is not so hott once she tatts herself. Then she trashes herself for life. How to explain the taint of tatts to a nursing home staff someday? How to change your mind and retrieve a semblance of femininity? How to be a respectable authority to your children, if they are unfortunate enough to have a tainted tatted hott for a mother? Why Bleeth for life?
Someday there may be a Race for the Cure of Bleethery, not just for breast cancer's blight.
Oh, and did anyone notice the little tiara on the left Bleeth? Nope, everyone's looking at her jugs.
 

y'know i've always been kinda creeped out by the possibility that bikinis were invented by the vilest of douchebags to manipulate the nondouche population. or something.
 

I'm speechless. The hottest of the hott!!!!
 

Pink underoos hott is inked with what my buddy calls guntwings ... lol, as in "nothing says trailer like a pair of guntwings"
 

@ Douche-douche in the trunk

My tatt was my first Tuesday Confession couple of weeks ago: the one I have and the one(s) I'm going to get.

I believe tatts are highly personal and can have intense meaning to the wearer. Or they can serve as plumes on the human peacocks that are douchebags.

Case in point - a good friend of mine in college got a horrific "Tribal" arm bank - looked like a mix of henna and crayon. Bad design on its own, but his jumped the shark by inadvertently including the "Quicksilver" wave logo into the design. No, he did not surf.

True a douche move not to intensely research and ponder a design which you are going to permanently affix to your person.
 

I spent two semesters at Texas Tech. Redneckbags out there for shure.
 

Sigfried and Roy had their white tigers and 30 years of ass-fucking each other. Travis Barker and his brother Haircut do their act with equally dangerous, wild cougars with implants. Armed with nothing but bad ink and Botox needles, the Barker Brothers train these wild cougars to perform fellatio and make out with each other. This highlights the unique relationship Douchebags often share with horny cougars. Often, the American cougar is too drunk and dumb to care if she's being needled by a douchebag or a gentleman. Mostly, they just don't care. As long as you don't ask them their age, the love you. Here's to you Travis and Haircut Barker! One day, you'll be playing the Luxor! Specifically, the penny slots. Douche on and on and on, broheim!
 

white hat hot is white hot, my mind auto-erasing her minuscule bikini bottoms. Douche on right is the long-hidden bastard gay love child of Kieffer Sutherland and Martin Sheen.




Charlie Doesn't Surf!
 

Oh God. PLEASE don't let it be true!

The hott wearing the white cap is exchanging bodily fluids with the douche on the right! Look at her tats near her crotch and the douche's. Identical tats... [sigh].
 

What saddness befalls me in the thought of pink bikini delicousness allowing herself to be "injected" with pale, misunderstood, uber-krautbaggery. Identical tats is a forboding sign. On the other hand...fuck, she is HOTT. And by "on the other hand"...I mean, I just mind-sex with her several times...but she will never know it...SPLOOGE.
 

reader mike's sordid tale is all too familiar.

once you begin down the course of the douche, even as an exploratory or experimental voyage, the difficulty of righting your ship will become inversely proportional to how far you make it.
the end of the journey is an inescapable whirlpool which will splinter the decks and drown you. you will emerge on the other side, with a fish in your hand and fishslap staring you dead in the eyepatch. he extends one of the two red bull vodkas he is holding to you. the choice is yours.

the most troubling aspect of the douche-journey experiment is the validation you will receive for actions condemnable. society will open its arms and wrap you in silken nightclub curtains that drift in the dark air like so many sprays of axe, illuminated by the hi-beams of a used BMW. you are transformed.

i am become douche, destroyer of girls.
 

That guy on the right has been watching Taxi Driver too much: http://www.cinemapassion.com/affiches/taxi_driver.jpg
 

so cute, so dumb