A.K.A. Mr. Marissa Miller.

We would kill a relative to bang appreciate Marissa Miller as much as any other site out there (hence her being the thumbnail icon to Hump Day), but with all the SI swimsuit issue coverage she’s getting this week we figured writing about her would be overkill.

But then everything changed.

We knew she was married. We knew that much. We just never thought it was worth our time to research some dude so we could envy the shit out of him. Then this week some of our favorite sites (WWTDD, Tasty Booze, HCWDB) made us aware of the existence of Griffin Guess: the tool pictured to the right that you might have mistaken for Ryan Reynolds’s slow gay cousin.

We thought we had witnessed some crimes against humanity in our day, but Griffin Guess being the guy who gets to regularly bone Marissa Miller is the most egregious. If we find out he ever talked her into a threeway (the cool kind) we’ll probably have to off ourselves right then and there.

And what are we supposed to Guess anyway? Whether his hair is the lamest thing we’ve ever seen or the second lamest thing we’ve ever seen (this still coming in first place)? Whether there is a plausible explanation like this dude is a multi-billionaire? Whether Marissa is actually a robot he built? Whether he’s really into Vans or just thinks the t-shirt is super rad? Whether or not we can ever look at a picture like this the same again? (more…)

We don’t make it a practice of delivering haymakers to females, but on occasion, we make an exception. In this case, the exception is Tyra Banks. This chick is killing us. How Tyra went from SI Swimsuit Edition erection inducer to the uber annoying crusader for fat chicks she is now, we’ll never understand.

We don’t remember her saying a word prior to 2004. Yet nowadays, instead of having big boobs and keeping quiet, the new Tyra is the champion for boring women everywhere, terrorizing our television sets from all angles, burning bras (above) in order to teach a bunch of ugly ladies some sort of life lesson.

Seriously, what the fuck is this about? And why do we have to put up with it? As far as we’re concerned, only chicks with implants should be allowed to walk around braless.

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Yes, it’s come to this. We’ve been as tolerant as we’re capable of (which, admittedly, isn’t very tolerant). The Super Bowl’s here and it’s time for us to deliver a wakeup frying pan to the face of the NFL’s most frustrating player before the season is officially over.

From his disappointing play to the Saints’ disappointing season to his disappointing choice in female companionship, Reggie Bush–to put it lightly–has been a big fucking disappointment. We can’t stress that enough.

And the most discouraging part is that there’s no way it’s getting better. Reggie’s nauseating fascination with celebrity has a death grip on him and isn’t letting go anytime soon. Sure, he’s probably in Phoenix right now, pretending to like football, throwing back a few Subway Clubs with Jared as part of his endorsement contract, when really he’s just super stoked to have the media swarm him as he’s carting around his famous monster titted girlfriend.

It’s a shame, really. We were once enamored with Reggie. But it’s like the dude has been walking around with a checklist of things to accomplish to cement his path to bustdome and earn himself a premature punch in the face. The checklist probably looks something like this:

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Well, today’s the day you’ve all been waiting for. It’s been twenty years in the making, crescendoing to this epic climax ever since the credits began to roll at the end of “Rambo III” in the 1988.

Ladies and Gentleman, “Rambo” is back!

And not a moment too soon. The world needs a hero now more than ever.

In case you’re wondering what John Rambo’s Vietnam-scarred ass has been doing for the last twenty years, you came to the right place, we’ve spent the week researching.

Rambo has been tucked away in northern Thailand, near the Thai-Burma border, running a longboat, catching poisonous snakes, and what not. A secluded Vietnam vet can make some pretty nice coin in the poisonous snake trade. From what we’re hearing Rambo may be forced out of retirement to save a group of missionaries from some Asian warlord, but that part’s a little hazy.

The important thing here is that the demands of the masses have been met. Another installment of “Rambo” is here. It’s Christmas morning and Stallone is your own personal HGH-pumping Santa Claus, doling out fourth installments to movies that should have ended after the first.

Merry Fucking Belated Christmas!

Seriously. What. The. Fuck.

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“Define Irony.” The words of the great Steve Buscemi from a little classic known as “Con Air”.

Irony is a loud-mouthed, slack-jawed, side-armed quarterback and his bumbling coach playing Tom Brady and Bill Belichick for the AFC Championship and a spot in the Super Bowl. Supreme irony would be Philip Rivers (the anti-Brady) and Norv Turner (the anti-Belichick) actually unseating the Patriots juggernaut this weekend. That’s pretty much Keanu Reeves beating out Tom Hanks for Best Actor. That defines irony.

But if you want to talk about irony, here’s the most ironic part of all: Despite our love for all things ironic, we can’t even root for San Diego to pull off the most hysterical piece of irony ever.

Why? Because Philip Rivers is such an uncompromising dipshit. Last weekend the guy took loserdome to unforeseen levels and, in doing so, poisoned all rooting interests for the Chargers. The son of a bitch pissed all over something sacred to us. And that warrants a turkey slap to face.

If we can’t pull for Norv Turner to outwit Bill Belichick in the biggest game of both their careers why the fuck are we even breathing?

Philip River’s PITFF Bio

Vitals: 6′5″. 225 lbs. Teeth too small for head. Hung like that Llama at the zoo.

Famous For: Keeping Chuck Amato in head coaching four years longer than warranted. Being traded for Eli. Shipping Drew Brees to the Big Easy. Regularly ignoring the check down to LT. Showing up for the 2006 Pro Bowl and somehow not being asked to leave. Defining “Cool & Tough” in Indianapolis last weekend. Looking like he should work at a fireworks store.

Weakest Shit We Ever Heard: Got married and started having kids at 19. Forfeited all starting quarterback privileges in college. This move pretty much epitomizes our disdain for Rivers.

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We had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Having to dedicate PITFF to a guy who singlehandedly made movies like “Independence Day” and “Men In Black” not as fucking terrible as they should have been.

But it’s finally official (for the most part, if you consider presumptions from the Daily News official): Will Smith hates himself and is going through with his master plan to sabotage his wildly successful career.

Will is a Scientologist.

Gasp! We know.

We’ve seen this coming for quite awhile, but regardless, it’s still pretty much like the time we walked in on our dad watching porn. We kind of figured he did it, but life would have been better had we just not known.

The only real question anyone can ask at this juncture is: What the fuck is Big Willy be thinking? It’s like he made a checklist of everything he has going for him (”Will is A) Likeable, B) Genuine, C) Non-controversial; Will has a good sense of humor and would take his kids to the doctor if they got sick”) and then scavengered the earth for the one move that would devastate all those positive traits in a single blow.

BAM! Mutha Fuckin’ SCIENTOLOGY!

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Much in the same vain as this week’s Hump Day, we want the first PITFF of 2008 to really encompass everything the segment is about, namely tooling on the shittiest people that walk the planet.

Luckily for us and our cause, Cisco Adler was born.

There’s a good chance you don’t know who the fuck Cisco Adler is, and believe us, that’s a good thing. Because this guy represents the new generation of Motley Crue-esque fame, except without tracks like Dr. Feelgood. Cisco is in a shitty band that plays shitty music and looks like he should be cleaning toilets somewhere, yet the dude is quasi-famous and dates somewhat famous and attractive starlets, a la Mischa Barton.

Now, we probably wouldn’t trade a well-made ham sandwich for the opportunity to chat with Mischa Barton, but taking a look at Cisco you should get where we’re coming from.

Cisco Adler’s PITFF Qualifications

Famous For: 1) Being in a shitty band called “Whitestarr” that was featured on a VH1 show. 2) Dating Mischa Barton, aka the chick on “The O.C.” that wasn’t Rachel Bilson, aka the famous chick with the really long torso. 3) Exposing his massive balls to the planet via the world wide web.

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We’re going to apologize in advance for doing our audience a great disservice: introducing everyone to Riley Giles.

We only know who this goon is because it’s (kind of) our job to keep up with shitty people we might write about. You should be completely unaware of his presence. And now–by us making you aware he exists–we may have thrown a serious wrench into your daily life. You will probably spend the next month debating whether or not to hunt down this dude and euthanize him in his sleep for the betterment of mankind.

We go out of our way to exclude the names Britney, Paris, and Lindsay from this site. But today, when it comes to the uber-douche that is Riley Giles, we’ll make an exception.

Riley is the hardcore, pipe-hitting wigger that started dating Lindsay Lohan when she got out of rehab. She peaced him a couple of months ago, and now he’s giving interviews about dating Lindsay. Who gives a shit, right? Coke whores and tools in backwards Yankees caps deserve each other, right? Sure they do.

Well, in this dude’s interviews he’s claiming that Lindsay Lohan is a sex addict (highly believable) and that it’s his dong that created the monster (not so highly believable).

Check out the full interview here. It’s rather enlightening. If you enjoy hating members of your own species, that is. Because reading Riley Giles quotes and seeing Riley Giles pictures will most likely compel you to find a way to wipe his DNA from the planet.

Riley Giles’s PITFF Qualifications

Famous For: Boning a washed up, strung out Lindsay Lohan. (more…)

We don’t give a shit if Roger Clemens used HGH. Let’s go ahead and get that out of the way. As far as we’re concerned every single dude who played professional baseball in the nineties shotgunned a concoction of growth hormones and horse tranquilizers every single morning. We would have been doing the same had we not been introduced to Doc Gooden in 1986.

No, this devastating upper cut to the jaw has nothing to do with the Rocket’s pitching ability, enhanced or otherwise. We’re punching Roger in the face because he’s a fat-faced, attention-whoring prima donna that consistently gets jammed down our throats when all we want to do is concentrate on football.

Sure, Roger probably didn’t orchestrate the current media frenzy over his alleged HGH use, but the son of a bitch brought it on himself with all his “look at me, look at me, I might retire, I might not” grand-standing bullshit over the last five years. That’s why the blame falls squarely on him.

The end result? ESPN, the radio, and the majority of sports blogs are once again stuck in the quagmire that they consider interesting journalism: debating steroid use in baseball. A subject that has the highest reverse correlation of public interest to media coverage levels of any media topic ever. We conducted a study.

So, Roger, for being a world class asshole and for hogging the headlines in December when we should be fully immersed in the NFL and bowl season, go fuck yourself here’s your punch in the face.

Roger Clemens’s PITFF Qualifications

Number of Times He’s Attempted to Retire: 5, by our count (’03-’07). Just edging out Brett Favre and Jay-Z for the title.

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We understand that the Falcons’ gig didn’t exactly play out the way Bobby Petrino anticipated. The quarterback’s doing time, the defensive players have attitude problems, and the football community is beginning to realize that the Falcons’ GM has been taking draft day advice from Matt Millen.

We get it: Not the job Bobby Petrino signed up for.

But was it too much to ask for this dude to not be a complete and utter fucking weasel about getting out of the job? Guess it was.

And how do you feel if you’re an Arkansas fan? Well, you probably feel better than you did on Monday. It’s slightly less humiliating to have Bobby “Sackless” Petrino as your coach than having five other dudes not wanting to be your coach.

Bobby Petrino’s PITFF Qualifications

Coaching Experience: Weber State, Idaho, Arizona State, Utah State, Nevada, Auburn, the Jacksonville Jags, Louisville, the Atlanta Falcons, and now Arkansas in a span of 25 years.

Why That Sucks: Dude hops jobs like we hop relationships. Feigns commitment, then bolts in the middle of the night.

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