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Breaking: HCwDB Celebrity Culture Stains Marissa Miller and Some Leechy Goober About to Spawn
First the Snooki baby, and now this.
Thankfully, ABC News was all over the breaking story of Marissa Miller tweeting a pic of herself swimming underwater:
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Former Victoria’s Secret Angel Marisa Miller revealed her baby bump to her Twitter followers on Tuesday while celebrating her 34th birthday.
The former model, who is expecting a baby with her husband music producer Griffin Guess, shared an image snapped of her in a bikini while swimming underwater.
“Thanks so much for all the sweet birthday wishes! Love you all! I had the best day and spent most of it under water…,” she wrote.
Miller is entering the third trimester if her pregnancy. On August 2 she tweeted an image of herself, writing, and “This was a month ago at 17 weeks. My belly seems to have doubled since! Had to paddleboard to get to this cave.’
Miller joins model Bar Refaeli and reality TV star Kim Kardashian in what seems to be a new trend of women tweeting images and video of themselves underwater.
Israeli model Refaeli tweeted a sexy black and white video ad earlier this summer of her swimming in a pool for her under.me underwear line. In early August, Kardashian tweeted a photo taken of her flaunting her curves in a two-piece. The starlet simply wrote, “Swim good” to her followers.
Miller and Guess, who wed in 2006, are expected to welcome their first child in December.
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The next-generation battles of HCwDB Mock will be epic Bruckheimerian spectacles of ridicule and boobie.
Breaking: Marissa Miller Still Married to a Twatwaffle
Just as she was in January of 2011.
And May of 2009.
And February of 2008.
This coupling atrocity will always be breaking news. Until the inevitable Divorce or Bleething occurs.
Breaking: Sports Illustrated Model Marissa Miller Is Still Married to a Twatwaffle
We’ve been tracking one of the longest and most inexplicable celebrity Hottie/Douchey cohabits to maintain itself here on the site since early 2008, with depressing updates in late 2008 and 2009.
I speak, of course, of the uberbobuous Marissa Miller and her astonishing decision not just to date or hook up with, but to marry, a heaping load of yakspittle.
Marissa Miller and Cactus didn’t win the 2008 Douchie Award for celebrity HCwDB, losing to the toxic vegas crud that is Criss Angel and Assorted Vegas Porn Hotts, but their stench has gained from sheer longevity.
Anyone who thinks that because douchebaggery has become self-aware in the age of the Jersey Shore just like Cyberdyne Systems did on August 29th, 1997, doesn’t realize that that doesn’t mean the war ended. It means the war has only begun.
Breaking: Marissa Miller Still Married to Douche Cactus
2008 Douchie Award Finalist for “Douchiest Celebrity Couple,” Marissa Miller and Cactus are still married.
Repeat… still married.
HCwDB News will keep you updated with the latest as it unfolds in this developing story.
By which we mean the moment Marissa Miller wakes up one morning and says, “I’m Marissa Miller. wtf.”
If you’re curious who won the 2008 Douchie Award for Douchiest Celebrity Couple, the answer is here. As if you had to ask.
Breaking: Marissa Miller Turning into Douchebaguette
We’ve been tracking the celeb HCwDB pairing of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model Marissa Miller and her husband, Ass Pimple, on the site for awhile now, as seen here, here and here.
This is a tragic warning as to what happens when hott commingles near faux-scrote for any extended length of time.
That being said, I’d brave the talons of a pen of hungry chickens in outer Montana just for the chance to briefly fondle the used kleenex left behind by her temperamental rural cousin, Gertrude.
BREAKING: Marissa Miller Still Married to Douchepimple
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue cover model and future bacon between my lettuce and tomato, Marissa Miller, is still married to a heaping douchepimple.
While this may not constitute “breaking news” like a tsunami or hurricane, it is still worth noting for posterity’s sake.
And by posterity, I mean her posterity. Which is round. And pink. And smells like flowers and petunias.
And by noting, I mean laughing hysterically at this clown’s Big Top, then yanking off his goofy white watch and throwing it in the Hudson.
Breaking: Marissa Miller Still Married to Douche
Yes, it is not technically breaking news that Sports Illustrated model Marissa Miller is married to a giant paper bag of flaming monkey crap chin pubes asswipe flush.
But it’s still like getting a root canal without novocaine after shoving toothpicks into your uvula.
Marissa Miller and a Cactus
Courtesy of WWTDD.com, Sports Illustrated cover-girl hott Marissa Miller is apparently married to a cactus douche.
But at least we know what the shape was that obsessed Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
HCwDB of the Week: The 'Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters
In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.
The voters speak:
melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run
Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.
Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.
Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.
justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.
Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.
Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.
Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.
Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.
Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.
Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.
Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.
dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.
I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:
douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.
Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.
Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.
Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.
Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…
End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.
Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.
Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.
The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:
Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”
ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.
opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.
Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.
Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.
Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:
Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.
Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.
HCwDB of the Week: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters
In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.
The voters speak:
melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run
Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.
Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.
Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.
justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.
Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.
Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.
Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.
Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.
Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.
Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.
Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.
dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.
I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:
douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.
Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.
Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.
Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.
Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…
End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.
Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.
Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.
The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:
Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”
ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.
opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.
Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.
Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.
Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:
Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.
Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.
