I see that wannabe never-was celebrity Bai Ling is going to be indiscreet:
“I just feel at this stage of my life, it’s about time to tell these fascinating stories about those men everybody knows.” [the washed-up 54-year-old actress explained]
Mind you, she’s never been known for her discretion, playing on that (inexplicable) American male “Asian fantasy chick” fetish forever.
And she’s always been the Queen Of The “Accidental Nip-Slip”:
And as for the full monty:
In a move of pure class, I’ve dedicated all today’s posts to the concept of showing yer ass — figuratively and, as you will see below, literally.
After all, it seems to be all the fashion nowadays:
And on we go…
European football’s “Champions League” competition is an annual event — a mini-World Cup, so to speak — which attempts to answer the burning question: “Ignoring national boundaries, which is the best football club in Europe?”
I know that in these parts, football (“soccer”) is about as popular as Underwater Australian Wrist Wrestling (Friday nights @ 3am on ESPN), but bear with me because I’m not going to talk about the game anyway.
The ECL’s main TV host is an Albanian named Eva Amati, and she makes all our U.S. female sports presenters look like male drag artists.
And her Valentine’s Day pic:
I want to lie on a bed and listen to her murmur sweet Italian* nothings in my ear.
*She speaks Italian and English fluently, as well as her native Albanian.
Today we’re going to look (in some detail) at Camila Giorgio, who in her early thirties has recently retired from an unremarkable career in tennis:
…and moved into a different kind of career altogether.
No, not music. While it is generally true that tennis totties have nice legs, Camila’s are sensational.
Tennis’s loss; our gain.
This is Austro-Philipino totty Myleene Klass, who was a singer with some Britpop band back in the early 2000s, and is now something or other else in showbiz.
Not too bad for her late 40s…
Among the several things about Modern Life that make me ultra-peevish is this thing about people walking around carrying drinks — water bottles, Yeti flasks, what have you — and I want to ask people (loudly) whether they think they’re going to die of thirst before they can get to the nearest tap or drinking fountain. Mostly, this applies to women, the precious creatures, because Teh Experts tell us that We Must Remain Hydrated, Lest We Die.
Maybe when you’re crossing the fucking Mojave Desert, but not when you’re crossing the street in Dallas or Los Angeles.
However, let it not be said that I’m completely intolerant in this regard. I am prepared, for instance, to make exceptions to my “Stop acting like a camel!” gripe in circumstances such as these:
…although I should also point out that not all women seem to need that oh-so important drink in their hand every time they step outdoors:
…and of course, there are those poor things in obvious need of sustenance:
I mean, I wouldn’t want y’all to think I was that Krool & Hartless, after all.
But in all honesty, if you’re that thirsty, get off the street and find a place to assuage your thirst — and there are many of them, in cities all over the world. Places like these:
It’s really not too much to ask.