Yeah, everyone loves big breasts… especially with a bit of hot sauce.
Of course, this commercial, like many, points out just how weird white South Africans are…
In the wake of all this Lane Kiffin controversy, where the former UT Vols coach is skipping out to head USC, I’ve had very little to say but one thing…
“Lane Kiffin? Oh, sorry! I didn’t even realize UT had a coach.”
Only three people laughed. The rest tried to explain, “Oh, yeah, you don’t care about football, huh? Well, Lane Kiffin was…”
Yes, the rock I’ve been living under was impenetrable. These explanations only stand as more proof that people just don’t get sacrilege. Err, I mean, sarcasm.
It seems that UT Vols Basketball Coach Bruce Pearl may be hardest hit by the news that Lane Kiffin is leaving, given his statement last year regarding how well he got along with the Football Coach:
I’m trying to date his wife. But that’s not working out too good.
Two thousand, one hundred eighty-eight miles does tend to add an additional layer of complexity to his covetous courting.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, as if she’s been being whisked off to another country never to be seen or heard from again, literally thousands of Tennesseeans are searching Google and other search engines for photos of Layla Kiffin nude. As if there are any naked pics of Layla Kiffin lying thoughtlessly around the Internet…
Numerous bloggers have lamented Kiffin’s decision to leave based on their lust for Layla’s sweater kittens, however few have managed to convey their emotions so succinctly as Sports Pickle.
Personally, I find it interesting they should reference both breasts and Governor Bredesen in the same paragraph… again… But I digress…
Perhaps it’s just me, but rather than “HOT,” I prefer to think of her as ‘decorative,’ as in, “may look nice loosely draped over a couch, where the color of her hair might possibly match the otherwise sparse decor.” Not that I particularly give a damn about interior design, or even own a couch, but the whole Barbie Doll™ thing has never done much for me. I generally prefer womens’ brains to be equally as large as their breasts.
I mean … perhaps it’s a bit prejudicial, but she doesn’t exactly scream, “Rocket Surgeon,” to me.
But as for looking at photos of hot women with large breasts, I have my own stash to look at, taken with my own damn camera from 2007 and 2008… God… I miss those… err, I mean, her, back then she used to have the best breast augmentation and other surgeries to have a fit body and feel good with herself.
Note: Barbie is a Registered Trademark of Mattel Toys, God forbid they try and sue me, too.
Note: The term “Rocket Surgeon” is based loosely on the statement, “It’s not rocket surgery!” delivered several years ago by the bartender formerly known as Antoinette, now made famous by the captioned photograph hanging in Knoxville’s Preservation Pub.
The history of the purely American phenomenon of Halloween includes Trick or Treating for the kids (where they play welfare punks and sponge off neighnors for free sugar), some rather dastardly pranks, and, of course, women dressing like role-playing prostitutes. Apparently, we have a special fondness for Nurse outfits, especially when they’re showing lots of cleavage, which is probably the reason I’m still totally in love with that sexy CNA from 2007, but I digress…
We, at Blogitude.com, wish you all a happy, and, above all, SAFE Halloween.
That means, don’t call us at 4AM to come pick you up because you’re too drunk to drive. Call a cab like all the other poor sods. Especially, do not call us to bail you out of jail tomorrow, because, regardless of the fact that we may look like we’re made of money, you must remember that a significant portion of our income comes from Writing, and nobody wants to pay for this crap.
Former Senator and Presidential Hopeful John McCain’s 24-year-old daughter Meghan posted this photo on Twitter, with much rebuke.
Interestingly, if you look close enough, you can see a book called “Andy Warhol.”
I’d only add the following disclaimer…
WARNING: OBJECTS IN WEBCAM ARE
SMALLER THAN THEY APPEAR.
Seriously, what the Hell is everyone bitching about? I’ve seen more risque images on the Country Music Awards, for chrissakes, and nobody bitches about that… and she’s at least OF LEGAL AGE, unlike half the girls these friggin’ Internet pervs lust after (sick bastards should all be shot!).
For further entertainment, check out her article about the whole sordid ordeal.
UPDATE 10/17/2009 @ 1:29AM US/EASTERN
This just in from Fracas…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL_m81PNBXc
Although, the video would have been funnier if he’d glammed it up a bit and cried…
Tip: Kudos to Fracas for keeping me informed
I have decided on what one of the most annoying occurances in a woman’s life can possibly be.
I was at work and everything was coming up roses. I had an super great hair day. I even woke up early enough to slap on some war-paint. I had a box to pack up for a customer who is in a shit panic to get something done RIGHT NOW, after he had been advised a week ago that he needed to take action.
Whatever. Lack of planning on his dumb ass part, does not constitute a shit panic for me. None the less, I went ahead, as a good colleague would, and got his stuff put together for him and was putting the large part (a 50 pound instrument) into the box when I felt it…. SNAP! The underwire in my most favoritest bra gave out.
That kids, is annoying. My boob popped out of said bra into my shirt, making my the girls look all awkward and crooked. Needless to say, the bra came off and I wore my sweatshirt for the rest of the day.
I cried on the sales fella’s shoulder about how I had to have the camo Morgan Monroe guitar case, of which they only had one and was already half paid for by some psycho woman.
Being the spoiled brat I am, I tried to talk him into giving me that one and ordering her another one, but to no avail. Kids, I haggled this dude for 20 minutes before his son said, “Dad, I think there might be one upstairs in the storage room.”
The waters parted and the heavens opened when I saw the boy coming back down the stairs a mere 30 minutes later carrying the last one they would ever have.
I am such a good wife that I pay attention to all the stuff Big T says. And I specifically remember him making a mental note that he was going to go back and get that case one day. Check. I made a mental note too. I was sure it would get me a free pass for a wicked roll in the hay. Woo!
Anyhoo, I get home and try to get in the house before Big T can come help me in with the stuff. But, I didn’t make it. He was out the door before I could fart and run from it.
He asked obviously annoyed that I would have enough nerve to put something back there when he had specifically told me not to. “What’s that in the back of the seats? I thought I told you not to put anything back there, baby.”
“I know you did. It’s for Natalie (my kid) and it’s lightweight. I was afraid it would blow out of the bed if I put it back there.” I protested.
He rolled his eyes and said “Unlock the door, let’s get it out and take it in the house.”
What could I do. I handed him the key. Mind you, he’s had a hard-on for this particular item for a little over a year.
He pulls the box out and looks in it. I swear, I thought he was gonna cry. The look of horror on his face that he had found one of his Christmas presents.
Oh well, his bad. He ain’t gettin it until Christmas day. I’ll wrap that bitch up and put in under the tree anyway. He better act surprised and he better still give me some major league nookie.
So much for being a ninja.
As promised to Ms. P, I went ahead forewent my diet in order to keep Taco Bell in business. I have had a burrito and large Diet Dew two days in a row. There is no need for anybody so sweet to die of hunger because of my vanity. What the hell was I thinkin anyway? Maybe that is why I broke bitch in like 1.3 seconds… maybe it wasn’t PMS… maybe it was lack of bean burritos with extra red sauce.
Thank you, Puddin, you saved me from myself.
I respect the school zone and all of its components. However, some asshat in an SUV, who apparently woke up a little late, doesn’t.
I drive my kids to school every single day, as she is too much of a princess to ride the damn bus. Which is fine. I too was a princess. I take into consideration that I might just run into traffic in the school zones, and allow this into my alotted time for the AM commute. Generally I take it for what it is and am a mellow driver. I don’t suffer from road rage very often… until today. Today was the day I finally snapped.
Anyway, the forementioned asshat decided that he was in a hurry and as a result his SUV was raping my poor little car he was riding so close… like right up the tailpipe raping. Not like I could go anywhere any faster with the half mile of folks trying to do the same thing I was.
I didn’t think about my daughter (16) sitting next to me when I finally got pissed off. I rolled down the window and yelled back at him “If you’re gonna ride my ass, at least pull my hair, asshole!”
Ooops. Of course, my kid busted out laughing and looking back at him. He must’ve been humiliated cuz his boy was laughing his ass off as his dad yelled at him. Good. Back off and don’t ride other people’s bumper. It’s just consideration.
