via email from Raj. I’m pretty sure I dated this guy, but he wasn’t that good-looking back then or I’d have retrained and retained him. Go a little Barbara Woodhouse on his ass a few times and she’d be up on that pedestal again in no time, while the bike shivered under a carelessly-thrown tarp.
And with the best chest, if you ask me.
In the realm of carnal beauty there is no shortage of icons. From Helen of Troy to Brigitte Bardot to Carmen Electra, the competition has always been brutal and the loser taken hindmost…or, wait…you know what I mean.
At the very pinnacle of sexual desirability are the Bond Girls. From the blonde, slinky Honey Ryder to the brunette, slinky Vesper Lynd, Bond Girls have always been seen as the very definition of female hotness, driving men cooler than Bond into raging hormone frenzies and irrationally long wait times at NetFlix. Their faces and bodies have launched a million suavetés, convincing Red State palookas and sub-Arctic lumberjacks alike that all they need to do is look good in the monkey suit and drink Martinis and the ladies will come swarming.
And we will, you know.
I was at the Urban Mixer West End Martini Tour, along with a hundred perfect, and perfectly friendly, strangers, and quite a variety of garb was on display; we had some people in jeans, we had many in suits and cocktail dresses, and we had one man in a tuxedo.
And he was surrounded by women, all night. Are you taking notes, boys?
For the record, my Bond Girl name is Faith Mountain. Dayum, I could do better than that; lessee, um, uh, well, how about Jeanine Tonique? Butter Tartt? Pandora Box?
In any case, I ran across this on the Guardian site, and it’s one of the funniest things I’ve read in ages. As always with Jeanette Winterson, I’m not sure I agree but I do enjoy. It’s well-written, it’s witty, and it is very well-informed. The research must have been gruelling, poor thing.
And as anyone ’round these parts could tell you, if you want an honest evaluation of girls, ask a lesbian.
My mission, and I chose to accept it, was to watch Bond movies and summon up some firepower on the Bond women. I could gun down the pathetic sexism of early Bond, or the patronising raised eyebrow of mid-Bond, and we could detonate the tortured hero of Brosnan Bond, and, guess what? I will. But first, let’s agree that Bond movies are fabulous fun.
I don’t know which I enjoy more – the cars or the girls. I didn’t buy my 3-litre BMW because I saw Goldeneye, but I was very upset when Bond got the Z8 in The World Is Not Enough. Why? I can’t afford to spend £80,000 on a car, even though I long for a champagne cooler under the handbrake. Driving round Cheltenham without one is a mini-roundabout too far. If I knew there was a Dom Perignon ’53 ready to drink on touchdown in the multistorey car park, I would feel less like machine-gunning Burger King, as I pass it for the 20th time in a traffic labyrinth that could have been devised by Dr No…
aka 45 Years Later
My good friend engtech has passed along the transcript of the Britney-K-Fed-Ex dumping text message exchange. This top-secret document was no doubt leaked by the very hacker who cracked Paris Hilton‘s sidekick. What would we do without celebrity-obsessed hackers? We’d have to write our own bloody blog content, that’s what, and nobody wants to see that happen.
Here’s a slice of the transcript, available at drivl.com, which has the makings of my new spiritual home, via engtech.
Britney: hey kev, y’all remember when i was hot?
Kevin: po po yeah, i wuz like dayum bitches i hit the jackpot!
Britney: well i just crapped out federline junior #2, and i worked, like, super hard to lose all that weight and y’all haven’t said nothin. i even did a couple of, whatya call ’em, where you sit up a buncha times…anyway, i cut down to eating only three bags of cheetos a day, and that was hard!
Kevin: po po cheetos are off the hook fo sho…
Awwww. Turns out that the rumoured “Britney sex tape” isn’t Britney. Fleshbot has the final word, as well as the actual video, so satisfy your… curiosity yeah, that’s it, curiosity, with this link.
But on the other hand, the hopes and dreams of millions of men who were kinda sorta hoping she’d be better at giving head are preserved.
The Democrats have the House.
The Democrats may take the Senate.
And Britney Spears is a free woman and could, possibly, be really good at giving head.
It’s Springtime in America!
raincoaster 