Sir Richard Branson, Billionaire, Butt-Flasher: the video

So the deal is this: Sir Richard “Hottie” Branson, the closest thing England has to an attractive man, was going to rapell down the side of the Fantasy Tower at the Palms in Vegas, to publicise the new Virgin Airways flight from San Fran to Vegas. Things went about as smoothly as you’d expect, once you knew it would pop up here: ie, things got grossly out of hand, resulting in Sir Richard banging the side of the building repeatedly (whether or not it was his type we have been unable to determine; and oh, WHY must it be a mere building: Richard, call me) and also in his splitting his pants up the backside, revealing some dusky grey tighty greyeys, much to onlookers’ amusement.

the 50 best breasts in movie history

Sophia Loren and Jayne Mansfield are bosom buddies

I’m going to be on vacation for the rest of the week, and posting only occasionally if at all, so I sifted the entire internets and came up with something that should keep you occupied (if typing one-handed) till I get back; it’s a video roundup of the best boobs in Hollywood History.

If you think about it, they could do this with mastectomy patients and get twice as much A for each T, and twice as many girls altogether, but Hollywood is strangely deficient in uniboobage, so what can you do? They made the brest of it, I guess.

Your own complaints, commendations, and recommendations in the comment section, pervs. I know I can count on you.

Greased Retriever

What can you say about a dog that boogies to Grease better than Travolta? Nothing except: watch this!

Britney’s Sex Tape and Post Odds

The Gambler

The deal is this, although Metro doesn’t know the deal. At one time he did, but that was at least six beers ago, and now he knows nothing other than what I tell him and that includes original additions to the Cthulhu Mythos, to which he furrows his brow and goes…uh…wait…hold on…and I hand him another beer and objections are quickly forgotten.

There was also an attempt by his wife to add aliens and various other restrictions to the blog posts, but they are hereby overruled.

Anyway, the deal is that after drinking beer throughout the viewing of Two Days in the Valley, Tapeheads, and Phil the Alien, we would blog, and we would go hit-to-hit on brand, spanking new posts.

And as you know I’m all about the hits.

Okay, 2:20 in the morning is not the best time to get hits, but there are worse.

Reading his post, which he finished at great apparent effort while I answered four comments and three questions in the technical help forum, googled the image of a loser, uploaded it to Photobucket, and worked on this post, it appears that he thinks the issue is simple coherence, which any fool knows a drunk can achieve simply by imitating Hemingway.

And so I ask you to evaluate Metro’s post either in light of total hits OR in light of its ability to evoke Hemingway.

He’s got some 80’s dreck music playing, so I’ve cranked up the Mylene Farmer Megamix. Thank god for YouTube; it’s impossible to find MP3’s in this world, but you can always find YouTubes.

And since I titled this post so specifically, we can be certain that it will draw at least a finite number of readers. Deluded, misguided readers, it is true. But readers nonetheless.

Howdy, y’all!

Free Britney, bitch

Free Britney, bitch

I’d wear it.