Kelly Brook didn’t tell me formally, but, thankfully, my Kelly Brook booty alert early warning system triggered the moment Kelly landed at LAX for an extended stay in our fair city. This got me ready to imagine all sort of Kelly Brook fun time tourist type stops, like, Disneyland or the Santa Monica Pier or the bedroom of my apartment where I finally changed the sheets just in case. B
ut, Kelly chose to ignore my hospitable invite for the time being to strap on some stretch pants and get in a little exercise slash big round bottom exhibition time in the streets of our fair burgh. It was quite the show. Wooty always rouses me from my morning fog, like rays of sextastic sunlight powering up my hungover synapses.
Bless you, stretch pants. Bless you, Kelly Brook. I’m making Ramen again tonight, Kelly. Call me, I’ll send a car. My buddy Jiff in his ’03 Passat. Enjoy.