I must admit, I’m not exactly sure what the Spa Awards are. But Irina Shayk and her super wicked hot self was either receiving one or giving one out in Germany over the weekend. Not that she doesn’t deserve whatever accolades she can receive, but if this happens to be for performance in an actual spa, then I can imagine Irina Shayk is probably unbeatable in this category. Can you imagine a woman you’d more like to hang out with in a hot tub? Nay.
Irina Shayk is most clearly heaven sent. But if you don’t think the devil has a bit to say about these heaven sent hotties, you’re fooling yourself. She’s temptation incarnate. Tempt away, Irina, we can take it. Enjoy.
You could do worse than making Irina Shayk the wicked hot body of your dramatic new lingerie line. I guess the silk and lace knitting folks at La Clover figured this out, bringing out the alluring Russian ringer to get all kind of lust inducing in their panties and bras and other intimates that I would cause me to feint if I ever saw the likes of Irina Shayk modeling them in person.
Once again, the simplicity of marketing genius comes to the forefront. Make skimpy clothes, hire Irina Shayk to model them for you, sell tons of shmata. I know people go to school for years to try and learn this stuff, but you follow the Shayk model, you can probably save yourself a whole lot of student debt. Maybe even enough to pay for Irina Shayk. So hot. Enjoy.
Talk about two champions of the hot body world coming together in an epic sandwich of bikini pimping. Nina Agdal (above) an her body that everybody wants to either sell or to, you know, do other things with. And Irina Shayk, world class sultry babe…
…both working overtime with bodies that won’t quit, can’t quit, and simply won’t ever be fired to push the Beach Bunny swimwear line. I suppose the idea is that you buy a Beach Bunny suit and you will look like either Irina or Nina. I wonder if you get your pick or just have to leave that magical effect up to Mother Nature. Either way, you can’t really go wrong. This is similar to how when I don a Speedo, I look like Michael Phelps, on the inside stoner side mostly I guess. Marketing geniuses at Beach Bunny score another round. Enjoy.
Make of it what you will, but the Elton John AIDS Foundation party tends to bring out the biggest shows of cleavage each Oscar Sunday, with the lovely ladies of L.A. saving up their funbaggery for when the more stately Academy Awards come to a conclusion.
Heidi Klum, Kim Kardashian, Kelly Rowland, Britney Spears, Ashley Greene, and Irina Shayk all came up noteworthy in the category of most chest exposed on an otherwise pretty modestly dressed night for most of the actual movie stars. The Elton John party ticket is the hottest in town, if you can get it, which you can, for eight thousand times my hourly play rate. I had to save up this year to buy a new carbon fiber yo-yo, so I skipped, but I would never miss out on hot celebrity chestiness. Enjoy.
I’m not even going to begin to speculate the means by which Christie Brinkley looks so incredible at age sixty, I’m merely going to appreciate, ogle, and imagine she’s my mom and I have a bad tummy ache that needs rubbing. It’s really something out of the inexplicable handbook of hotness. You throw in the sextastic poses of Irina Shayk in a super tight dress and suddenly you have a party.
Officially, a celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit editions of their magazine. Hard to believe that was once a radical idea for a sports magazine has blossomed into something so wonderfully for leering each and every February. People who complain about modern times have no clue what life was like before you could see wicked hot women in tiny bikinis at the newsstand. It must have been truly awful times. Enjoy.