Ah, Katie Price. Model, reality star, and noted author. Well, noted as having the largest yams of anybody who’s ever put out more than a half dozen or so books perhaps. I’m not sure Katie writes them, I’m quite sure I will never read them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t rejoice in the display of ta-ta’s she puts on every single time she puts another tome out in into the Amazon world. I’ll say this for Katie, she knows how to get the press to show up for her announcements.
Katie’s new book is called Make My Wish Come True. I’m going to go ahead and state that unless her wish is to have a Yankee blogger motorboat her for five minutes then ask if she has any crackers, I probably can’t oblige. I’m sure the deeper meaning is between the covers. I’ll leave it to you to decipher as I sit here and gladly allow gravity to direct my eyeball orbitals in the direction of her massive mammary. There’s no hobby quite like reading. Enjoy.
You know when Katie Price brings out the big guns that she’s getting paid, and paid she was at the Worx studios because the freshly single noteworthy funbagged Katie Price showed some ample to monumental levels of her chest meat in support of the KP Rocks Launch.
Now, I know we’ve been hard on Katie in the past, but today, we’d just like to imagine all the fun things we could do with her mighty melons, like, build a beachfront shelter, or provide milk to a family of six. It could be worse. Enjoy.
Wow, the celebrity world was rocked when news leaked out that big fake boobtastic showgirl Katie Price had broken up with her boyfriend, what’s his stupid face, and was once again on the hunt for her next camera friendly boytoy.
And, to celebrate her new found singledom, Katie Price went extra big on the funbag display outside the Rose nightclub in London over the weekend. Now, we’re not suggesting that women with enormous hooters who flash tons of cleavage are more likely to find a guy than a conservatively dressed flat chested woman, but, at a bar at 3am, yes, yes they are.
Good luck on your hunt, Katie Price. Enjoy.
Yeah, not so much. But she did launch her lingerie line with lots of grease and shmaltz and tremendous boobage, so there’s that. Which seems more fitting for Katie Price anyhow.
Now, I’m not exactly who this lingerie line is target at. It seems to be low-end prostitute homemakers, call girls living in rural environs, or most likely, larger hirsute male trannies, but I suppose everybody has the right to bring their product to market. And they certainly have the right to use their enormous funbags to promote their wares. And we have the right to ogle. Enjoy.
I’ll say this, for all the times Katie Price gets loaded and flashes her panties (or less) up under her short skirts and dresses — I still look. Oh, sure part of this is the natural male instinct for sneaky peeks and lustful leers, but the other part is Katie Price, almost a perfect kind of mess really. Not all sloppy drunk celebrities know just how to nail this role, but Katie has a very good bead on it.
Out in Chelsea last evening, Katie got a bit snookered and flashed her knickers as she climbed into a car outside the Rose nightclub.
At some point many years down the road, Katie will be leaving Ladies Garden Clubs in matronly skirts, for now, we’re going to continue to soak up those sneaky peeks. Enjoy.
Amy Willerton is her name, and being like Katie Price is her game. Hmm, something seems amiss here.
Katie Price set out in her reality show, Signed by Katie Price, to discover the next, well, the next her and she claims to have found The One, in the shapely form of Amy Willerton, a nineteen year old Bristol girl whose life aspirations at the moment seem to be wanting to do exactly what Katie does, which is still rather unclear, outside of sleeping with male celebrities, which I’m guessing Amy can jump into straightaway.
The boobtastic mentor and ment-ee flashed their workable assets for photographers at the big announcement ceremony, causing at least us to pretty clearly envision Amy’s next ten years on the public stage, and it’s a pretty raunchily delightful show we see. Enjoy.
Katie Price, our not so little celubutante from Brighton made her way across the pond to Miami where Hector, our man with the milk cartons and mirrors turned into a maximum telescopic view finger, snapped some candid poolside bikini photos of the not-so au natural blonde and her noteworthy body. It’s quite the in-thing these days to rag on Katie Price for being a Britty version of Kim Karsdashian, but, I think Kris Jenner already owns the rights to all international versions of her she-bot daughter, so we will be sued if we even make the comparison.
What is a rightful comparison is the hot body, the ever changing appearance, and the celebrity getting-down time. And the fact that when in a bikini, or less, we can’t stop leering. Enjoy.