As tomorrow represents the once a millennium or so coincidence of Hanukkah and Thanksgiving, I probably will be too high on tryptophan to get around to a celebration of our favorite Chosen Girls for the Jewish Holidays type post. However, in a surprising twist, the not even close to Hebraic Miranda Kerr decided to ring in the Festival of Lights be strapping together two kippahs over her funbags for a shoutout to the first night of the eight day temple oil miracle. It’s possible I’m reading into this photo just a bit.
The uber-sextastic Miranda did happen to flash shis Coco Chanel utterly tiny udder cover in i-D magazine as part of the journals digital relaunch. It’s definitely working. I can even feel the after-burners taking me toward the heavens. Enjoy.
I heard someone the other day talking about how Miranda Kerr was finished, done, kaput. Out of Victoria’s Secret, splitting up from Pirate boy, no longer relevant. Well, I boxed that medium to short-statured older woman square in the ear. What utter nonsense. Miranda Kerr will never be done. She’s only just getting started. She’s like a fine wine, in so much as the older she gets, the less likely I will be to find her joining me at my table at The Sizzler.
Just look at that fine body and booty on Miranda at the Jaguar pimping event out in Playa Vista. Talk about your sleek lines, high performance, and jaw-dropping handling. I’d like to handle her while my jaw dropped. Just ever so fine. Don’t make me cuff you again, old woman. Miranda Kerr isn’t going anywhere. Enjoy.
You probably don’t have a subscription to Self magazine, but as you know, despite the painful taunts of the middle school skaters outside my front door, I do cherish that time of the month when the ladies magazines arrive at the door step of my pied-a-tierre and I may once again feast upon the inspirational delights of the likes of a freshly single Miranda Kerr posing and preening in her workout gear.
You may know workout gear and stretching as the universal symbol that a woman is over her last man and ready to move on. If you read enough women’s magazines, you’ll see this pattern repeated quite often. It’s right up there with new hair-do. Being a man is far easier. They just have to be spotted with a new girl for the world to see they’ve moved on. Then again, men don’t look like Miranda Kerr in form fitting clothes stretching her fine female form. Enjoy.
Here’s the little film V magazine put together of their recent photoshoot with Miranda Kerr homaging 70′s Italian porn star Cicciolina. It’s, well, it’s very fecund in its imagery you might say. Not that you need much push toward reproductive thoughts when peeking at the freshly single Miranda Kerr doing her porn star thing in a short Italian ode to classic eroticism.
Just something about this video makes me very happy. Like, I’m where I belong. Well, at least, I can see a picture of the farm where I belong, along with Miranda in her blonde wig as we figure out a way to forget her lonely marriage. I’ve got ideas. Enjoy.
My Dearest Flynn:
I want you to know that your mommy and your original daddy who was once in a pirate movie and likes to wear motorcycle helmets still care for you very much. And I hope someday you can understand that there are forces in this world even more powerful than parental love. Like the raw passion two adults feel for each other than can’t be ignored. I’m talking about bare nekkid honey slathering bodily desire to slap body parts together morning, noon, and night, until the neighbors call the cops. Moaning, screaming, shaking eruptions of heat meeting heat in a carnal pit of indignity. The good news is, you will get many new toys to keep you occupied and nanny will be taking you on so many long, long walks. Also, you’ll have all the appropriate counseling services you require, provided I can find Groupon rates for the doctors.
Note: I’d ask that any press inquiries regarding Miranda Kerr and her marital separation be referred to IMG Models in Sydney and any inquiries regarding Miranda and myself can be answered later today at the In & Out Burger on Sunset where I will be bragging to anybody interest in listening.
We don’t go much for fashion in these parts. And while Paris Fashion Week rages on and all the critics and fashionistas and fancy ladies ooh and ahh over things I do not understand, well, along comes Miranda Kerr in thigh high boots to make a statement that even the most fashion ignorant male can understand — hotness.
Now, I could spend the next five hours detailing the every move of Miranda Kerr and her power boots reminding me of what a bad boy I’ve been and laying out some punishment of a very brutally sweet kind on yours truly, but, I’d rather not have a paper record of certain thoughts I have that represent crimes currently in over 97 nations. Suffice it to say, I’d like to watch Miranda zipper her boots up, and down, and up, and down. Fashion week just got interesting again. Enjoy.
Since some folks are selling during Paris Fashion Week, some folks must be buying. Which is of little consequence to us here, except when that somebody happens to be Miranda Kerr in a low cut dress, rummaging about the expensive boutiques of Paris because, well, because that is what women with means do. Somebody has to buy a thousand dollar skirt. It’s not going to be me. I’d buy a thousand dollar Super Bowl ticket maybe if my team ever made it, but I’ll surely not be wearing a skirt at the game (pre-game drinking waives all ability to keep this promise).
Miranda Kerr is not just a sextastic seller of clothes, she’s a hot looking shopper. I’d love to accompany her on one of her trips so I can stare at her sweet top in between making excuses about how I left my AmEx black card back at the Four Seasons. Oh, we would giggle. And she would kick me in the shins. But it’d all be worth it. Enjoy.