bill-swift - June 6, 2013
Somebody had an upscale party in Paris and left me completely off the e-vite. Blows. On the other hand, I am booked for this weekend for Aunt Millie's garden party, which isn't such a bad second choice as Aunt Millie is a notorious ganja smoker of the highest order, so when she says garden party, well, I'm bringing lots of boxes of Bugles.
Still, it might be nice every now and then to get one of those fancy invites to places like where Rihanna goes at night when in Paris, flashing all kinds of cleavage. Not to mention a velour type catsuit that evokes memories of 70's porn for me. Not that I was watching porn in the 70's, but thank god for archiving of vintage adult movie making if you know what I'm saying.
For Rihanna, this isn't truly a risque outfit. Neither by Parisian standards. Still, were I at the party, I would be inclined to be leaning over the Bajan singer and pretending to be looking for lost French pennies on the floor. Enjoy.
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