- by Jennifer on September 14th, 2010
The Bubble Baba Russian Sex Doll River Race Photos Are NSFW
THE photos of the Bubble Baba Russian sex doll race are inspiring to anyone who has ever found cause to buy a sex doll.
In the 1980s, you could explain the sex doll in your bedroom cupboard as a football extra. In the 1990s, that sex doll in your bed had been placed there by other members of your Stag do party. In the Noughties, the sex doll was hers.
Now the doll is a pleasure boat.
The race is the work of Dmitry Bulawinov, who thought of the thing as a joke at a party where the men
got drunk and the women didn’t show up.
The boaty types, race along Vuoksa River’s Losevo Rapids in the Bubble Baba Challenge.
The winner was St. Petersburg man Vladislav Pavlenko, who rode SS “Vanilla Pelotki” to the finish line two minutes and 47 seconds.
There is separate women’s race, where the inflatables feature a novelty rudder…
- by Jennifer on August 5th, 2010
[There are over 100 million sites on the Internet. 100 million! You might think you know about all the important ones (CollegeCandy, Gmail, Google, TFLN…), but there are thousands of other sweet sites out there (like Beauty Story; Dear Blank, Please Blank; and Specials Agent) and more showing up every day! We get it – it’s not easy or fun sifting through the crap and porn to find those gems, so we’re gonna bring the gems to you. Just sit back, kick up those feet and allow us to introduce you to the diamonds in the internet rough.]
- by Jennifer on August 1st, 2010
Betty White – Saturday Night Live (2010 NPR Skit)
- by Jennifer on May 6th, 2010
While it’s extremely difficult to get the precise numbers, I can say that unfortunately, unknowingly, and very much to my Brazilian waxed vaginal dismay I became part of 2009’s infidelity statistic. This unequivocally and absolutely goes against every grain of my moral, cellular and ethical being. And now my poor unsuspecting adulterous vagina — I just found out about this sexual and dishonorable tidbit of information last night over a Guinness beer at one of my favorite local Irish pubs.
I don’t remember the exact day, but what I do remember is that it was one of those typical warm California Summer nights — I recall feeling salty, sandy, and tanned from spending the afternoon at the beach, despite having taken a shower before heading out for food and cocktails. I was wearing black short shorts, brown equestrian style boots, and a vintage western blouse as I breezily went for sushi happy hour at an extremely trendy Venice Beach hot spot.
Once there, I ended up bumping into a local guy/friend that I once casually dated and his other friends at the bar. The guy I used to date had one friend who just so happened to be tall, dark and devilishly handsome. I was attracted to him immediately and the more he flirted with me the more charming and engaging he became.
The possibility of romance going further than the bar was absolutely the gigantic cartoonish caption bubble hovering over my captivated swooning head – A devilishly handsome flirty guy along with his tempting wooing ways was just too impossible to be true. However, he was I’d like to blank your brains out too hot to ignore.
As we all finished up at the bar, devilishly handsome guy invited me back to his swanky shoreline Santa Monica hotel for cocktails and while at the hotel’s bar the flirting became more sexual, but I was not objecting — perhaps he is “the one”?
Our heated exchange went on for about an hour and then he authoritatively asked for and paid our tab while simultaneously asking me if I wanted to go to his room. I’m not naive and figured that once getting there, I would go only as far as I wanted (sex wise). Immediately, when we got into the room he ordered a really good bottle of wine and it did not take long before we were on the bed kissing, clothes off, and having sex.
One thing that really pops out in my mind (no pun intended) was his forcefulness as he pushed my head to his “head” which in retrospect now seems to be overtly selfish behavior on his behalf. And what I now know became to be a one night stand with a married man.
He got up quickly right after he came and went to take a shower, as I laid there for a fast minute I knew I had to leave — something was not right. As I put my clothes back on, I wondered if I should leave my business card or my number on the hotel notepad. I opted not to and left quickly while he was still in the shower. I could see the steam drifting out from the slight crack in the pristine five-star hotel door….
To be continued.
- by Jennifer on May 5th, 2010
Bad Date TV: Bad Date Betty and Ben – This Was A Date?