Liar, Liar, Pants for Hire
Author: Jayne17 Nov
As many of you will have heard, David Beckham has recently been hired by Georgio Armani to model underwear…. for £20,000,000. Yes, that’s twenty million pounds. Not bad for standing around getting your picture taken and trying to look blase, constipated, and interesting all at the same time. (Models do have it tough!)
Which brings me to my point, that my husband is a big, fat liar. Okay, this isn’t actually my point, but it’s a way-point. He said to me, upon hearing this news, that, hell, he’d let someone take pictures of him sans trousers for 20! And I said, of course, you idiot. Anyone would model underwear for twenty million pounds. He said, no, I mean twenty POUNDS. Well, deal, said I. So I went to get my wallet and camera, only to find he had sprinted off down the hall. If he had actually been sans trousers at the time, I would have snapped the shots anyway, but sadly, he made the deal with breeches intact. Hmph!
So… now the actual point. How much would it take? Sure, twenty million is enough, and twenty quid is too little, but what exactly is my ass worth? Now, keep in mind, that although my BMI is about 28, I do have a little bit of pride. If someone is going to snap my 28 ass, it’s gonna cost them. But how much?
Well, ten grand isn’t enough, I think. That would pay the rent (um, maybe) but not buy me any chocolate (an ass like this has to be maintained, mind you.) I’d need enough to make up for the fact that I wouldn’t be able to face my friends, and would have to make newer, tubbier friends. So… the question is really how much are my friends worth?
I think a hundred grand ought to do it. So how much is your ass worth?
Georgio, if you’re reading this… you can reach me at the email address above.
————-
Note to bitter friends: Will be unavoidably unable to blog for a few days. Hope to be back toward the end of next week! Girl-Fren might be convinced to keep you company while I’m gone.
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Oh, don’t get me started….about hubbies who say one thing and do—er, hmmm—NOTHING. Unless one hires a lawyer, talk is cheap; and that’s what hubbies do best.
So, he sprints away down the hall, trousers intact. You know where he lives, when he showers; that picture can be had and we Bitter Women want vindication. Snap it! Post it! We’ll each send him 20 Quid.
There are far more BWs than care to admit it. If we all send him 20 Q, he could make as much as Beckham.
About how much my ass is worth, I’m not going there!
Hell, I’d do it for a hundred. Bring your camera and cheque book and I’ll prove it.
£100 pounds that is - I wouldn’t need £100,000 to show off my sweet cheeks.
Jayne, this probably won’t surprise you, since you’ve stopped by my place before, but for 20 pounds I’d let you take a picture of me in my undies and put it wherever on the WWW you wanted to.
Having said that- I am quite certain that pictures of me in my undies would not be the sort of thing that would vault your blog into the stratosphere and get you so many hits your server would crash, but I’d still do it.