Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Bratislava’s Finest
When Nietandia and her mother, Vashjevinkia, first came to the United States, they had great hopes and dreams of a land of promise, hope and wonderful opportunity. After a brief career as a seamstress for government, Vashjevinkia hoped to give her daughter chance to make good in new land.
Then they met Jake.
Two Dudes and an Eastern Bloc Prostitute
Will anyone cry for these three when Suicide Bomber Sahib in the background there let’s loose with his trademarked “ALALALALALALALALALALA!” and pushes the button?
.
.
.
Anyone?
.
.
Didn’t think so.
Love those eastern euro features. They don’t always age to well, though.
Jake makes pretty good money off of drunk hotties by removing the top two buttons from his shirts and pushing them as Ambien tablets.
^too
I really need that preview button.
Jake cleans up in the Eastern Russian nightclubs like this one. Karate Kid just came out over there so he tells everyone that he’s Ralph Macchio. It goes well until the babushkas figure out how bent the neck of his crane is.
But unfortunately Vashy and Niety had to settle for free drinks, crackers and dollar for photo with scrotes in order to survive.
Yasminka and Bruntujlska could not be more proud of their cousin, Brüno aka FabBrü, for landing the gig as set designer on Star Trek Fire Island.
All three of these ladies have large nuclear reactors on their chests.
Better bang them all before they melt-down.
Artie Lange spins the cd’s at Trablinka’s House of Latkes at the Russian AVN awards
Een Soviet Russia boobies stare at you.
it’s the 2010 version of a WIld and Kraaaaazy Guy
I’d love a peek at Vag-jevinkia’s racK!
Vashjevinkia looks like a NOTTAMILF.
Damn it, Darksock, I was coming over here to make the “Een Soviet Union” joke. Fine, here’s what you get:
Een Sovient Union, horse pees in you.
Nietandia is rarely seen in public,without her puffy, terry cloth jacket. She felt it at least, partially hid her disability.
The helmet she was wearing, during the tragic night of the motorcycle crash, may have saved her life, but it did nothing to prevent the guard rail from severing her left arm.
botox & fake cans will get this Ukrainian hott alot of mileage her in the states…. she may even get a recreational vehicle & travel to Montana to raise rabbits
Meanwhile on the set of Ukranian State TV’s late-night adult remake of NBC’s 1979 flop “Supertrain” Dmitri, Sveltyana and Oksana eagerly chug Gatorade and await the Clydesdale’s arrival for their four-way love scene.
Een Soviet Russia trannies pay you for anal secks.
Een Soviet Russia airbags deploy before collision.
Een Soviet Russia breast-feeding never stop.
Een Soveit Russia, boobs fondle you.
Een Soviet Russia ees good thing to be motherfokker.
I wuz in Russia once.
In 1977.
The food sucked and the women all looked like Nikita Krushchev.
To thoughts such as these does my mind wander, ere I exhaust yet another issue of Women’s Tennis Wear Daily…
In Soviet Russia, Douche-Bag you!
…tats all I got…
I just loves me the borscht-fed Eastern European boobalies!
I want to have a three-way with the mother-daughter combo there. Is that wrong? Cause if it is, baby, I don’t wanna be right!
We need to get more comments on this picture to match the amount of abortions these two eastern bloc hoes have had between them. We need at least 12 more comments for the push!
I’d bang mom up the ass and in the ass.
Jake has to get the fake torso mold and faux bling back to the Halloween shop before midnight or he’ll lose his deposit.
if it’s a developing country in Europe, then there are lots of hot chicks.
actually, there are also lots of hot chicks in northern Italy, Prague, Sweden, Norway, and…
okay just what the fuck is wrong with you, Europe?
In America, douchebags come right out to meet you at the airport. In my country, we put douchebags to death. That’s one in the plus column for onetime communist satellite states.
AAAHAHAHAHAHAH Jake.
Even better, his name is Orlando. And although most of the women he runs with are slavs, he’s spanish.
He and I had groupsex with a couple of late-night latinas in the bathroom of the bar he owns, which is behind the starbucks on 12th street in South Beach.
He hires photographers to follow him around and take pictures, either preening while laying on his bar (yes, laying on his bar), or just out at the club as a personal papparazzo.
ahhh, orlando. How I love that you exist, even if I did have to let you in while I was scoring twice over because you had the key and I could tell you to get out. C’est la vie.