Nature calls in San Francisco
Man and "girlfriend" in Paris
The world is your crapper, Madrid
Hurling up warm beer in England
If you’re going to do something illegal, embarrassing or dorky make sure that little unmarked truck with all the cameras on its roof isn’t slowly driving by. You might be sorry. Forever.
As fall bears its cold and wind and leaf raking duties upon us, we at STBY wanted to remind you of one thing: summer has its downside too.
"Ouch"
"Ooooh"
"F$#%!*K!!"
You know, after all the uncharacteristic morbidity at STBY over the last two days, we thought we’d add a little levity to our Saturday edition. But, to be honest, there is nothing funny about this picture. In fact, it’s pencil-in-the-eye, find-me-the-highest-bridge depressing.
This is a photo of Virgin Airlines bossman, Richard Branson. That bling around his neck? That would be his naked nymphomaniac model girlfriend Denni Parkinson. Need a moment to compose yourself, guys? We’ll wait.
OK… back?
Like we were saying, it’s not enough that Sir Richard can rub his billions of dollars or his knighthood or his private Caribbean island in our face, now he’s got to show off like this?
I don’t know about you, but I’m never buying a seat on a Virgin Airlines flight again. Not unless Denni is serving me complementary pretzels in the outfit she’s wearing in this photo. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life in the middle seat next to a sweaty fat French woman and some airsick blue hair. I am not paying for Richard’s wetsuit and his girlfriend’s…uh…sunscreen.
Yeah, it sucks to be the rest of us, what with our mortgages and minivans and to-do lists. But you know, we’re in control guys. Yes, control. Just keep reminding yourselves of that.
Thanks to David C. for the submission.
"Oh, baby, I want you so bad."
If I were richer than God, built like Hercules and on the fast-track to Cooperstown, I’d probably think I was hot shit, too. Although I certainly wouldn’t find myself this irresistible.
As the pictures tell, Alex Rodriguez has fallen out of love with Madonna—and Derek Jeter, for that matter—and in love with his soulmate, Alex Rodriguez. But these risque shots, taken for the April issue of Details, raise a whole new set of questions.
Are the rumors about Alex switching teams true?
Have the steroids shrunk Alex’s wanker into a clitoris?
Has Alex been kidnapped and thrown in an underground prison where he’s forced to take humiliating pictures by a photographer with a fetish for refurbished mattresses?
Who the fuck is Alex’s agent?
All we know is that it sucks to be Alex Rodriguez. Because even with all the money in the world, Alex Rodriguez has no one else to suck face with.
