If there actually were a Boobsville, say in one of California’s many lovely unincorporated areas – along faultlines, devoid of city services, where people eat chips all day – would local officials give visiting dignitaries a Key to the Titty?
GET IT??! A key to the ~ ? I should write for Playboy’s Unabashed Dictionary. And live in the redwood glade behind the Mansion.
Anyway, none of my shots from the set of this movie came out well. All were blurred due to director Jim Malibu’s insistence that each of the women oil her breasts and jump up and down.
Oil her breasts and jump up and down.
Oil her breasts and jump up and down.
Ah. Here’s the ambulance now.
I’m a big fan of Jada Fire’s breasts, as are you, and America. They are uniformly full. Some large breasts, when dangling, appear droplet-shaped. This makes me worry that they will come off in my hands like water from a leaky faucet. Not Jada Fire’s breasts. They’re staying right. where. they. are.
The DVD splash screen gives precise directions to Boobsville. All you do is take route 69.
GET IT??!
(Hardly worth mentioning, but there are no 69s in the movie, but uttering the number 69 has become shorthand for all manner of pornish wackiness.)
Previously on Porn Valley Observed: Hirsch’s Heavies heave haunches heavenward; Nailin’ Palin for America; Today’s kung fu grip
See also: Adam & Eve
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