When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. This week it's the Dallas Mavericks’ play-by-play announcer, Mark Followill.
NOTE: This love letter may be a bit too localized for some readers. And we know what happens if Red and I get too localized… But fuck it, I write the love letter; I pick who receives it. And you like it.
Dear Mark,
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
NOTE: This love letter may be a bit too localized for some readers. And we know what happens if Red and I get too localized… But fuck it, I write the love letter; I pick who receives it. And you like it.
Dear Mark,
Your myspace says you were born to talk about sports. Well Mark, I was born to listen to you.
I could listen to that voice of yours read the back of a box of cake mix and be riveted. From your hilarious one liners, “Tips it in the basket with a velvet touch!” “There’s the shot, oooh! Silky smooth!”, to your perfect use of adjectives and verbs, no one does it quite like you do.
I could say something perverted and gross hot, but my feelings for you are too pure. You might even compare them to my feelings for Dirk. (Who, for those of you keeping score at home has been knocked down in the "Rankings of my Heart" to #2. After that Warriors series Matt Damon was able to come in with the steal for #1.)
So instead of my hilarious double entendres, I offer you this song that expresses what I feel:
Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as good as you
Baby, you're the best
I wasn't looking but somehow you found me
I tried to hide from your love light
But like heaven above, me the play-by-play announcer who loved me
Is keepin' all my secrets safe tonight
If only you could hear my Carly Simon impression live. It’s amazing. I’m almost sure you would fall in love with me if you heard it. If not, I would offer you Chipotle and then I’m sure the deal would be sealed.
I bet you do play-by-play when you’re in bed, don’t you? HOT. Some girls like it when you talk dirty to them, I like it when you talk stats to me. Nothing turns me on more than knowing exactly how many points in the paint the Mavs have made. I’m getting excited just thinking about it…I think I need to be alone.
I’m only a stones throw away from you, whenever you need a little bit of Girls Gone Sports loving…just let me know...just thought I'd throw that out there...
xoxo
Lauren
So instead of my hilarious double entendres, I offer you this song that expresses what I feel:
Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as good as you
Baby, you're the best
I wasn't looking but somehow you found me
I tried to hide from your love light
But like heaven above, me the play-by-play announcer who loved me
Is keepin' all my secrets safe tonight
If only you could hear my Carly Simon impression live. It’s amazing. I’m almost sure you would fall in love with me if you heard it. If not, I would offer you Chipotle and then I’m sure the deal would be sealed.
I bet you do play-by-play when you’re in bed, don’t you? HOT. Some girls like it when you talk dirty to them, I like it when you talk stats to me. Nothing turns me on more than knowing exactly how many points in the paint the Mavs have made. I’m getting excited just thinking about it…I think I need to be alone.
I’m only a stones throw away from you, whenever you need a little bit of Girls Gone Sports loving…just let me know...just thought I'd throw that out there...
xoxo
Lauren
Labels: lauren has a crush on the most random men, love letters, mark followill, mavs
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. This week it's the only member of AC Milan that scored yesterday, Filippo Inzaghi.
Dear Pippo,
So you scored twice yesterday...wanna score twice again today? How 'bout four times? I'm good to go.
So...you're a striker? That's funny, we have so much in common! I'm a screamer!
On your knees, huh? Man, we DO have a lot in common...
Love,
Lauren
xoxo
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
Dear Pippo,
So you scored twice yesterday...wanna score twice again today? How 'bout four times? I'm good to go.
So...you're a striker? That's funny, we have so much in common! I'm a screamer!
On your knees, huh? Man, we DO have a lot in common...
Love,
Lauren
xoxo
Labels: love letters
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. This week it's our favorite teenage hockey star, Sidney Crosby.
Dear Sidney,
When you were first drafted it would have been illegal for us (in most states) to have the impure thoughts we have when we dream about you. But now, it's completely fine in the eyes of the law.
Now don't be scared. Mandy and I are just here to teach you the ways of the world. You need experienced women to take care of you. Not only can we show you a thing or two (or 20 or 60) in the bedroom, we can also buy you beer.
I bet you're nervous. It's ok. We're a little nervous too. Just come sit down by us and we'll sing you a little song...
Come to my place
We can talk it over
Oh everything going down in your head
He said take it easy
I need some time
Time to work it out
To make you mine
And just when I thought
He was comin' to my door
He whispered sweet
And brought me to the floor (He said)
I'm only nineteen
You ain't seen love
Ain't seen nothing like me
He's only nineteen
Nineteen Feel better? Yeah, Winger does that to us too. Now just lay back, and let us take care of you.
Love,
xoxo
Lauren Polanski and Mandy Lee Lewis
[creepy song lyrics provided by Winger]
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
Dear Sidney,
When you were first drafted it would have been illegal for us (in most states) to have the impure thoughts we have when we dream about you. But now, it's completely fine in the eyes of the law.
Now don't be scared. Mandy and I are just here to teach you the ways of the world. You need experienced women to take care of you. Not only can we show you a thing or two (or 20 or 60) in the bedroom, we can also buy you beer.
I bet you're nervous. It's ok. We're a little nervous too. Just come sit down by us and we'll sing you a little song...
We can talk it over
Oh everything going down in your head
He said take it easy
I need some time
Time to work it out
To make you mine
And just when I thought
He was comin' to my door
He whispered sweet
And brought me to the floor (He said)
I'm only nineteen
You ain't seen love
Ain't seen nothing like me
He's only nineteen
Nineteen
Love,
xoxo
Lauren Polanski and Mandy Lee Lewis
[creepy song lyrics provided by Winger]
Labels: love letters, sidney crosby
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters.
OK, so I was just scrolling through our site and between Paul Casey, David Beckham, shirtless A-Rod, and Rafael Nadal the main page is getting mighty sexy. Too sexy I'm afraid. In order to avert an Eagles of Death Metal-esque "Death by Sexy" situation, I'm going to have to temper all of these sexy posts with one giant dose of fug.
So this week's Girls Gone Sports love letter goes out to Sam Cassell. Sorry to disappoint, but there will be no disturbing sexual innuendo in this love letter my friends.
Dear Sam,
Despite whatever Lauren may have to say about my love for Chris Kaman you are the reason that I watch the L.A. Clippers (my 2nd favorite NBA team). I'm able to overlook your close resemblance to a creature from outer space because you're just so awesome. Maybe it's your game or maybe it's the way you beat up male strippers that makes me love you so much. It's hard to say. But I've been a fan of yours since you were a two time World Champ with the Houston Rockets, as evidenced by this highly embarrassing photo of me at age 11 lookingreally cute rather butch wearing your jersey next to the "Star of the Week" board in school.
[Editor's note: As you can see, my sexy didn't mature until a much later age. It's amazing what 12 years will do for you. And if I look kinda fat in this picture it's because that jersey was the size of a dress.]
As someone who talks a fair amount of shit herself, I have to look up to a guy who's so dedicated to shit-talking his opponents that he manages to get a costly 8-second violation in a crucial playoff game.
Sam, you're the heart and soul of the Clippers and since you've sat out so many games to injuries this season they've really sucked it up. But you're apparently feeling a little better since you played the other nite and you guys have still got a chance to get that 8th seed, so please, I beg of you, bring your A-game to these last few games, knock the Warriors out and let me have that Mavs-Clippers playoff series that I wanted so bad last year.
Love,
Mandy
Now so I don't completely deprive you of the sexy, here'sme my boobs and my autographed Sam Cassell photo and a video of Cassell "bringing sexy back." You know you want it:
[Editor's note: I've willfully obscured his face with the flash so you can concentrate on the titties.]
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
OK, so I was just scrolling through our site and between Paul Casey, David Beckham, shirtless A-Rod, and Rafael Nadal the main page is getting mighty sexy. Too sexy I'm afraid. In order to avert an Eagles of Death Metal-esque "Death by Sexy" situation, I'm going to have to temper all of these sexy posts with one giant dose of fug.
So this week's Girls Gone Sports love letter goes out to Sam Cassell. Sorry to disappoint, but there will be no disturbing sexual innuendo in this love letter my friends.
Dear Sam,
Despite whatever Lauren may have to say about my love for Chris Kaman you are the reason that I watch the L.A. Clippers (my 2nd favorite NBA team). I'm able to overlook your close resemblance to a creature from outer space because you're just so awesome. Maybe it's your game or maybe it's the way you beat up male strippers that makes me love you so much. It's hard to say. But I've been a fan of yours since you were a two time World Champ with the Houston Rockets, as evidenced by this highly embarrassing photo of me at age 11 looking
[Editor's note: As you can see, my sexy didn't mature until a much later age. It's amazing what 12 years will do for you. And if I look kinda fat in this picture it's because that jersey was the size of a dress.]As someone who talks a fair amount of shit herself, I have to look up to a guy who's so dedicated to shit-talking his opponents that he manages to get a costly 8-second violation in a crucial playoff game.
Sam, you're the heart and soul of the Clippers and since you've sat out so many games to injuries this season they've really sucked it up. But you're apparently feeling a little better since you played the other nite and you guys have still got a chance to get that 8th seed, so please, I beg of you, bring your A-game to these last few games, knock the Warriors out and let me have that Mavs-Clippers playoff series that I wanted so bad last year.
Love,
Mandy
Now so I don't completely deprive you of the sexy, here's
[Editor's note: I've willfully obscured his face with the flash so you can concentrate on the titties.]Labels: love letters, sam cassell
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. This week it's our favorite billionaire, Mark Cuban.
Dearest Mark,
You have a lot of money and Mandy and I have large breasts. And lets face it, there is nothing a rich dude like yourself wants more than a trophy wife. So how about a pair of trophy wives? Eh? Eh?
We both wouldn't mind living in your huge mansion and you could fulfill my dream of having a helipad and a helicopter to fly around in.
And besides your billions, you've gotten kinda buff and added some facial hair (which always makes guys sexier). We find that, along with your money, hot. Plus, if we're married to you we could go to every Mavs game. Score!
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
Dearest Mark,
You have a lot of money and Mandy and I have large breasts. And lets face it, there is nothing a rich dude like yourself wants more than a trophy wife. So how about a pair of trophy wives? Eh? Eh?
We both wouldn't mind living in your huge mansion and you could fulfill my dream of having a helipad and a helicopter to fly around in.
And besides your billions, you've gotten kinda buff and added some facial hair (which always makes guys sexier). We find that, along with your money, hot. Plus, if we're married to you we could go to every Mavs game. Score!
We also like the fact that we can do our best Bunny Lebowski and offer to suck your cock for $1000 and instead of you needing to find an ATM, you just pull it out of your wallet. That is what we call a turn on.
My mom once told me that if you can't find true love, settle for lots of money. For you Mark, Mandy and I would both be willing to settle. Especially if you bought us matching private jets.
Love,
Lauren and Mandy xoxo
Labels: love letters, mark cuban, money money
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. This week it's our favorite hot relief pitcher from our Texas Rangers: CJ Wilson
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
Dearest CJ...
If there was one man in all of
We could use a pitching lesson. You bring the bat and balls, we'll bring the glove. The love glove.
We have a lot of things in common:
-You have a 4.06 ERA. We have great DSL.
-You play for the Rangers. We watch the Rangers.
-You are from Newport Beach, CA. My grandma smokes Newports.
-You have 3 first names (Christopher John Wilson). We have three things we could do to you that would make you forget all of your names.
-You love Guitar Hero, tattoos, and Animal Planet. We love Guitar Hero, tattoos on you, and Animal Planet. (No joke here)
-You bat left and throw left. We're ambidextrous. Think about the possibilities.
We're willing to look past the fact that you are Straight Edge if you are willing to look past the fact that we are okay with sex in public places. We can also look past the fact that because you are Straight Edge you don't drink, if you can look past the fact that we drink enough to make David Wells look Straight Edge.
So bring your live fastball and hard sinker over to our place, CJ. I'm sure we'll be able to help you sink your hard bat and we'll be sure to mind the fastballs, too.
Love,
Lauren and Mandy xoxo
(Info on this weeks object of our desire was found here)
Labels: ball games of all kinds, love letters, masturbate and cry, mlb, tap dancing on that line between flattery and insanity, texas rangers
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of porn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we (like most girls) dream of that perfect guy out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet...okay, that's a lie. Lemme try this again...
When we aren't busy watching countless hours ofporn sports and drinking amazing amounts of beer, we dream of those perfect guys out there just waiting to have amazing sex with us. There. That's more like it. So in the hopes of reeling in one of these fine specimens that we wanna lay we're sending them love letters. We start out with our mutual crush: Matt Ufford of With Leather.
When we aren't busy watching countless hours of
Our dearest Matt,
It's hard to put into words just what we feel for you...you are a rare gem in this world full of...um...world full of...ah fuck it.
Look we're just gonna put this out there.
If you like it you can take it, if you don't, send it right back:
We want you to be on us. Yes, US.
We can bend in ways you can’t imagine. You know Cirque du Soleil? We make them look like amateurs when it comes to contortion.
You know that one scene from Wild Things? With the two girls? And the Matt Dillon? Yeah, this will be like 294891324.353 times hotter.
I don't know if it's your wit, your being a former marine, or your being hot…(but it's probably your being hot) that make us want to make sweet-hot-passionate-long lasting-great tasting-sweaty-crazy-illegal-in-48-out-of-50-states sexy time with you.
I could go into all the reasons why this would be amazing for you. But I won't waste your time. Just look at this equation:
So bring your paleness on over and meet our paleness. Because I know we may never be able to dethrone ScarJo in your heart or your rankings...but at least for one moment...we would like to think that both of us combined could get rid of that one note actress with the great rack. Because hey, two great racks are better than one.
<
What's that Scarlett? Oh yeah. You just got out Whataburgered.
With all the love that we posses,
Lauren and Mandy xoxo
(and don't worry there will be more love letters! it's not just him that we want to sleep with!)
Labels: love letters, no sports no shirts no problem, tap dancing on that line between flattery and insanity
