November 19, 2014 | celebrity | Lex Jurgen | 0 Comments
Back in the days when you could eat steak rare and colonic with Camel smoke and bang your secretary over a metal desk, men kept pin up calendars on their wall. Now that move will cost you two weeks in a re-education camp beneath Vassar’s rugby field. Pirelli has been publishing a calendar of models since 1964, distributed to product resellers in shops and garages across the western world. Most of those calendars have since been replaced by Federal workplace rules and regulations written in Spanish and Hmong. But so long as photographers are interested in getting good looking models to distant tropical ports for the purposes of mild rape, these calendars will never go away. A couple years ago Pirelli tried turning their calendar into some G-rated artsy shit but several dudes from Big-O tires flew to the Pirelli headquarters and burned the building down. Now tits are back to provide context.
Photo Credit: Pirelli