First off, let me say this: I am NOT a sexist clod. But I got up Saturday like a kid on Christmas morning. My presents? Thirty-seven bikini-clad women. That’s right: A few Tribune supervisors sat ...
Squeeze. Slather. And rub. Your skin is protected from the harmful rays of the sun, but could you parade around a stage wearing nothing more than a teeny-weeny bikini and a sun-born tan? We’re not mad ...
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