Taking a second to conjure the imagery of my youth, I can wistfully recall an amusing descriptor a lustful young man may use to illustrate the inherent wonders known as the female form. Blessed (or cursed) with the boredom that stems from a comfortable upbringing, the throes of a weekend evening often left my friends and me on the cusp of sure disaster. One particular spring evening, we found ourselves tossing back bottles of Yuengling (no longer a fan) while sitting in the friendly confines of the dugouts at the high school baseball field. Predictably, the quick consumption of a few beers lightened the conversation – leading to talking points that ranged from NBA playoff contenders to the finest piece of ass that roamed the halls of Pascack Hills. Stating his case for one adolescent bombshell, a friend of mine left no room for debate when he added the sentiments expressed by his otherwise mild-mannered father.
“Suzie Sweetthang? She’s built like a brick shithouse!”
At this point, the memory fades to black. But, it’s safe to say we reacted as if Dave Chappelle had just bellowed, “I’m Rick James, bitch!” from the pitcher’s mound. A rare gem merely feet away from a field that far too often harbored nightmares that belied our boyhood dreams.
Life pressed on. My left hand assumed the role of my closest confidant. And the words of a young man recapitulating the most authentic statement a middle aged man could ever utter dissipated into the afterglow.
Meanwhile, a buxom (early candidate for understatement of the year?) young redhead was piecing together a fledgling acting career that would go on to touch greatness…
The selection of Christina Hendricks as the April 2010 Yankette of the Month was a long time coming. Much has been made by readers of this site about the fact that the celebrities we select have little to do with the USMNT or World Cup. While Hendricks’ fandom remains in question, we feel comfortable concluding that a woman who walks around carrying two soccer balls at all times cannot possibly hate the sport.
And from our professional guesstimation, we’re not talking about some size three kindergarten shit either. More like World Cup regulation size. The kind of talent that makes you want to hop on a table at Shabooms and scream, “Welcome to the big show!”
Now we’ve reached the part of the article where esteemed writer Neil W. Blackmon would normally fawn over the Yankette’s career accomplishments. Here’s where I’ll toss you a link to an incredible video of Ms. Hendricks revealing her wares on some horrifically mediocre TV show. Mad Men, this is not, sir.
Filed Under: April 2010
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