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Where you’ve seen her:
We imported this international hottie from Italian Maxim. The interview tape was garbled, but luckily our intern was able to make something out of it, capiche?
Che fortuna! Buon giorno, Eleonora, mangia pasta fasula, no, bambina?
“Si. Prosciutto, gnocchi pomodoro, lasagna. No Atkins. Parmigiano-Reggiano, tortellini.”
Et tu, Brute?
“Parli Italiano, o no? Stupido che cazzo dici?”
Bellisima, mucho caliente. I say, che culo sexy.
“Che dice? Dóve my publicist? Owe, ay-o, mio boyfriend-o Fabio—tipo Zoolander—breaka you face.”
March 2003 (#63) |
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