Laura joined the Jills after a couple of stints in rehab helped her kick a nasty morphine habit. It all started back in high school when the young cheerleader tried to gain favor with the football team by offering her body up for a gangbang. Sadly the petite youngster’s body was overmatched, and she was on the receiving end of the full log-splitter treatment. After a handful of surgeries to repair her pelvis and few months in the hospital she was ready to return home, now equipped with a raging drug addiction, sore labia, and enough self-loathing to make an anorexic chick seem prideful.

After a few years the scars healed and the addiction was downgraded to “recreational habit.” Once Laura joined on with the Jills even the self-loathing began to subside. Now the cheerleader is a productive member of society once again, and she’s looking to improve her self-worth further by bagging a pro football player. But what finely tuned athlete would want any part of those damaged goods? The answer came in the form of a punter, Brian Moorman to be specific. They clicked immediately after meeting at a rally for Ron Paul and things progressed from there. The two are expecting twins this summer and doctors expect them to fly through the birth canal with the ease of two bullets speeding through an empty hallway.

Of course none of this is actually true.

Image via Professional Cheerleader Blog

Jets Flight Crew member Gina, like many of her teammates, is a Long Island native, from West Babylon, N.Y. She graduated from Nassau College with an associates degree in dance and also is licensed as a cosmetologist.

Gina currently works as a hairdresser and also teaches dance.

On a perfect night out, Gina would be “dancing with my loved ones” and “having fun!” She says one of her favorite hobbies is drawing and that “I love any art.”

Gina is very proud of her Italian heritage and lists “putting my shoes on the table” as one of her most unusual superstitions.

NOTE: Holy crap, that’s her ACTUAL biography.

This is Britney, cheerleader for the Bucs. Britney is the coolest cheerleader in the world. In fact, she wears nothing BUT her cheerleading uniform, even while buying groceries. She enjoys snorting cocaine and then riding around on a Waverunner. She will do tequila shots with you until 6AM, and then eat a 96 oz. ribeye for breakfast. She listens to The Sword. She likes football, but has the courtesy to watch it in a another room so you can watch it with your friends. Like 99.99% of the population, she can kick Simmons’ ass in Scrabble.

She speaks 7 different languages and eats raw shellfish at least once a day. She likes firing guns. She likes men with back fat. She can shimmy up a palm tree in 7.8 seconds. She’ll have fresh popovers ready for you in the morning, every morning. She fucking hates Ellen Pompeo. She can quote all of Kinison’s best work, including, “Well, it wouldn’t be like that if someone had a ladder and a pair of pliers!!!” She actually likes her female friends. She threw eggs at NOW protesters from her community college dorm room.

She’s open to threesomes, and to guiding you through the process. Her father invented the cuckoo clock, and thus she is worth billions. Her Dad will take you golfing at Augusta any time you wish. She sleeps in the nude. She’ll teach you how to surf. She likes cars that go really fucking fast. She smokes enough weed to make the Maj look like a goddamn 8th grader. She’s got an oceanside condo with a pool bar and 12-burner gas grill. Her teeth and feet are fucking flawless. She follows her birth control pill schedule with military precision.

She majored in English at UVA. Her favorite book is Catch-22. She’s smart as shit, but she’s not quite as smart as you.

But she smokes. Dealbreaker?

This is Alysha.

Rather than being a cheerleader in high school, Alysha took a lot of dance classes. She aspired to be a ballerina, taking as many as 20 hours a week of dance from age five all the way through high school. As such, her classmates saw her as standoffish and prissy, and she never enjoyed the social life most teenagers enjoy.

Bypassing college to try to “make it” in New York, knee problems and her curvy figure derailed her dreams of being a prima ballerina for American Ballet Theater. That’s when she became a cocktail waitress, let loose, and finally started sucking some cock.

This is Quinn.

As her name implies, she comes from a wealthy New England family. She went to boarding school. She started kissing girls at 11, drinking at 12, and sucking cock at 13.

Seriously, what Alysha knows about sucking cock would be a mere sentence in the encyclopedia of Quinn’s cock-sucking ability.

Big thanks to Maxim for the photo shoot of Pats cheerleaders.

This is Kerey.

She feels as though the Patriots’ success this season is owed in some part to her performance as a cheerleader.

It is not.

As a youth, she had a bit of a rebellious streak. She was almost held back one year of high school for skipping too many days, but fortunately her parents were friends with the principal. She voted for Ralph Nader in the 2000 election, because a communist boyfriend she had at the time told her she should. When he was 17, she brought home a black man she was dating for a major family function.

He was never heard from again.

The cheerleaders at her high school were mostly plain and Kerey looked down upon them. One time, some of her friends kidnapped one of them and let the girl loose in the woods 30 miles out of town. It was a particularly freezing evening and the cheerleader developed severe frost bite. So severe, in fact, that she had to have one of her legs amputated.

Kerey still laughs about it during TV timeouts.

CHEERS to my new recliner, a purchase suggested by my orthopedist. Is it worth two months of horrid sciatica to hear a doctor mandate that you buy a La-Z-Boy? Fuck and yes.

JEERS to no games this week. We’ve gone over this ground already. But seriously, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? Don’t even talk to me about fucking college basketball right now. I can’t even begin to look at that shit until March.

CHEERS to having a Wii in my office this afternoon.

JEERS to Guitar Hero III. The whole reason I don’t play guitar is because I lack coordination. Why have virtual guitaring if it’s just as fucking hard? Double JEERS for not giving me points for taking my cock out during gameplay. YOU. ARE. FAGS.

CHEERS to Leitch for his new book, on sale here. It’s certain to outsell the Gawker Guide To Conquering All Media, which, in an ironic twist, conquered no media of any sort.

JEERS to Heath Ledger’s death. Surely it’s no coincidence that, in his final role, he pretty much looks just like The Crow. And double JEERS to Mary-Kate Olsen for not picking up the goddamn phone. Bitch, you aren’t working. Quit staring at things like a cat and pick it up.

CHEERS to Hillary Clinton for her inevitable win in South Carolina tomorrow. Yes, just like the Democrats to choose a nominee 50% of the nation already can’t fucking stand. Nicely done, retards.

JEERS to me for bring up politics.

CHEERS to eggs. Oh, savory eggs. How I adore your yolky silkiness on a weekend morning. If you’re against abortion, should you eat eggs? I say no.

JEERS to me for bringing up politics again.

CHEERS to these cheerleader gals in bikinis on a Friday afternoon. Everyone in the water! Whee!!!!

JEERS to non-sequiturs.

Three guesses as to who wins, and the first two don’t count.

(Thanks, as usual, to the PCB)

Dulcinea is a 22-year-old cheerleader for the Jacksonville Jaguars. Most of the time she enjoys her avocation, but she could do without the visits to the children’s hospitals. Children’s hospitals give her the blues.

To chase the blues away, Dulcinea invented a brand new game. She has played it many times with her boyfriend and her roommate Tanya. Once when she was bored, she played it with the Fed Ex guy. He told her she should copyright the game and sell it at the Spencer’s at the Orange Park Mall. Dulcinea isn’t too sure about that. She would hate for someone to get the wrong idea about her.

This is Erin.

She likes Indianapolis because it feels so cosmopolitan.

Erin was a Pi Phi at Indiana before finishing her degree in marketing at a smaller college closer to home. This allowed her to spend more time with her high school boyfriend, whom she later learned cheated on her. Her voice trembles when she says that she doesn’t regret her decision to leave IU.

Because she’s the only remotely attractive woman on the Colts cheerleading squad, she tends to act like she’s too good to talk to men who approach her. She never goes home with anyone on the first date, unless he has an expensive car and she happens to drink too much. If that happens, she’s likely to cry after or (more likely) during coitus. If she doesn’t cry after drinking too much and sleeping with someone, there is a one hundred per cent chance she will tell him that she loves him. The next day, she won’t remember the admission, and a week later, she will wonder why he never called her back.

Erin can only have an orgasm through oral sex. Her rare performance of fellatio is marred by apathy and poor technique.

Her father left her mother when Erin was eight.

We didn’t expect yesterday’s post about uber-dipshit Joe Damato (seen above, left, in an artist’s rendition) to go over so well. But, bless your adorable, shrunken hearts, you hated that bastard even more than we did.

That was a pleasant enough surprise, you hating him the way you did. But the blood diamond churned up by that post was the IMDb page of Joe D’Amato, who’s an apostrophe and about 200 pornos away from being our Joe Damato. Please, enjoy this sampling from Mr. D’Amato’s filmography:

Sperma Spende
Anal Perversions of Lolita… aka House of Anal Perversions
Raw and Naked
Sex Penitentiary
Robin Hood: Thief of Wives
120 Days of Anal
Homo Erectus… aka Jurassic Pork
Paprika… aka Anal Paprika… aka The Last Italian Whore
Some Like It Hard
Porno Holocaust
Blue Erotic Climax
Greedy Mouth
Erotic Nights of the Living Dead
The Smoking Cauldron of Virgins
Images in a Convent

Oh sure, laugh about Porno Holocaust. But you have no idea how many millions of sperm died during that genocide.

Speaking of sperm dying, I was looking for photos of NFL cheerleaders in Santa hats when my search was abruptly abandoned at this post at the Pro Cheerleaders Blog:

That’s Robin. This is the PCB on Robin:

Robin is the most senior Charger Girl and though she may be long in the tooth, she still looks hot in the uniform and gives it all when performing. I think if all Charger Girls give that level of performance and commitment, they would have careers as long and illustrious as Robin’s.

Ah, I almost didn’t realize this ancient hag was so close to menopause. I apologize. As recompense, here’s fresh-faced and fresh-everythinged rookie Heather:

Merry Christmas, KSKers. As flubby noted below, things will be a little slower than usual next week, but we’ll still get it up. Posts. Get posts up. On the blog.