The girls go wild over sexy firefighters
THE way my girlfriends and I talk about boys would make a grown man blush.
Yep. We are giant perves.
Blokes cop it for ogling. Well, you know what I reckon?
Us ladies are much worse.
Ply us with champers and shove us in a room with eight sexy firies and you'll see.
Girls. Gone. Wild.
I reported on the firefighters' calendar launch at the Central Lane Hotel on Saturday night.
Tough gig, right?
The firies were introduced one by one.
They came out in their suits first. And kept them on, to the disappointment of some ladies.
"He left his pants on!" one yelled, feeling ripped off.
The girls got antsy in the intermission.
When calendar co-ordinator Bruce Mitchell hopped on stage he was practically booed off.
"Where are the naked men?" a lady heckled.
Don't worry, Bruce. The Observer girls love you.
Bruce is a mature, silver fox who posed in the '95 and '96 calendars. And he's definitely still got it.
But the gals were after fresh meat. They were hungry for it.
The boys never stood a chance. When they filed out in their uniforms the crowd went nuts.
It was contagious. Sober as a judge, even I started screaming for skin.
"Do you do squats?" a chick in the front row asked one firie. All the while giving his tush a generous squeeze.
Another girl copped a feel of Mr December's chest.
"He's oiled up to the tee - shiny, smooth and oiled," she shared afterwards.
A friend of mine woke up with a nice little reminder from the evening.
It's a love heart drawn in black texta ... on her cleavage. And they say blokes are bad!