JLo has spent the last two years trying to sit her 12-layer ass on a private tape she made with her first husband Ojani Noa during their honeymoon and a judge ruled last week that she has no case. This ruling opened the door to the ho stroll and now Ojani Noa can peddle that shit on the auction block. Ojani originally spouted some complete crap about how he wanted to use the footage in a mockumentary on his life, but now he’s wiped the bullshit from the inside of his mouth and making it clear that he’s selling the tape for a quick check. Ojani’s financial situation is about as thirstay as Skeletor’s bones, so what’s a shameless douche bubble who doesn’t want to get a job to do?!
NowPublic says that several porn websites have held up their paddle in a bid to win the tape and the bidding war is currently at $40,000. The reason why there aren’t more zeroes in that number is because this tape stars JLo and the year is 2011, not 2001. The tape also doesn’t have any traces of sex shit and she barely flashes her nalgas. If you shoved your face in a platter full of Hawaiian bread, you’d probably get a stronger tingle than you would from watching JLo’s non-sex tape. Hell, just thinking about shoving my face in a platter full of Hawaiian bread is making my wet parts coo. And just thinking about JLo’s non sex-tape is making my wet parts want to do something that rhymes with coo.
My question is, why doesn’t JLo just pay Ojani off? The jar of whipped dolphin ovaries she smears on her body every day costs more than $40,000, so it’s not like she doesn’t have the money. Maybe she has and Ojani turned her down, because he’s hoping that a big Hollywood movie director will see the tape and cast him as a grown Chaka in the next Land of the Lost movie. I don’t know. But I do know that 1997 was a wonderful year for lard-based hair gel, but an awful year for eyebrows.