Khloe Kardashian as ‘Officer Sasquatch’ (With guest star Kim Kardashian)

November 1st, 2008 // 40 Comments

CROOK: I ain’t talkin’.
COP #1: Oh, you’ll talk. You’re going under the lamp with Officer Sasquatch.
CROOK: Yeah? He don’t sound so tough.
COP #1: First off, it’s a “she,” and Officer Sasquatch will rip your arms right off if you don’t sing like a canary. She’s a cop who doesn’t play by the rules. A loose cannon. But, dammit, she gets the job -
COP #2: Sir, Officer Sasquatch isn’t here.
COP #1: Where is she?
COP #2: Broke into another butcher shop.
COP #1: Oh, Sassy. Always thinkin’ with your stomach.
EVERYONE: A HA HA HA!
CROOK: Did you say rip my arms off?

NOTE: Added pics of “Flapper Kim” with Khloe at the Pur Halloween bash. It’s the one day out of the year Kim can wear a girdle without criticism – until it snaps and kills an innocent bystander. True story.

Photos: Splash News
superficial

  1. Mr.Peanut

    Not the way I wanted to start my weekend.

    FIRST BITCHES!!

  2. Tom

    Khloe isn’t *that* big, Kim is just very short and very small-boned, so she looks huge next to her. I’m not say Khloe couldn’t lose some weight, but she’s not obese or anything.

  3. joine

    She is so beautiful and charming. She is my favorite. Just saw her on the fitness & celebrity dating club ^^^^^^FitnessKiss. C O M^^ ^^^^last week. I am wondering what kind of relationship she is looking for on that

    site.Is she single now?

  4. superflous

    Wow, that Kloe bitch lost tons of weight, good for her. Too bad her face is beyond creepy.

  5. Mr. Sleepyhead

    One phrase summarizes my thoughts: butt fuckin ugly

  6. dave

    Like I’ve always said “Sometimes you want a 90 lbs girl in bed that you can quickly move to any position but sometimes you want a girl you can wrestle with.”

    I’d be all over Officer Sasqatch. She looks damn hot.

  7. kitty_kat

    Okay, Fish. She could lose a couple of pounds, but its pretty ridiculous calling her a Sasquatch. So I agree with #2.

  8. Couldnt agree more dave #6, Id beat that booty like a cop worse than rodney king

  9. superfish’s sasquacth interogation=very funny

  10. dodo

    that black guy is looking happy as hell. he knows that he’s going to get drunk, come home and piss on kim’s face

  11. Dodgy Pete

    #6 is right – sometimes you just want a girl to clothesline you before putting you into a headlock and smashing your face into the wall.

  12. Thigh Highs

    Khloe has a really big head. Or something.

  13. The Beer Baron

    Did someone forget to tell Reggie Bush that it was a Halloween Party? Or do black guys just don’t play dress up?

  14. kip

    Nasty, crusty, no-talent, lard ass, flapjack ass, two-bit whores can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t act but they expect something for nothing.

    What the fuck is it they do to be referred to as celebrities and stars??? Let scuzzy rappers urinate on them??? Stars because they spend their dead daddys earnings???

    Fucking sleazy whores!

  15. Reggie likes 'em SLEAZY!!!

    Reggie sure is talented at football, but he’s kinda flaky when it comes to choosing women. Well, except for gold diggers. She’ll run out of her inheritance one of these days.

  16. Joe Cat

    That thing should be euthanized

  17. Parker

    As I’ve said, I’ve given it some serious thought and do believe it’s physically possible to buttfuck Kim Kardashian. First she’d have to bend over a heavy sofa or table, then grasp the panties on the left side and draw them down as far as possible taking care not to get your hand caught between the skin and elastic. Next, walk around to her right side and repeat the same action, drawing the panties down as far as possible. Now repeat this process until one ass cheek is fully exposed. Before exposing the other side, take your duct tape, stick the leading edge to a long handled, flat bladed instrument such as a fly swatter. Press this as far into the exposed crack as possible and using a jerking motion, affix the tape to the inside face of the exposed ass cheek. Now PULL. Draw the cheek open. Don’t worry, she won’t even feel it. Just pull for your life and when you get this side open, throw a couple wraps around her leg (you may need an assistant.) Once you’ve got one side open the next is a little easier. Lower the panties on the other side to expose the other cheek and repeat the procedure. When you’re done, take a step back to admire your handiwork. You should be able to see her asshole in there somewhere now. Tell Kim she’s hot but try not to laugh. This will calm her down. If she gets agitated it’s possible one of her ass cheeks could flinch and break the leg it’s attached to. When you’re sure she’s calm, pour a liberal amount of KY down the valley between her cheeks and wait for it to soak in. This will take less than five minutes. Finally you want to liberally smear your cock with a long-acting lubricant such as that engine oil with the teflon beads in it. That stuff will ruin your engine but it’s just the right thing for buttfucking Kim. Don’t spare the stuff either. Pour some into her crack too. Then just step in behind her and shove your cock in her ass. Due to the depths involved you will not be able to get the entire shaft inside but you should be able to penetrate far enough to enjoy yourself. Encourage her not to talk by telling her you’ve got a few old birthday cakes in the kitchen and don’t know what to do with them. This will get her drooling and her mouth will get too wet to speak. After you blow your load in her ass, make sure to remove your cock slowy. Exiting too rapidly after long exposure to such crushing depths can create nitrogen bubbles in your blood that can cause crippling pain and even death. After you’re done and before you leave you should release her asscheeks. The process is slightly dangerous though so take care and do it right. Standing well to one side and at arms length, use a sharp knife to cut the duct tape at the point where it approaches the hip. You will not have to make the entire cut. Eventually the cut you make will shred apart and the tape will let go with a furious snap. Watch out for the live end of it or you’ll be going home with a good bruise. Wait till the first cheek stops moving before walking around to the other side. Now you want to cut this side the same way you did the other but be ready to clap your hands over your ears. What’s going to happen is once released this cheek is going to slap into the other and create a pressure wave capable of rupturing your eardrums. After both cheeks are free so are you. Congratulations, you fucked Kim Kardashian in the ass and lived to tell the tale!

  18. WHO IS *LIMERICK MAN*??

    There once was a “starlet” named Kim
    With a backside the size of Berlin
    She danced with such sass
    But got a boot in her ass
    From a foot never heard from again

  19. BM

    kim is a flapper? lmao.. flappers were super skinny back then. wrong costume choice.

  20. rayne

    Khloe is my favorite also bc she doesn’t try so hard like stupid Kim. Kim needs attention cause she is very insecure. Trust me I grew up with the fool… and all she does is gets tons of makeup put on her every single day.

  21. Jamie's Uterus

    Right on #14!

    Kim should of dressed up like a cow, would of been an easy costume. Khloe is a sorry excuse for a human being.

    They are both a disgrace to women, their family, country and ancestry.

  22. lena

    If Kim is a celebrity then so am I bc I live in Beverly Hills and have just as much money as she claims to. The girl is not a celeb shes a wannabe….. Pray for her Please.

  23. ucf

    Poor Reggie Bush Kim is going to take all of his money bc he is still wet behind the ears. I see why Reggie’s mom don’t like her bc she’s already worn out.

  24. missy

    hated them!

    khloe is fucking huge she should only come out with a bag over her head.

    yes they both should out bags on their heads plastic bags they cant get off.

    lol #17

  25. mmm

    how long does it take to do that much whore makeup anyway?

  26. samantha

    Well Kim doesn’t know any better she thinks she can make it through life by just posing for Playboy and taking Very Sexy photos. The girl has no substance and no education. At least Kourtney went to school and Khloe doesn’t crave attenion.

  27. Michelle

    Reggie Bush is so fucking hot… my GOD… the THINGS I would do to that man! And the things I wish he would do to ME!!…. aahhhh so fuckin sexy…

  28. humpin frog

    I’m not sure what’s going on in pic #5. Is she demonstrating the tight lineman ass I can watch this Sunday? Because, quite frankly, once you’ve seen one fifty pound, flabby ass, you’ve seen them all.

  29. This family takes pride in looking like whores.

  30. Long Winded

    Well, dear readers, it is that time of year. What time of year, you ask, and I will tell you. Allergy season, that’s what time of year it is, and here I sit (like so much fish), throat scratchy, eyes red and puffy, and the sneezes coming a mile a minute. Now, I don’t know about you, but I really don’t understand the very concept of sneezing. Who invented it? Just think about what is involved in a sneeze. First you get a tickling sensation in your nose. This causes a chain reaction, which then causes you to wind up and let loose with something that is really indescribable when you think about it. Not only does one look extremely stupid while the actual sneeze is occurring, but then there’s the aftermath. Now, some people (like me) are dry sneezers. With me it’s just a lot of sound and fury signifying a sneeze. You can hear me sneezing from three blocks away. Fine. But there is a contingent of sneezers who are moist sneezers. I’m trying to be polite here, but you simply do not want to be around such sneezers, because they let loose with a horrible spray which is quite disgusting. Not as disgusting as the last breed of sneezers, the mucous makers. These are the people who sneeze and in the aftermath have the hanging mucous dripping from their nostrils, which causes them to briefly (or not so briefly, depending on how near a Kleenex is) look like an alien life form. Have we hit a new low here? Certainly we have hit on three words that are among the most inane in the English language. “Mucous”. That would be one of them. It’s not just how incredibly stupid that word looks, it’s the pronunciation. I mean if it were pronounced “muck-us” that wouldn’t be so bad. But “mewwwckus”? It’s just too too gross sounding. Which, I suppose, is appropriate. And then there’s kleenex. I guess maybe that’s a brand name and should be Kleenex, but it’s become a part of the language. What is a Kleenex? A soft small piece of tissue paper. Which, I may add, is hardly ever up to the task of dealing with the mewwwwckus. Anyway, from this soft, small piece of tissue paper, someone came up with the name “Kleenex”. And they are rich from this. But I’ve saved the best for last, and that, of course, is the word “sneeze” itself. Just imagine. We’re back in time somewhere. It’s the beginning of Man. Two people are sitting around and one of them let’s forth with this huge eruption of snot and sound. And the other person looks at him and says, “Whoa. What was that? I’ve never heard anything like that before. I’ve got to come up with a name for that. I know, I’ll call it a sneeze”. I mean, this word just baffles me, do you hear? And speaking of baffled, if sneeze is spelled “sneeze”, why isn’t please spelled “pleeze”? One thing I know for sure. This is the longest paragraph ever written.

    Now, aren’t you glad we are through with my dissertation on the sneeze? I must be honest with you, dear readers, and tell you that while I was writing that endless paragraph I sneezed about forty times. I simply can’t imagine what my neighbors must think is going on in my house. I have taken my Actifed and hopefully it will kick in soon. Actifed is the only over-the-counter pill that works for me. I took Sudafed but frankly it didn’t hold a candle to Actifed. And why would it? Why would the Sudafed hold a candle to the Actifed? Jealousy? Does the Sudafed have tendencies to pyromania? What did the Actifed ever do to the Sudafed? What the hell am I talking about? Excuse me. (Insert loud sneeze here.)

    I had to start a new paragraph because frankly the paragraph above was going nowhere fast and in any case, I sneezed. Perhaps, I’ll just start a new paragraph every time I sneeze. (Loud sneeze here.)

    Bless me. At this rate, this column will have more paragraphs than you can shake a stick at. (Loud sneeze here.)

    This sneezing simply will not stop. But, you know what the real problem is? I normally write this column with absolute silence in the house. Just me (sitting on the couch like so much fish) and the occasional show tune from the bird outside (just this morning we had a lovely rendition of “Dance: 10 Looks: 3). But today I have music on while I’m writing said column. Having music on colors everything. For example, right now the stereo is blasting the Bernard Herrmann score to Journey To The Center Of The Earth. And isn’t that exactly where this column has sunk to? The very bowels of the earth? As those Herrmannesque chords descend lower and lower, so this column descends lower and lower. Perhaps if I change the music we can do something about this sinking column.

    There. We have put on some pastoral Vaughan Williams music. You see how the whole tenor of this column has changed? Not only the tenor, but the soprano and the alto too. Why should the tenor be the only one to change? Ah, when I hear this music it is like a beautiful spring morning on the mews. I don’t know what the mews are, but nevertheless (“nevertheless” – a three-for-the-price-of-one word) that is what it is like. And you know what happens to me on a beautiful spring morning? I start sneezing that’s what happens to me. Because I am allergic to beautiful spring mornings. I hate that guy Vaughan Williams, who does he think he is conjuring up a beautiful spring morning? I’m agitated now. I better put on the score to Psycho. (Loud sneeze here.)

    There. No music. Blessed silence. Just me and the bird (who is now singing “Besame Mucho” in perfect Spanish!). Now we can get this column back on track. There has been entirely too much mewwwwckous in this column. And unlike High Society, my Actifed has actually started to work. But enough about me.

    Anyone Can Whistle

    While I was born during the time of Ben-Hur, I did not see Anyone Can Whistle in its short-lived Broadway engagement. Very few people saw it, as a matter of fact, as it closed after but a few performances. However, that wonderful record producer and friend of the musical theater, Mr. Goddard Lieberson, was good enough, and prescient enough to record the show for posterity.

    I bought the cast album the day it came out. I happened to be in my favorite record store, Chesterfield Records in Beverly Hills and when I saw that cover I simply had to have it. It looked interesting, it looked weird and it looked fun. The fact is, I was rarely disappointed whenever I bought a cast album that was on Columbia Records. After all, Columbia Records was brave enough to not only give us the hits, like My Fair Lady, West Side Story, Bye Bye Birdie, and Gypsy, but also big beautiful flops like Subways Are For Sleeping (a great score), Mr. President, Bajour, Kean and others. I’ll say it here and now: I loved Columbia Records and Goddard Lieberson. Of course, I’d seen the name Stephen Sondheim before (he was not as yet my close personal friend), as a lyricist on West Side Story and Gypsy, and as a composer/lyricist on Forum, and I loved his work, and that, too, was reason enough to buy the album. So, I took said album home, opened it up, plopped the record on my Stereophonic Record Player, turned up the sound nice and loud so as to torment everyone in my house, and sat and listened to Anyone Can Whistle for the first time.

    From the first notes of the Overture I knew I would fall in love with it. It was so strange and wonderful sounding. Then on came Angela Lansbury (as Mayoress Cora Hoover Hooper) and her boys to sing Me and My Town. Well, it was so wildly surreal that I could not move, I just sat there transfixed. Occasionally I would glance at the fold-open album jacket to look at the pictures and try to follow the plot, but mostly I just stared at the record player as if doing so would somehow connect me closer to the music that was issuing forth. Then came The Miracle Song and that was it. I knew I was in the presence of greatness. As soon as it finished, I whipped the needle back (carefully of course) and listened to the song again. It was just so damned infectious and its rhythm was so damned beguiling. When it was over, the second time, I played it again. Probably ten times in a row. I was already staging the number in my mind, and in those days I was given to doing room recitals (just for myself), so I’d get up and start dancing around my room like a maniac. Wow! And when I got to Simple, well, the world changed. My idea of what musicals were forever altered with that single number. It was and is one of the most brilliant showpieces ever written. It was blisteringly funny, it was shocking, it was endlessly clever, and it just put me away. When it was over (it’s a long number) I just sat there, numb. The rest of the score was equally as brilliant. Especially the title song, which remains one of Sondheim’s simplest and most beautiful. I have to also give special Real A kudos to A Parade In Town (another number I had to stage for my room recital) and Take One Step (And See What It Gets You). The final song could not have been more wonderful (With So Little To Be Sure Of) even with Harry Guardino’s gruff voice. I wanted to see this show! I wanted to know everything about it! But it had already closed. Amazingly, though, the script was published (those were the days) so I read it, and conjured up what it must have looked like by looking at the pictures and reading and singing the show out loud. Let’s just say this: While I loved other musicals, I empathized with this one. It got under my skin. I understood it. Years later I would become friendly with Arnold Soboloff who played Treasurer Cooly, and he regaled me with stories of the experiences he had doing the show.

    That cast album has remained one of my favorites for all these years. It’s as fresh today as it was back then. I know there is a lot of discussion about which album is the better one to have, the original cast or the concert version. Well, let me just be Real opinionated for a moment, and say that the concert version is one of the worst albums I’ve ever heard. It is so badly produced, the sound is so awful, and the performances so uneven, that I feel it’s practically worthless. There’s not a moment on the album that isn’t done better on the original. Even the cut song There’s Always A Woman is done better elsewhere. No, if you want Anyone Can Whistle you must have the Original Broadway Cast Album. This score was truly the beginning of my love affair with the music of my close personal friend Mr. Stephen Sondheim. And while he has written many brilliant scores since, this one still gets to me every time. In fact, I think I’ll go put it on right now. Maybe I’ll even try to recreate my room recital staging. (Loud sneeze here.)

    My Favorite Things

    One thing that is not one of My Favorite Things is sneezing. I have now sneezed so many times I’m actually seeing double. It appears that I have dislodged my eyeballs or something. With all this sneezing, I’m sure it sounds like someone is being murdered in my house. More Actifed, that’s what we need. (Loud sneeze here.)

    There. I’ve taken another Actifed, started a new paragraph, and my sneezing has subsided. So, shall we take another trip down memory lane? As long as I’ve already brought up the subject of my room recitals, I may as well ‘fess up and tell you about my family recitals. Yes, you know, you’ve been there. The ones where you make all the members of your family sit down and you do a “show” for them. Every Monday night at The Real A’s house, we would have a family dinner with my family, my Aunt and Uncle, my grandparents (yes, the stool man and his large wife) and occasionally an assorted cousin or two. We would eat, and then everyone would gather in the den and sit and chat. The men would smoke stogies and the women would sit and kvell over us kids. Then, I would announce that I would be doing a performance. There would be a smattering of applause and an occasional groan from a cousin, but once I announced it, that was it, there was no stopping me. I would aim a lamp at an area by the television set, I’d leave the room to prepare and then, a few minutes later, I’d make my entrance. My grandmother loved these performances. She’d say “Oy, look, vat a meshugah” (different from fershluganah). I’d do impressions of the famous and near famous (I did a deadly accurate impression of our pool man). I’d lip-synch to popular songs of the day. I’d tell jokes. Sometimes I’d bring up a guest star (my mother, who would always sing the same song for everyone, My Yiddeshe Mama). After I’d finished I’d take a bow, and everyone was always very complimentary, except my grandfather, who, of course, would say “what is it, fish?”. You’ll be happy to know that one of my biggest hits was Gee, Officer Krupke, in which I sang all the roles with great elan (not Elan), and which just happened to have been co-written by none other than Mr. Stephen Sondheim. And where did all those family recitals lead? Why, right here, dear readers. If it weren’t for those recitals, I would never have become The Real A, and if I had never become The Real A, none of you would be saying “What is it, fish?” Fate works in strange ways.

    Stuff

    What a tumultuous week in the show business world. Michael Ovitz was announced at the new head of Livent, everyone and their mother has had a turn at directing High Society, and a new book about my close personal friend Mr. Stephen Sondheim is starting to make the rounds (it comes out in June).

    Well, speak of the devil, an e-mail just arrived. Let’s see what it says, shall we?

    Date: Sun, April 19, 1998 12:11:10
    To: The Real A (real@sondheim.com)
    From: Stephen Sondheim (ssondheim@sondheim.com)

    Dear Real Allergic:

    I am sorry to hear about your allergies. I was just honored at the William Inge Festival, but all I could think about was you sneezing away. I, too, have allergies. For example, I am allergic to Lord Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. Whenever I think of him my nose starts to run. So, I commiserate. In fact, while I was sitting there at the Festival, listening to them go on and on about me, I wrote you this little lyric (to part of the tune of Agony):

    When I am stuffed up,
    When my eyes are puffed up,
    My misery grows…

    When I am wheezing
    And constantly sneezing
    And blowing my nose..

    Allergies,
    Oh, I hate them a lot…
    What’s so dismaying
    As constantly spraying
    A stream of your snot?

    Hope you feel better soon. I would enjoy this ceremony much more if I were prone.

    YCPF
    Steve

    Thanks, Steve. I feel better already. Oh, wait, there’s another e-mail. Hmmm.

    Date: Sun, April 19, 1998 12:11:10
    To: The Real A (real@sondheim.com)
    From: Lord Lloyd Webber (webber@reallyuseful.com)

    My darling A:

    Yes, I’ve heard all about the fact that they’re honoring your close personal friend Stephen Sondheim at some Festival. All I have to say is it will not hold a candle to my recent birthday celebration. Now, that was a bash! It was a bash and a half. Everyone was there, including that marvelous international motion picture star Antonio Banderas. He sang songs from POTO. Isn’t that exciting? I’m thinking of having him star in my non-existant movie version. Isn’t that a great idea? Someone suggested having Dolly Parton in the role of Christine, but I feel Dolly is just a bit too old, don’t you? Oh, I know she looks fabulously young with all her facial work, but still, you can’t lie to the close-up lens. We do wish you could have been here for my party, everyone was dying to meet you and find out once and for all who you really are. Or maybe you were there! Maybe you are Antonio Banderas! If so, you will be absolutely fabulous in my maybe motion picture version of Phantom.

    All love and kisses,
    Lord Andrew

    Wow, I am all aquiver at the thought that I might be Antonio Banderas. I’m not passing the buck on that one. Actually, have you ever tried to pass a buck? This is a heavy animal, the buck is. You could get a hernia trying to pass the buck. Come to think of it, shouldn’t “hernia” be the name of an animal? It sounds like the name of an animal, hence it should be the name of an animal. The Spotted Hernia. I like it.

    Letters… We Get Letters

    William F. Orr sent me a funny “letter” he received from our very own Carol Channing (which included a funny parody of I’m Just A Little Girl From Little Rock), however it was so long that to reprint it would take up the entire letters section. If I were William F. Orr (and who’s to say I’m not?) I would print said letter over at Finishing The Chat so that our dear readers can take a look at it.

    Lindsay writes to say that she is in total agreement with me about nauseating orange flavored Pez. She also asks what my favorite Pez dispenser is. Hands down, it’s my Daffy Duck one, that I won over at eBay. And why “hands down”? Why not “hands up”? She also mentions that she has an electronic Pez dispenser. What will they think of next? I would, however, distrust an electronic Pez dispenser, because what if it malfunctioned and it kept sending an endless stream of Pez Pellets in your mouth. You could be Pezzed to death. No, we’ll stick with the manual ones. Lindsay also mentions an “adult” Pez dispenser which apparently is one that doesn’t have a head. I will stop right here in the interest of decorum.

    Jim, a new dear reader, just happened to wander into the Stephen Sondheim Stage and unfortunately the first thing he read here was last week’s column. His comments: “Crazy absolutely CRAZY! What in the world is your website about? What’s up dude?” Firstly, I must clarify that this is not my website. Oh, no, dear readers, this here website belongs to Mr. Mark Bakalor, who is off doing shows or plays or musicals or something and I’m sure his car has broken down again in Petaluma or wherever [Note from Mr. Mark Bakalor: My car never broke down and it was in Lost Hills] because one has simply not heard much from Mr. Bakalor this week. As to what this website is about, I haven’t the foggiest. I first came here by mistake. I was looking for information about the SSS (Seriously Sadistic Somnabulists) and this is what I got. Luckily it worked out fine, because as everyone by now knows, Mr. Stephen Sondheim just happens to be my close personal friend. Finally, in answer to “what’s up dude?” what makes you think that the Real A is a dude? Might I not be a dudette?

    Holly reminds me that Stephen Sondheim is being honored at the William Inge Festival in Independence, Kansas. And frankly, if Holly hadn’t reminded me I would have totally forgotten about it (I got Holly’s e-mail way before Steve’s).

    DC writes to say that “horseradish” is named after a root vegetable in the radish family, which just happened to resemble the zubrick of a horse. So, some wiseacre said “horseradish” and voila, suddenly we had an accompaniment to boiled beef, prime rib, and the ever loving gefilte fish. I will tremble in anticipation if DC is able to tell me the derivation of “mucous”. DC’s favorite synonym for genetalia are: “ding-ding” (for the man) and “who-who” (for the woman). Gee, that sounds like it could be a lyric from The Trolley Song. “Ding-ding ding went the who-who…”

    Tiffany is very stressed out right now, trying to handle two jobs at once. She’s not getting enough sleep and is worried her grades will start to suffer. She wants to quit Job #1 but doesn’t want to be thought of as a quitter. I offer this advice for whatever it’s worth (I live by these words): It doesn’t matter one whit what people think – you take care of yourself and make yourself happy and if someone has a problem with that it’s their tough luck. If you need to quit Job #1 then you quit and if that makes someone perceive you as a quitter then you just go up to that someone and kick them really hard in the shins. This tends to shut people up right away. Tiffany also said she was in the chat room and had a chat (she’s Java enabled you know) with the one and only Spock. She tells me that he was very suspicious of me and my column and Tifffany’s worried that the result of their chat is why Spock is picking on my usage of the word “hopefully”. Well, hopefully that’s not the case. Tiffany also wants to know what color hair I have. Brown, with little bits of the blonde highlights thrown in for good measure.

    Spock (yes, Spock) continues ad nauseum to berate me for my usage of the word “hopefully”, even after I printed that long dissertation from the book known as the dictionary. Spock’s dictionary says my dictionary is full of it, and that my usage of the word “hopefully” is only acceptable to 0.0001 percent of the Usage Panel. Can you please get me the names of the people who were on the Usage Panel? Because I take umbrage, do you hear me? Umbrage. What the hell is a Usage Panel anyway? And what are they doing deciding how I should use the word “hopefully” when I wasn’t even consulted by said Usage Panel. Well, Spock, my dictionary’s Usage Panel says your dictionary’s Usage Panel is full of beans. Hopefully, that will put an end to this brouhaha (I can’t even begin to imagine the sick mind that came up with that word). Spock also tells me that he was not named after Mr. Spock, but was named in homage of Dr. Spock, who died on the day that young Spock was born. This would be a touching story in my book (Chapter 67 – The Death and Birth of Spock) if I hadn’t taken umbrage. But umbrage was taken and so I sit here (like so much fish) unmoved.

    Steve (not Sondheim) tells me that he was a bad Jew, and fell off the Passover wagon by eating a leavened bagel before he was supposed to. He will now have to atone for this on Yom Kippur or else he will suffer the Curse of Those Who Eat Bagels Early. Steve’s favorite synonym for the female genitalia is “cooter”.

    Roxy (in keeping with our Passover comments) informs me that I had heartburn because I ate a leavened Pizza and that that was my punishment. She also tells me that she’s a big Fellini fan, too, and that her favorites are La Dolce Vita and Amarcord. Roxy also wants to know why Bells Are Ringing hasn’t had a revival. First let me say that Bells Are Ringing is one of my favorite scores. I just adore it. There was talk of a revival a couple of years ago, to be directed by Gene Saks, and a reading was done, which starred Twiggy. Nothing came of it, but hopefully (yes, hopefully – you heard it here!) there will be a revival of this wonderful show. And wouldn’t Bernadette Peters be a wonderful Ella Peterson?

    Fred writes to say that my new close personal friend Marvin Hamlisch is too late in musicalizing A Streetcar Named Desire. They’ve already done it on The Simpsons. I have passed this information on to Mr. Hamlisch and he is devastated. He is now in seclusion, trying to figure out how to recycle his songs for another show.

    Stevie (not Steve, not Sondheim) agrees with me as regards the Cariou vs. Hearn debate. And I agree with Stevie, which means we are both in agreement, as we have agreed with each other. Agreed?

    Anita just wanted to point out how heinous (heinous, do you hear me?) Marianne Faithfull’s version of I Have A Love from West Side Story is. Not having heard it, I cannot say whether I agree with this or not, hence we are not exactly in the same agreement that Stevie and I are, although I hasten to add that we are not in disagreement either.

    Morgan has a Jewish father and a Catholic mother (people in these types of marriages are known as Jewcats), so her refrigerator had both matzoh ball soup and colored Easter eggs. Hopefully (yes, hopefully!) the Easter eggs were not in the matzoh ball soup, as that is a sin and would have to be atoned for on Yom Kippur. Otherwise you would suffer the Curse of Those Who Put Colored Easter Eggs In Matzoh Ball Soup.

    Yves adds these synonyms for genitalia to our ever burgeoning list: Stiffy and Stinker. Those also would be good names for a dog and cat.

    Michael sent along this information: For those interested in the Sweeney Todd video, you might try http://www.ccvideo.com, as they have had it, and at a good price, too.

  31. THE POLICE IS LOSING IT, folks?

  32. k8

    jesus christ #30, just because nobody visits your blog doesn’t mean you’re allowed to post your entire life’s worth of blogging on somebody else’s.

  33. malicious

    #2 Kim is small boned? WTF

  34. Louisville Slugger

    #30 – Shut the fuck up before I come over there and slap the shit out of you.

  35. supersex

    ugly ass bitches

  36. HW

    To #19- FYI, Flappers were NOT super skinny. They simply wore girdles and taped down their chest area to make themselves appear more boyish. The dresses they wore were also rather loose fitting, making them appear thinner in comparison.

  37. Smart&Cute2Boot

    Wow such haters, but I’m still predicting an increase in flappers for Halloween 2009.

  38. erin

    Kim’s hair looks cute like this.
    FATTY FAT FAT. flabby arms.

  39. Tarek Saad

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  40. Tarek Saad

    hi ,
    you make me so hot , i want to come open moor your legs and play by my finger in your pussy , ass , suck your boobes , lips , kiss you hot and bosh my long dick so deep in your pussy to give you moor hot milk to full off all you body
    moor milk go out , really
    i want to fuck you all the time
    ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyhhhhhhhhh
    please sent all your pic hot to me , i want to fuck you moor

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