My dear Ms. Romano ... as soon as you called Kim Kardashian a fucking ugly bag of moldy laundry (ALL CAPS, no less), I knew it was love. And it only got better from there on. I could almost see the spittle flying as you furiously typed away. You have made my list of People I'd Invite To A Dinner Party Just To See The Shit Fly. I heart u 4evr.
Saw the photo, read the article, and my icky-hipster-o-meter redlined. It's time to move to a double-wide in east Vancouver, buy some chaw, and start some serious drinking. (Did appreciate the call out to "thieves, sluts, ego-maniacs, juiceheads, faggots, Tiny Elvis, Fleetwood Mac and stuck-up bitches," however. Right back atcha.)
This I,A has it all ... "depressed/farting like crazy/covered in acne," bitterness, lacerating adjectives, and a simmering sense that even more bile is just around the corner. Could this herald a new Golden Age for our beloved column?
I need some cash. $10 up front, satisfaction guaranteed. Wuddya say?
God, I love Portland. For one thing, this is not unusual behavior AT ALL for the FM on Hawthorne. Secondly, #4 has made my day. Fucking insanity on wheels, that's my little burg!
Almost forgot ... #11 (la beav), you win my private comment of the week award. No skeezy movie tickets or coupons for free fish, but you do rock.
Re: “Wanted: Your Cure for a Post-Thanksgiving Clogged Duodenum”
That's easy peasy caffeine squeezy ... the good old-fashioned coffee enema! Simply put a 16-ounce jar of Folgers Crytals into 2 quarts of warm water, put same into an enema bag, mix well, recline in a friend's bathtub, insert nozzle, squeeze bag and wait. Just remember the old jingle: "The best part of waking up is Folgers up yer butt." (PS: Don't forget to check I,A periodically for the soon-to-arrive "My Friend Shat All Over My Bathroom And Ran" posting.)