I want to be a Hilton

You've got to be shitting me. Kathy Hilton, the mother of the most classless, skankiest slut on the planet is hosting a reality show where she teaches others etiquette, food appreciation and living high society life.

Kathy, who the fuck are you? Why don't you have your own daughter on the show? When your rich, socialite daughter stars in one of the best selling porn DVDs of all time, you're pretty much disqualified from telling people which fucking fork you should use for your salad. When South Park dedicates an entire episode to calling your daughter a skanky whore... when your daughter interrupts a blow job to answer her cell phone... Did Paris have a father figure growing up or is she merely looking for one in every asshole with a camcorder she meets?







Why does she bother wearing clothes? Which episode of 'Hilton' does Kathy discuss subduing tit and beaver shots and home movie lighting? Why am I so angry?


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Is it me or does every fat, black actress find it necessary to give themselves a single, french name? Mo'Nique... Jackee... Others I can't think of.

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Live 8: not watching it.

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Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It's been fifteen days since my last confession...

GOOCH: True Troutdale Story

I had recently moved to Troutdale and was recently single. My appearance and hygeine had become crucial as I endeavored more and more to meet the hot Troutdale bitches I'd heard so much about. I even resorted to using moistened towlettes during the course of ass-wiping just so wouldn't have that "no so fresh" feeling.

I had just finished taking a deuce when I blindly reached into the cabinet for a towlette. I grabbed one from a dispenser and, well, wiped. I got up and went to sit at the computer when my ass started to hurt. It was a dull burn quickly increasing to excruciating pain. I went to the bathroom to do... I don't know... something... when I looked down into the cabinet able to see what I couldn't when I was sitting on the toilet. I'd grabbed a Lysol disinfectant household wipe instead of the baby-wipe, both in similar packaging/dispensers. I unwittingly had rubbed chemicals into the most sensitive part of my body. And it hurt.

Bad.

Later, after the pain and tears subsided, I went to have a quick drink with some friends. I didn't know anyone that well, but the conversation got quiet, so I started one...

"Guess what I wiped my ass with an hour ago?"

Good ice-breaker, indeed.

GOOCH: Um... out?