got my pennies saved, so i’m her sugar daddy; i’m her hume cronyn and she’s my jessica tandy

Welcome home, Internet. I know you missed me, blah blah blah, I hate you, blah blah blah, midget joke.

So I just got back from Los Angeles. I flew out there a few days ago to attend the wedding of that Kardashian girl — not the hot one with the big ass who’s famous for no reason, but the fat one with the even bigger ass who’s famous for being the sister of the hot one with the big ass who’s famous for no reason — and OMFG you should have seen the way she tore into that cake.

Mix in a little lipo next time and you might not have to suck in so much to fit into that plus-sized Vera Wang gown, fat Kardashian.

I was a guest of the groom, what with him being from Queens and all, and I’ll be the first to admit that when I got the invitation, I had my doubts about the marriage. “Oh no!” I exclaimed with a sigh and a light, open-handed pat to my forehead. But then as I cracked open a beer and sat on my sofa and gave it a good thinking or two, I began to see that they were kinda, sorta made for each other.

After all, he’s black and wealthy and an athlete, and since that’s fat Kardashian’s hot sister’s type, the Code of Famous for No Reason means that it’s fat Kardashian’s type, too. By proxy. Has to be.

And on the flip-side, she’s fat and white so duh, of course a black dude would be into that.

And then when you figure that he sometimes eats candy for breakfast, well, it all just starts making too much sense.

I wrote them this haiku:

Take the top, Lamar,
Lest you find yourself sitting
On injured reserve.

Kobe ROTFLOLed when I read it at the reception. Despite my deadpan delivery, he ROTFLOLed right in Lamar’s face, which both flattered me and also made me feel as though I’d violated the terms of my “don’t entertain rapists” rule. But apparently rape isn’t that big a deal in L.A. so I guess no worries.