That funny because I dab dry my bits, but my hubby puts the towel between his legs and pulls back and forth like a goddamn cartoon character, sometimes working in up into his buttcrack. We use the “different color towels for each person” method for a reason.

Just came down here to say that.

OK... let’s set aside the myriad ways to know whose towel is whose.

Seriously, who is washing towels EVERY DAY (aside from people with VERY LARGE families and very small linen closets)?

I’m not going to make fun of Kourtney Kardashian, even if I’m not sure online law school exists (maybe a pre-law bachelors does?). I mean, good for her, it’s a more worthy goal than the fake lips and ridiculous Pepsi ads the rest of the family peddles. Also, online courses are the only available option for lots of…

I still fondly remember Audrina Patridge’s sponcon pregnancy announcement. So moving.

If the bikini fits you must acquit.

I clicked on the Bill Murray story, and was delighted by the title of another Cindy Adams gem:

Agriculture Minister Barnaby Joyce.

NYC knows him better than anyone. Hence the hate.

New York has always held an outsized disdain for Trump. My mom was a fancy businesslady in the 80s and she says she and every other woman she knew would cross the street if they saw him coming up the sidewalk. Apparently his reputation as a pussy grabber goes way, way back.

He’s also wearing an Identity Europa polo shirt in the photo. The weird triangle logo thing.

You got some top drawer kitsch finding that book. There’s one I have called “Dictator Style” featuring the garish homes of top tyrants of the 20th Century. It would be a great companion piece. Curiously every one of them had their oversized bed on a stage-like platform. Trump will fit perfectly in a later edition.

New York has ALWAYS hated Trump. I moved there in 1983, and he was widely reviled and ridiculed. Look up archives of the old Spy magazine — you’ll see.

Exactly! I recently saw (don’t remember who dug it up) a 1988ish episode of Robin Leache’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous featuring Donald and Ivana Trump. The thing about that show was that NO real moneyed NY Society (like then Society queens Nan Kempner or Brooke Astor) would’ve EVER been on that show.

Obligatory “why not both?” And then Pizza Rat Runs off with his rug, uses it during rat open night mike night in a hilarious bit that impresses his ladyfriend, Croissant Rat. They marry and raise little Tater Tot rats, who snuggle safely every night in said silken orange toupee, dreaming the dreams of free and…

I appreciate the specificity of this.

I hope Pizza Rat sneaks in the penthouse and drops a pepperoni turd on his face while he sleeps.

As I said in an e-mail thread with my friends yesterday, our elected officials pour exponentially more of my money into the United States Corporate Buttfucking Fund via tax loopholes and sham government contracts than they do into social welfare programs. Yet the people who shriek about fiscal responsibility…

How is a person who has no children but pays their taxes (I assume she did) a drain on society? For example, the taxes I pay support schools, despite me not having any children to attend those school.