Welp... That Sucked...

January 23rd has just replaced New Years Eve as the feast day of all buzzkills.

Everyone knows what it's like to wake up on New Year’s Eve morning, spend the day primping and priming for what’s sure to be the best night of your life. You scenario yourself right before midnight happily buzzed and enchantingly flirting with that guy you didn’t have the balls to talk to sober. Welp, reality strikes and instead of getting your DFMO on with hottiepants as the clock strikes 12, you’re holding back your girlfriend’s pukey hair in the bathroom making a mental list of every hors d'oeuvres she b-lined for that night. Buzz. Kill. That’s how I felt on Sunday.

To answer the question that's probably circling your silly little brain, no... I'm not at all referring to the Jets loss to that far-better-and-stronger team. (Shocking realization insert here: No one cares about the Jets and green is an ugly color). I’m actually referring to the season premiere of Kourtney and Kim take New York on E! And no… I’m not being dramatic; it actually was that bad.

Similar to the vigor one would express on New Year’s Eve, I jumped in the car and floored it back to FSQ to make it there one hour before the premiere. This would give me the time to shower, adequately moisturize, throw on some PJs and stake a claim on the best part of the couch. “Mom! You’re gonna LOVE this show!” I told her. Ten minutes in to the show I cowered into a ball with my tail between my legs---I was wrong. The amount the show blew was no doubt comparable to amount of lines Scott Disick blows on a daily basis.

Why did it blow, you ask? The answer is simple: Kardashians – Khloe – Mason + Kim*1000 = a recipe for disaster. No wonder Kim hasn’t had her own spinoff until now; she has the personality of a damp bathing suit—uncomfortable, cold, and the cause of so many UTIs.

You know that Khloe is sitting in her giant house with her big chocolate man candy smiling her ass off that America finally sees she’s the real star of the show. And poor, Kourtney—my favorite! It’s clear that she wants to live with Kim in a NYC apartment just as much as she would like to have each one of her pubes tweezed (wait… I take it back… she’d love that).

What’s really missing here is the little Mason cake. That baby is so freaking cute he could have made Meet The Fockers enjoyable. Instead, we’ve been graced with Kanye West, who when introduced to a sales associate so gracefully replied “I think she knows who I am.” DOUCHEMONKEY!

If this show doesn’t get better fast, I’m approaching E! with the concept of “Mason takes Manhattan.” I’ll be his nanny and we’ll go to adorbs adventures like baby-likes-disco and feeding ducks in central park. A guaranteed hit for sure!

Kanye West - On Kourtney & Kim Take New York (2011)

New York Needs a Kardashian

If there's one thing missing in the city that never sleeps it's more hair extensions and fake eyelashes...

...so we'll take a Kardashian for SURE!

It's no secret that my favorite Armenian, Kourt Kard, is taking up residency in the big apple. I have it on legitimate authority from my most reliable news outlet (/Perez Hilton) that Kourtney (/E!) is already hiring (/casting) for a NY branch of DASH. OMG I CAN'T tell you how excited I am to shop (/buy one hanky panky).

Last night on KUWTK, Kourtney and Scott Dickish took their chubby little nugget on a house hunting extravaganza... NYC style. I believe it was the moment that I saw an actual dining room in a West Village apartment when I was rendered speechless and paralyzed (making cringing at the sound of Scott's voice pretty difficult). Hopefully Kourtney will get one of my thousand letters to her, begging to be considered for the position of Mason's babysitter (/threatening to steal him).

If becoming Mason's babysitter doesn't pan out, I've already thought of another way to make my way into the Kamily: starting up an affair with Kylie. Poor girl gets ZERO camera time! It must be awful growing up with a model for a twin and half sisters that look like (/are) Kim Kardashian. There's no doubt that Kylie's due for a scandal. If the legend is true, once a Kardashian sister is caught up in a scandal, she develops the breasts of a Grecian goddess and the tukis of a rap guy's girlfriend. We've all got high hopes that one day Khloe's time will come too.

Until next week, satiate your kesires with this little gem Kourt posted on her site (ahh... another reason why I love her):

Kids Reenact: Keeping Up With The Kardashians - Click here for more home videos

The Armenians Take Gold in the Placenta Olympics

Last night on the finale of Keeping up with the Kardashians, Scottney had a baby boy...

...and Kourt singlehandedly pulled him out of her hoo-hah.

We've all heard it: birth is a miracle. But in honor of the 2010 winter games, Kourtney Kardashian just made labor an Olympic sport. We'll call it the Birth Canal Luge.

If you missed the show last night, I'll give you the play-by-play. Kourt's water breaks in the middle of the night. After laughing about how it's "dripping down her leg," she decides to spare the wood paneled floor of a goo spill and catch it in a cup, proving early on that she will be a staunch competitor in the placenta games. Then, remaining completely calm, she opts to take a shower so that she could shave. See! You can even ask Michael Phelps... nothing gives you speed and agility like a clean shave (especially when we're talking about the no-no parts).

Before heading off to the hospital, Kourtney applies a fresh face of makeup giving her yet another 10 points. The fact that Kourt has remained so calm despite how she is about to give birth to a half cartoon-character baby (from the child's parental side, of course) is truly remarkable.

At the hospital, Scottney is met by future aunts, Kim, Khloe, Kylie and Kendall as well as Grandma Kris. Hmm... something tells me Kris isn't going to be taking the title of "Grandma" too lightly. I should expect the baby will be calling her "Krazy lady who takes care of me sometimes" for quite a while.

And at last, the main event! Kourt is feeling pressure and it is time for the pushing to begin. As baby daddy, Scott Dickish, mans the video camera (and not his girlfriend), Kourt flies solo, pulling her knees to her chest preparing for the decent. All of a sudden, the baby's head emerges. Then in one valiant championship effort, Kourtney reaches down into her depths, grabs the baby, and pulls him out of the luge and on to her chest. Baby boy, Mason Dash Disick and a gold medal performance for team Armenia! Bruce Jenner will be so proud to learn there is another Olympic champion in the family!

Congratulations, Kourtney! You've always been my favorite Dash and I wish you all the best. As for the silk-robe mancreature baby daddy of yours? Well, let's just hope we'll never have to see this again:

Punch Drunk Love

On Sunday, someone punched Kim Kardashian.

That was a really fun sentence to say, but in actuality she signed up for it. Yes, both Kim and her steamy cup of hot chocolate, Reggie Bush, showcased their athletic sylings on national TV Sunday night. Reggie was winning a game that would send his team to the superbowl (GO SAINTS!), while Kim was getting rocked in the face for charity. It was an all around GREAT night for TV!

"Man" of the house, Bruce Jenner, finally got his revenge for being kicked around like a rag doll for the better part of his adulthood last episode when he signed the gang up for a celebrity boxing match. Poor Brucey... all he wants is a little respect (and maybe to get his balls back). Sunday's episode opened with an awards ceremony in Bruce's honor that none of the kids showed up for. Real nice. I'm pretty sure that if it were legal to punch your kids in the face, Bruce would have played Tyson vs. Holyfield with the Kardashian girls a long time ago. Instead, he invited the charitable public to do it for him. Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.

The episode also previewed the fathering skills of Scott Disick, television's skeeviest slimejacket. Surprisingly enough Scotty boy's parental instincts weren't completely fucked. Ugh! Something in that guys very being makes my skin want to jump off and take shelter in an armored safe box. Is it the silk smoking jacket? The pretentious air about him? The complete lack of regard for anyone but himself? Hmm... on second thought it must be the name...