Look, I’m as tired of the Keeping Up with the Kardashian dreaded coven as the next guy. But when I see a celebrity with low cut tops and tremendous ta-ta’s like Kim Kardashian, I can’t deny my motorboating fantasies still kick in something fierce. You don’t want to have to marry her (god forbid) to feel the sense of pride in imagining her floppy funions smothering you in the face as she tells you about all the must-see stuff in her new Hamptons spinoff.
Maybe I’m just speaking for myself at this point. But somebody besides my dog Mr. Flugelhorn needs to hear this. Kim Kardashian may not be the one to bring home to mother, but to my Red Roof Inn suite for a half an hour, motorboats away! I’m in. Enjoy.