What a stupid fucking piece-of-shit one-note hack idea. Right? I mean, look: To be fair, it was my idea, and it seemed medium-funny at the meeting two weeks ago. But atthis point (Sunday night, 11:33 p.m.), I have just spent a week—seven beautiful, festive, rosy-cheeked, cookie-laden days—hunched miserably over a keyboard straining, word by word, to squeeze a full-length “article” out of what is essentially just a mildly amusing novelty headline.
What did you do this weekend? Did you have fun? Eat pancakes? Read a book? Steam-clean the rugs? NOT ME. I sat on my couch in my underpants (cold feet, sweaty armpits—electric baseboard heat is like a permanent flu simulator built into the apartment) and tried to imagine what kind of a personality Kim Cattrall’s vagina would have if it were a sentient being instead of just a pocket of folded mucus membranes. All. Week. And then I realized something: OOPS, MY LIFE IS STUPID.
I had a couple of basic ideas here. My original idea was that Kim Cattrall’s vagina should be super-erudite, elegant, and wise, with a sort of wry, parental affection for Cattrall and her shenanigans. It started out like this:
Ah, regret. Was it not T. S. Eliot who said, “Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened into the rose-garden”?
Instantly bored. Oh well. Didn’t work. My second idea was that Kim Cattrall’s vagina should basically be Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. Here’s as far as I got on that one:
‘Ello, guv’nah! Wot’s all this, then? Wot’s all this? Step in toyme! Votes for wimmin!
Okaaaaaay, on second thought, that one makes me laugh. Like maybe it should be that Kim Cattrall’s vagina is literally Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins—like Cattrall and Bert the chimney sweep were both shopping for last-minute stocking stuffers in Chinatown and when the inscrutable shopkeep was off oiling his long mustache, Cattrall impulsively stole some ancient Chinese amulet by, uhhhh, hiding it up her vagina (like ya do), and then whilst hurrying away with her ill-gotten gains she ran around a corner and, BONK!—straight into Bert! And from there it’s just your typical Freaky Friday scenario
—which, incidentally, means that Bert the chimney sweep spent the rest of his days saddled with the brain of an old lady’s vagina. Hey, maybe that explains Diagnosis Murder! Heyo! ZINGGG! Ahhhhhhhhh, never mind. Sometimes a joke just doesn’t work.
I’m going to bed. 
what the fuck did poor dick van dyke do to get tangled in this piece of shit. weed is for occasional use only, not the occasion of waking up, or making pee. but like once a week it’s ok. here you ran amok with a vaguely amusing passing thought and ended up with a piece that goes nowhere at a slow crawl. and as i mentioned, dragged poor ole DVD into it. fer shame, lindy, fer shame.
Seriously Buddspal? This is how you spend your time? If you’ve got so many awesome opinions, go start a podcast that nobody listens to or something. Oh yeah, and apparently you like Che. Damn you hella revolutionary. I didn’t even KNOW about him until like 4th grade. You’re blowing minds.
Lindy, please start finishing your assignments.
This shit is funny.
the only thing that could stink more than kim cattrall’s cunt would be a story about what it thinks about. the only thing that could stink more than that could be a lindy west write up. judging by her comment history (25 comments in 7 articles) some with none at all. i’d say it’s a fair bet that her shit totally suck’s even by the strangers standards. i bet i get more clicks , and comment’s than she does. and no this wasn’t even remotely funny , your shit is lame. find some talent fast or get out. seriously !
who the hell is Kim Cattrall?
@5: “i bet i get more clicks , and comment’s than she does”
someone named after south park characters is rimming the trash can for ideas, at least 12 year old trolls have an excuse for being unfunny
Hey, look on the bright side: At least you’re not Kelly O. She’s got to do that sort of thing every time she goes to a bar or a party.
God damn, Young Dick Van Dyke is just the hottest.
Didn’t her vagina play a Vulcan once?
dearest CHECKCHECK, fuhyuh. LW has a plum spot, and can write funny. all too fucking often, she jumps on shit she thinks she can phone in. this is another of those. and i’m gonna jump up and down and yell about it every time i see it, because i am so fucking jealous, i cannot stand it. i love the stranger, even though i am reading it in new york. i cannot stand it when i see someone not appreciating what they have, what a fucking dream job that is. don’t treat me like shit, with your piss poor writing. that’s fucking bullshit. i call it.
Lindy,
I’m giving you a D+, and I think we both know why.
I’m hoping to see the kind of work I expect from you in the future. LET THIS BE A LESSON.
I agree with no. 11! People on here have just raved about lindy before, not this time. Does she have a day job and this is like a part time job for her. I love the stranger!
Yeah, I think the SATC2 review was 1000X better than this.
I think when Kim Catrall’s vagina was a little vagina she saw a documentary about Tallullah Bankhead’s vagina and decided to spend the rest of her life pretending.
But the Dick Van Dyke Freaky Friday Vagina Theory is funny as shit!
This sucks.
Yeah, stick it where it stinks, LW! I agree with Che… You nailed the review of Sex In the City Part Two, but the very fact that you wasted a whole week thinking about making some 60-year-old’s vagina sound funny is vaudeville on ice. I, too, read The Stranger from a distant city. You have a great job, but Samantha’s vagina isn’t funny–it’s gross. And that’s where your premise suffers. I’m not sure the name Dick Van Dyke is funny. You want to know what Samantha’s cooter sounds like? It sounds like a queef.
QUEEF!
That’s what it sounds like. A freaking old-woman queef. Quit trying so hard.
Agreed. I really like some of your other reviews. This idea, while pretty dumb to begin with, actually had some potential. However, it sounds like the lol-celebrities-suck-make-crappy-feminist-jokes articles that I wrote for my high school newspaper… which they refused to publish for poor taste and uninteresting writing.