I’ve been laughing at this picture of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West for a long fucking time and still can’t decide what my favorite part is. The finely architected public bathroom with the utopian automatic paper towel dispenser? The slits in that dress one can only imagine makes her hips look like mashed potatoes being squeezed through a baby’s fist when she sits down? The look on Kanye’s face, which I’m choosing to believe is a silent plead to that majestic eagle on his shirt to come to life and carry him away from anything Kardashian?
You know your shtick is played out when Kanye of all people is standing behind your Cream of What ass (that was supposed to be “wheat” but whatever), looking like he’d rather be sitting in the middle of a Skechers outlet seconds store surrounded by bargain shoppers and design mediocrity than be near you.
While Kanye performed in Miami, Kim hung out with my lesbi-honest girl crush, Gabrielle Union, some basketball wives and living Picasso Jonathan Cheban, who put his PR background to good use trying to convince anybody with a pair of eyes that whatever the hell this plate of crap is that KK cooked for Thanksgiving was edible.