Lots of people beg us to stop featuring the Kardashians. And you know, I get tempted. I do. I’m not any happier about them than you are (although I do find Khloe and Lamar’s marital success kind of great — did I ever tell you I figured out why they’re soulmates? It’s because if you look at them, they both have crooked smiles but on opposite sides of their mouths, which means when they make out their crookedness aligns, and thus, they are Made For Each Other, and I promise this occurred to me in a flash after glancing at a Got Milk ad or something and not after hours of contemplation). But the thing is, sometimes, we need content, and they are nothing if not givers of content. I mean, how can I resist this?
She’s wearing a tank top, legging-esque pants, a fur stole Blake Carrington is just ITCHING to throw in front of the fire before making 30-second love to Krystle in front of a Vaseline-smeared lens, and then the bastard children of sandal stilettos and legwarmers. They’re open-toed legwettos. So not only is she dressing as if it’s summer and winter at the same time, but she wants us to think she has retired from public eye and opened up a restaurant on Hoth. Which is ridiculous. Nobody goes out to eat there. Just look what happened to Luke.