Yes, yes, it’s everyone’s favorite genre of post. Although actually, it might well BE everyone’s favorite: Either you love the Jenndashians, in which case this is your jam on toast, or you loathe them and thus it’s one easily skippable bite without the threat of them creeping into your life anywhere else.
Anyway, Kylie turned 21. Unlike when she turned 18 by having her creepy longtime boyfriend “give” her a car that I’m pretty sure he never owned in the first place and which I bet went back to the dealer like a week later, this time it was just a chill two-outfit dinner with her family, and … Dave Chappelle? Sure.
Happy birthday! You look like a demon conjured by Krystle Carrington.
And then I guess this was necessary? Seven million people certainly thought so. It’s like… I am aware of the numbers, and the frenzy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still stop short and blink several times, nonplussed. I suppose maybe if I had sparkly bike shorts, I would be inclined to get on a bicycle more than once every 14 years, but even so that’s between me and the equipment at my gym.