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The Kardashians are over. You may feel like those over-saturated fame whores have already overstayed their welcome. I agree. This overness is different than justifiable Kardashian fatigue. Sunday’s episode triggered the Kardashian kollapse and you can thank Kanye for the downfall. Kanye’s unwillingness to allow North to be filmed for the show changes everything. We know Kim from the inside out. Literally. She can’t give it all away and then decide to snatch it back and expect her voyeuristic fanbase to remain loyal. We want to see Kim as a mother: changing the diapers, getting barfed on, all that delicious misery. How can they expect to successfully film around Kim being a mom? Withholding goes against the very Kardashian kore. You simply can’t film a birthing episode without a baby. They prep the nursery. We see the ultrasound. We admire Kim glammed at the hospital. The baby is the big finish – the money shot. Kim should know a little something about that. Nothing can last forever. The hypnotic Kardashian trance of hair and ass had to eventually lift like a cloud of mustard gas. Unless Kylie and Jaden film a sex tape, I wonder how the family will fill the next several contractually obligated seasons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Either Kanye sacrifices his first born to the insatiable child-eating E! Gods or we can blissfully kiss the Kardashians goodbye.
I feel strongly about marriage proposals which is probably why I haven’t been on the receiving end of one. I believe in speaking to the parents first (credit to Kanye). Give them an opportunity to object if they find the match unsuitable. Proposals should be well-reasoned and planned (points for the orchestra). Engagements should not happen as a reaction to a fight, a pregnancy test, or a health scare. Take a knee. Present a picture of an enticing life together. Make promises you intend to keep. Make eye contact and be sincere.Know what isn’t included in the simple list above, Kanye? A fucking Jumbotron. No woman really wants to be proposed to by a giant machine. It is so insincere and impersonal. For someone who is willing to smack a photographer to protect his privacy, a stadium-size proposal isn’t exactly discreet. But you know what really chaps my ass about the Kanye-Kim proposal? He stacked it on the top of a birthday. There is nothing lazier than using the excitement of another event to prop up a lame and ill-thought out bid to wed. No piggybacking on Christmas; hiding the ring under the tree with the socks and sweaters isn’t sufficiently special. Proposers really shouldn’t hitch their request to the champagne-high of New Year’s. An inquiry of this magnitude deserves its own day, its own care, and its own attention. Yes, he threw some money at it, but ultimately: Lazy proposal = Lazy-ass husband.
Today starts a new week, and within it we welcome October, one of the best months of the year. I love crisp October because the sun still shines, but the weather warrants an extra layer. Is there anything better than autumnal attire? To that end, go to your closet, rotate the summery non-transitional garb to the back and pull forth all those glorious sweaters, moto jackets, and skinny jeans. Break out your boots girl. Assemble 5 killer ensembles to don this week. Find a fresh way to rework what you already love before you get caught in a buying frenzy. Donate what you won’t wear this winter or ever again.
If you are feeling Sunday sluggish, set the kitchen timer for an amount of time you can stomach and organize your living space. Sort the mail, pay the bills, dump the recycling, clean out the fridge. Take care of the chore that subconsciously nags you to distraction.
Start thinking of your Halloween costume because we’re having a party.
Contemplate darker hair.
After completing all of our preparations for the week, we can sit down in good conscience and enjoy the Homeland season 3 premiere without any looming Monday morning anxiety. Mini-spoiler: I heard Brody doesn’t even appear in the first two episodes.
p.s. Did Claire get a peel or is this just airbrushing? She looks very dewy.
So I’ve been listening to Yeezus for almost a week now. Some people love it. Some people hate it. Some people just repeat opinions they hear on Pitchfork. I’m not one of those people. To succinctly summarize Kanye’s problem: he lacks credibility. While lecturing us on materialism, he name checks Alexander Wang all while playing designer with his very own weak-ass ready-to-wear collection. Kanye, you wish you were Alexander Wang. Kanye, you wish you were Riccardo Tisci. (Or you wish you were in Riccardo Tisci allegedly whatever.) How can a man that is shamelessly reproducing with the Kueen of Konsumption lecture anyone? Kanye maintains his trademark anger on this album, but on Yeezus it feels particularly misdirected. For all his race-based indignation, I suspect the last time Kanye West felt legitimately persecuted is when Alber Elbaz had the good sense to deny his ass from the Lanvin show. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is a really incredible and incomparable record. I don’t expect every record Kanye makes to eclipse BDTF, but Yeezus isn’t at all fun. Kanye borrows from a somewhat diverse (if predictable) musical cannon ranging from Billie Holliday (vis-à-vis Nina Simone) to Charlie Wilson, but the vocal layering never quite gels. It feels very mash-up and less integrative than his previous application of this well-worn technique. Kanye fancies himself a pioneer and taste-maker, but his private and personal decisions of the last year prove he’s no visionary. Yeezus ain’t all that innovative. Kim is so over, and bathed in her low-budget, mainstream media-whore stank Kanye’s all but over too.
I’d Rather Be a Dick Than a Swallower
Happy Solstice! Today we welcome summer. I will complete 108 sun salutations to initiate in the new season. The practice helps me shed old energy and embrace the future. If my tan so far is any indication, this summer is going to be the best summer ever. No those bitches didn’t name that baby North West. For fucksake.
In this week’s non-bombshell news, is anyone actually surprised that Paula Deen is a racist? For today’s overreaching bossy advice I command you go outside and smile at a stranger. Okay, fine, sneer if you want to, but go outside.
Most people won’t get it, but Anja Rubik (in Anthony Vacarello) managed what many could not at the 2013 Met Gala. The model executed on the punk theme without falling into some of the most common sartorial traps of the evening (don’t worry, we’ll get there). The shape, color, and fabric reference punk while remaining high fashion. If this puresex look isn’t totally fuckable, you tell me what is? Let’s just get this GOOP out of the way right now before this candy-coated bitch drives me to distraction. I thought Paltrow swore off pink gowns after that cloying Ralph Lauren she donned for her Oscar win. Is she fucking with us? I loathe this Valentino Couture gown on so many levels I can only assume she chose it as her hate campaign uniform. Nude illusion, really girl? Pink shiny too short long sleeves? What? A puddle of bridesmaid satin pink? Incomprehensible. How is she going to sell those expensive gym memberships when the skinny bitch actually looks chubby (gasp!)?Who the fuck did Kanye blow to get Kim in this year? So this florabomination is courtesy of Riccardo Tisci. I’m not sure we can blame him. All I can focus on is her Miss Piggy foot. Poor pregnant Kim is puffed up painfully and spilling over the edge of that shoe. The gloves are totally freaking me out. Hand camo. Cameron Diaz served up a spiky-waisted Stella McCartney in a bold blue cape style. I dislike how this frock is both droopy and restrictive. After all that Hathaway drama at the Oscars, Amanda drew upon all her Givenchy spokesbitch connections to score this archive gown. I think it is fucking genius. Suck it Anne! In Valentino, Anne Hathaway’s boobs channeled Madonna’s titties from the Express Yourself video, right? Do we like Annie as a blonde? I don’t hate it, but the brassy color is undoubtedly aging. Christina Ricci knocked on the door of the right fashion house – Vivienne Westwood – for a post-punk glam moment, but it looks like she got tangled up in the tartan. I do love the orange lip and fishnets. Ashley Olsen robbed a Palm Beach Socialite of her vintage Christian Dior Couture for her sherbet sparkling Met moment. In keeping with her body dismorphic trademark style, Mary-Kate wore Chanel and Balmain that was five sizes too big for her. I get the impression Allison Williams takes herself way too seriously. She smacks of try. The heinous piecemeal gown is Altuzarra.Anna Wintour stuck with sequined floral Chanel, and Bee wore Dior. Can’t say I’m particularly wowed by the wicked stepsisters.Does anyone wear clothes better and with more enthusiasm than SJP? Love her Giles Deacon gown and Phillip Treacy headpiece. Topshop dressed Nicole Richie. The overall styling isn’t that flattering, but I’m still oddly attracted to her white hair. Punk Glam Granny?Opa! Here comes the flaming cheese – Beyoncé in Givenchy.Uma Thurman looked absolutely snatched in this leafy Zac Posen. What did she do to her face?Stella McCartney must be best friends with Liberty Ross because this outfit is obviously a revenge burn on Kristen Stewart. Is she smuggling honey-baked ham in there?I’ve been loving me some Rita Ora lately. She not only successfully fucked-over that whiny Rob Kardashian, she looks super fresh in this white Thakoon.Emma Watson worked her sexy, but she remained eternally adorable and demure in this Prabal Gurung. She’s our modern day Audrey. Miley really went for it in Marc Jacobs and it worked. Hate to admit she’s been serving something savory lately. Applause. Compare Miley to her contemporary Taylor Swift who looks about 53 in this old lady J. Mendel number.Speaking of 53, Madonna came in her Givenchy costume. For a woman who hates her thighs, she sure is accentuating them in this fussy get-up. You could bounce a quarter off that face (and ass!). Dakota Fanning looked super cute in her Rodarte. Even though this look was understated compared to most, the simple and sweet styling stood out from the crowd. Here is Lena Dunham in Erdem with Erdem. The makeup is the best ever for her. Jessica Alba belongs on a Maxim list and nowhere else. Seriously, who wears Tory Burch to a punk themed gala? Sheesh. Why don’t you just wear Lilly Pulitizer bitch? Carey Mulligan is everything in Balenciaga. Die for the safety pin. It isn’t showy, but it doesn’t need to be. Fucking chic.Lopez put a little leopard on it in Michael Kors. The girl gives good face, and I love the unusual hair Jen! Bonus points for not letting the cabana boy ruin the shot. May we all be this ravishing at her age. Diane von Furstenberg rolled in as a disco-dipped Mrs. Roper.
Calm down Gisele. (From what I hear Cara brought the eight-ball).
How did the same girl who was duped by the world’s most obvious craigslist scam just negotiate a $1.5 million sex tape deal? In the Teen Mom sea of daft, Farrah might be the daftest of all. Let’s be honest, Farrah’s breast implants demonstrate better critical reasoning than she does, and yet she secured a pretty epic payday for unconvincingly “leaking her own sex tape.” This genius staged a sex tape leak with a professional porn star and still got seven figures. Kim Kardashian must be her sex-tape-selling fairy godmother. G-Sus. I’d like to say it wasn’t a good investment on Vivid’s part, but frankly I am DYING to see the Teen Mom’s debut. I love me a celebrity sex tape: Kim, Paris, Colin, and the gold standard Pam. Farrah’s tape won’t rank among the best, but it will certainly compete for the title of most unintentionally hilarious.
Didja all catch the pineapple pussy-off on last night’s Kourtney & Kim Take Miami? In case you didn’t, Kim and Kourtney debated who had a sweeter smelling puss and decided to put their minges to the challenge of cultivating the freshest scent. To enhance their natural aroma, the girls drank pineapple juice like it was the new master cleanse. I wondered if this was just some krazy shit Kris thought up as a desperate ratings ploy, but no, this pineapple juice drinking is an actual thing people do on purpose to sweeten excretions. Who knows if the technique has actual merit? All you really want to know is who won the pussy stank-off, right? Guess who judged? Sister Khloe. Yeah, inhale that. Anyway, no surprise Kim’s world famous twat won against Kourtney’s all-natural baby maker.
This vadge-centric episode also included a very weird encounter with Khloe and Kegel balls. The first one dropped out easily, but the second got stuck – until Kourtney spanked it out of her.