So last night I subjected myself to another episode of “Kourtney” and “Khloe” Take Miami, after which I drank myself into a stupor from which I just recently awoke. In my mind, I keep reliving soundbites about vaginal waxing, anal bleaching, and breast-milk guzzling from the sisters Kardashian:
“Khloé”: “I cannot let [my husband] Lamar see me as a hairy beast.”
“Kourtney”: “It will be fun to rip out Khloé’s pubes one by one.”
“Khloé”: “I’m still pissed at Kourtney for making my vagina a swollen mess.”
“Kourtney”: “Khloé’s a little red and a little puffy, but it’s not a big deal.” [She means down below, obvs.]
“Khloé”: “I would rather be hairy than burned.” [She, too, means down below.]
“Kourtney”: “If you pour [my freshly pumped breast milk] on my head, I will literally, in your sleep, open your mouth and guzzle it down your throat, drop by drop.”
There was also “Kourtney” trying to “heal” “Khloé” using butter and a kitchen knife, plus a person named “Scott,” who I must reiterate looks exactly like Christian Bale in American Psycho, methodically brushing a newborn baby’s barely existent hair, referring to his baby mama’s sister’s privates as “beefed up,” and making my skin leap off my body and try to change the channel to Telemundo.
Was it all a fever dream? Or was it actually on my TV screen? And why do I find this braying, camera-seeking “Khloé” vaguely charming? It’s Stockholm Syndrome, right? Tell me it is or I will embed a horrible clip of the shenanigans below! Okay, people, I warned you!