Keeping Up with Kim

Dear Internet (Bitches Everywhere),

As I gear up for tomorrow night's episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I wanted to set the record straight. Even though I'm all for Bitches Talkin' Shit, I'm tired of all the hating on Kim Kardashian. It's getting ridiculous.

I'm going to be totally straight with you folks. The only reason people dislike her, especially women and girls, AKA Bitches, is because she's hot. If she were some bumbling ugly, like a normal person, she wouldn't be prancing down the red carpet, having her pornos released, or starring in an awesome reality TV show. But that is the whole thing. If any of us normal people could do that, we would love ourselves and everyone else would hate us. So here's the straight business on why everyone hates Kim:

1. She's gorgeous, has big boobs and an ass that most men would pay money to smack.
2. She has awesome clothes and buttloads of money.
3. She doesn't have to do real work, like go to an office or dig ditches.
4. Men love her.
5. You are nothing like her and have no porno hot qualities.

I personally love Kim. I think she's fantastic. I love her to the point of reading her Tweets and checking out her ad campaigns for Quick Trim or Forever 21. But the whole reason I like her so much is her mom, Kris. This woman deals with 20 million kids everyday and manages to not kill any of them. She doesn't even try to kill her husband, Bruce Jenner. Kris Kardashian-Jenner, or whatever she's calling herself, is a cool mom who tries to teach her kids values in rich-kid environment, and she succeeds on a variety of levels. But that's for another post. Back to Kim...

The thing is Kim is sort of unintentionally funny, I like her clothes, and she's starting to (ever so slowly) behave like an actual person. So in reality, even if our realities are as far away from her's as the moon, the only reason someone wouldn't like Kim is because they don't have all the cool stuff she has.

I am therefore retiring Bitches Talkin' Shit in terms of Kim.

Keeping it real,
Shelly