Kimbertin. Bieberdashian. Justerly. So many choices. So little time.
One Twitpic of Kim Kardashian and Justin Bieber together at the White House Correspondents Dinner managed to rouse legions of undead Bieberites into clamoring for Kim's brains on a platter.
A tiny platter.
I fear Ms. Kardashian may not be much longer for this world. Well, fear might not be the correct word. Let's say I'm mildly indifferent to the prospect of her violent death at the hands of hormonal awkward smelly tweens.
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Bieber eventually got around to calming his horny, horny army of young girls, but not before referring to Kardashian as his girlfriend and "ideal lady." Child, child child. Listen. This is a brand of crazy you don't want to buy stock in. Lady has a sex tape. Have you seen it? You think you can compete? You don't think that ass won't chew you up for dinner?
You're young, inexperienced. Let me educate you. You see that butt in a Versace dress or whatever and think "wow, that's sexy." I see about 25 lbs. of BAGGAGE. I see ex-boyfriends who wear a lot of jewelry and have friends who are for real, literally, hitmen. I see a lady who's burned through a few trust funds and won't stop after yours. Back away slowly. Go talk to Chloe Moretz. She seems cool.
Side notes: Really? This Bieber thing is still going on? I assume these girls do not know that Jon Hamm is a person?
And the White House Correspondents Dinner? That's where these two met? That's like if the fated meeting between Neils Bohr and Werner Heisenberg as depicted in the play Copenhagen took place in the leggings section of American Apparel.
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