Sweet mother of all that is holy, somebody is putting the “ass” in Calabasas as of late, and no, it’s not the social pariah/mother of North West the Person, Kim Kardashian.
While it might not be the future Mrs. Kanye West, it is, however, a Kardashian: Robert.
Dear Christ, have you seen Armenia’s prodigal son lately?
The once actually hot male Kardashian has transformed into someone totally unrecognizable, a la Kevin Ferderline post Brit-Brit.
I know he’s been super busy
doing nothing working on his sock line, “Arthur George” (which doesn’t actually suck that bad, by the way. You should pick up a few pairs of the legwarmers and knee socks to wear under your riding boots), but dear God, has he completely written off every personal trainer who has ever come through the Kardashian/Jenner palace?
I don’t really know what else to say to Rob, other than I’m sure he’s done all the stress eating on his sisters’ behalf. I think he’s managed to gain the weight of both Kourtney’s pregnancies, and all of the lb’s Kim added when she was harboring Kanye’s offspring.
Listen Rob, stop whatever you’re doing, put the donuts down, stop ordering take out Chinese food, and move to NYC. Everybody knows your Kardashian trust fund is significantly less than your hotter, more famous sisters, so it makes perfect sense for you to up and move to the East coast. It’ll be perfect. You can transform yourself while everyone just confuses you for a fat pizza chef. It’s common knowledge New Yorkers are thin because they have to walk everywhere and can’t afford to eat. I think we all know what you need to do: trade in your Escalade for a Metro Pass, put down the Jamba Juice (NOT THAT GOOD FOR YOU, BY THE WAY. IT’S BASICALLY LIQUID PINKBERRY), and get the hell out of LA before you cause an Earthquake while moving forward in line at In-N-Out. Please go back to looking like this:
Yeah, you still looked kind of douche-y but at least you were a douche I’d sleep with.