Oh ha ha ha, very clever, covering me up with the letter B. B for BUTT, right? Hilarious. Send the art department my regards. Tell them I hope Jimmy the Typography Intern got a raise.
Frankly, I thought I deserved better than that. For all the attention I've sent your way over the years, Kim, I'm pretty sure I'm worth more than this cheap-ass silver paint. Jesus, I can't even breathe in this stuff. Have you never heard of skin asphyxiation? Don't you remember how that chick died in Goldfinger? HELLO.
Kim, am I not an epic contribution to society? Have I not brought you fame and fortune by virtue of my shape and size alone? Do I not seemingly defy the very laws of physics?
I just can't understand what we're doing here coated in aluminum foil like a baked potato. I feel completely goddamned ridiculous. I mean, you can see my follicles, which, by the way, hurt like hell. Can we take a break with the laser hair removal? You'd think I had a Yeti shoved up in here, the way you're always going at me with that wand.
Listen, I know you're proud of your curves, as you should be. It's just that I think there's more to you. More to us. I feel like this relationship ... well, it feels codependent, Kim.
There. I finally said it. God, it's such a load off my sphincter.
I want you to be proud of me, Kim, but it's time you started showing me some respect. Don't cheapen what I mean to you with "artistic" photo spreads. I'm telling you, it's a slippery slope from body paint to Coco, okay? Please, for the love of all that's hole-y, don't turn us into Coco.
Well, thanks for listening, Kim. I have to go—my fans await, after all—but stick around for a second. The tits also have a couple things to say.
Image via WMagazine.com