kim k a lister

I don’t need to learn anything from anyone. I’m a fashion designer, I think I know a little bit more about fashion.

Are you? I couldn't tell.

Maybe, but that still doesn’t make it a good look.

She could be ahead of her time. You know how quickly trends die and make a come back, you could learn something from her.

"The conversations these women have will kill me. How could anyone be so vapid and dull?"

What else do you expect from the city? Everyone's a model.

Whoever thinks velvet flare jeans are in style need to seriously hire a stylist ASAP. I just saw a woman in a pair, it was truly horrifying. Maybe she dressed herself in the dark this morning?

Maybe she's a loose canon cop on the edge who doesn't play by the rules.

Oh, please, that’s much better than the fake modesty thing, I swear, some of these people you have to compliment three times before they admit they know how hot they look. Me? No, no, I’m a mess, a disaster, a proper wreck  — only joking. Yeah? Did the buttons and clasped your own belt and everything? I’m very impressed, love.

You'll never have to worry about that from me. I'm aware, and I'm too big a fan of praise to pretend otherwise. Even jokingly, calling yourself a mess, a disaster, or a wreck is borderline blasphemy. I know, I know. I'm incredibly self sufficient, which is more than half of the people in here can say.

Then go drink until you no longer feel the need to whine.

I'm not whining. I don't whine.

You look fucking spectacular! Who dressed you?

I don't want to come off as a cocky asshole and tell you I already know, but, well, I knew. I don't look half as good standing next to you though, I'm almost tempted to walk away because of it. But to answer your question, I dressed myself.

 I need a drink. I need a drink— right now. Please?

Are you confusing me with someone else? You have to be.

Jeepers Creepers! The joint sure looks swell. It’s absolutely the bee’s knees!

Oh god no. I didn't drink enough to prepare for this. It's always someone.

Do I look particularly unintelligent? “The Hef.” I need to meet the guy, failing that, I need a week off at his place.

You're a model. It's typically an accurate assumption. Someone like you should be able to walk right in, shouldn't he?

"And you look like you pay too much to look homeless. Your point?"

I was asking a question, I didn't really have a point. You should try not to be so sensitive.

Keep a little black book, when you’re shriveled and old someone will find it and read it to you, then you’ll remember your youth and promiscuity. I wonder if Hefner’s done this.

If there's one thing I want to remember when I'm old with one foot in the grave, it's my youth and promiscuity. You might be smarter than you look. The Hef's got double d's whispering his former conquests in his ears. He doesn't need the book.

You have to sleep with the prettiest girls, even if they can’t make any conversation or don’t want to cuddle after. You’re not allowed to eat anything that you aren’t currently endorsing. You can’t remember the last time you had the privileged of doing your own hair. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. What was it that Karl Lagerfeld sad about sweatpants? They’re a sign of defeat.

See, you get it. It's almost as if you're one of us. And you refuse to accept defeat. I can respect that. Especially if you don't write anything too mean about me.

"Do a five-second Google search, dude. They came to just under the knee."

I was kidding. Do you google a lot? You seem like the type.

Virginal princess? Seriously, Preston? Just because some women dress well for themselves rather than to attract a partner, doesn’t meant that they are some unicorn in the urban wilds. I know this might be a novel idea to you, but have you ever tried talking to a girl beyond shallow flirting? You might not have to buy the entire bar to get her to like you if you show some interest in a person rather than objectify them as a means to an end.

Now you're just being ridiculous. Do you hear yourself?

My big head is on the covers of things behind the cashier. You can point to them now when you’re buying condoms and stuff, and go “Hey I know that guy.” Nice to meet you.

I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I fully intend on bragging about it. You may be the one on the cover, but if you're not there I might as well reap in your benefits.

That’s hot. I never really factored in the great difficulties and hardships of a socialite. I think my eyes have been opened. You’re like… regular people, just with invites to better parties.

Exactly. Finally, someone who gets it. And it's harder than people think, I'm never allowed to frown and sometimes I have to be seen with products that aren't even worth it. Sweatpants are never acceptable, and I imagine you don't have that problem. Is that part of your work uniform? It should be.