Today I found a purpose to my life, and the purpose came in the form of Keeping up with the Kardashians. Trapped in my dull silent living room, the Kardashians saw their chance and launched themselves onto my unsuspecting television screen. My cat, AKA professor of Economics Puzzle Hussein, was lying on top of the remote control, staring listlessly at me from the other side of the room. “Seriously?” I asked her as the theme tune set in. She narrowed her eyes at me and I wondered aloud how many other people had been tricked into liking a TV show by their cat. Not many, I supposed. Probably just me.
Having slept for around 13 hours the night before, I was far too drained of energy to retrieve the remote from her paws. This is the very kind of situation that leads to bad things in my life. Like the time I was going to go out and write that award winning screen play and then the cat put a Gavin and Stacey marathon on and I watched it for SIX HOURS while the beautiful blue sky outside grew darker and darker. But I just don’t learn, do I?
I’m aware of the Kardashians. As an avid Daily Mail reader, I’m very familiar with the way Kim Kardashian “flaunts her curves” in various outfits. The thing is, just because I sold my soul to read it, doesn’t mean I have to click on every story the Daily Mail Showbiz column offers me, so I often ignore the Kim Kardashian related stories. All the same it’s interesting to note how her and her fame hungry family have somehow infiltrated my brain despite my determination to avoid them. I know that Kim Kardashian’s mother is Kris Jenner. I know that her stepfather is Bruce Jenner. I also know that she has two much younger half sisters by her mother’s marriage to Bruce and that they have done a few too many bikini shoots for my liking but, heyho, Kris Jenner knows best! More importantly, I know that Kim has a sister called Khloe and a sister called Kourtney and that these ladies are the prime target of their reality show Keeping up with the Kardashians.
So I do have sufficient knowledge of the Kardashian clan, but do I actively keep up with them? No. Until today. The premise was simple. Kris wanted the newly single Kim to throw a housewarming party but – uh-oh, look out, Kim’s a bit of a clean freak!!!!
This is the point in which I began to empathise with Kim and yes, I agree, it did not take very long. “I know I’m being way over the top,” Kim sighs in one of those cuts to reflective speeches to the camera that I wish they had in real life, “but I need to have some control at some point.” This is when I realised that Kim’s new house was a metaphor; her way of speaking in bland generalities in fact subtle clues. In a world where your mum is also your manager, how much independence do you really have? With rumours abound that Kris is the cause of Kim’s confinement since the birth of her daughter, whom she lovingly named after a compass, in order to build anticipation for the post birth debut on her chat show, I solemnly vowed to rescue Kim Kardashian.
After all we are very much alike. Because she is pretty. Like, so pretty. She reminds me very much of my old Barbie doll in her pink mansion except she looks like she could pass for a Hussein because of her shortness and hair removal dramas that those darn blonde haired blue eyed Barbie dolls never had to deal with. It’s no good slathering bleach on your upper lip now Barbie, you’ll never understand! It’s like I’m the fourth Kardashian sister, or however the hell many there are! The episode culminated in a mock food fight between Kim and her mother, who had been determined to trash the house as soon as she stepped in there (hmm, threatened much?). This fight was such a cry for help she practically wrote out the words, “save me” all over her mother’s face in icing. This symbolic struggle for freedom ended in victory for Kris and yet for how long? Even now I am booking my flight from Dagenham to LA to come and save you Kim. Well maybe tomorrow I will. You see I’ve been keeping up with the Kardashians for about 6 hours now and I can’t remember who my real family are…TO BE CONTINUED. Maybe, if I can be bothered.