I haven't kept up with the Kardashians

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I have a confession to make: I haven’t kept up with the Kardashians. Sorry.

I wasn’t going to mention this because I didn’t want to upset anyone, but keeping up with the Kardashians just hasn’t been one of my priorities during this century. In fact, I’ve tried to ignore them. Please forgive me.

I know, I know, there was a very popular show that was literally created to help you keep up with the Kardashians. It ran for twenty seasons. But I didn’t watch a single episode. Apologies, I am trash.

The thing is, I’m not living a Kardashian-free existence. I’ve tried to, but you know the deal with these fucking Kardashians, don’t you? They’re relentless about being kept up with.

The first time I heard about the Kardashians was during the OJ Simpson murder trial, which was the trial of the last century. I was in high school, so I didn’t pay much attention, but my mom was riveted by the trial. She couldn’t stop talking about all the weird Simpson trial side characters, including Robert Kardashian. He was one of OJ’s best friends, and since he was also a lawyer, Robert Kardashian joined OJ and the Dream Team at the defense table because that’s what star-fucker friends are for.

By the way, star-fucker isn’t an insult, not for a Kardashian. To a Kardashian, star-fuckery is an ethos. Consider the most famous Kardashian, Kim. She launched her career by making a sex tape with a mid-level rapper, married an A-list rapper, and ultimately transcended both of those guys. She also broke the internet with her butt. That’s power!

Back when Kim Kardashian was making headlines with her sex tape, I was a reporter working for an adult trade publication. My editor asked me if I wanted to cover the story, but I passed.

“Give it to someone else,” I said. “I’ve been trying to ignore the Kardashians since the OJ trial.”

“Good luck with that,” my editor said.

At the time, I thought my editor was earnestly wishing me luck in my endeavor to lead a Kardashian-free life. But a few months later, Keeping Up With the Kardashians premiered. The struggle has been real ever since.

With hundreds of hours of mindless television to concoct, every Kardashian came out of the woodwork. But unlike your basic reality TV families, the Kardashians are masters of commerce. Their empire grew quickly, colonizing the brains, bodies, and bank accounts of half the planet.

As far as I know, I didn’t buy any Kardashian shit. And I definitely didn’t watch the show. But in 2015, I was forced to catch up with the Kardashians. At the time, Christina and I lived in a great apartment that was managed by a moron. Our neighbor’s unit sprung a leak that caused water damage to the ceiling in our living room. The issue should’ve taken two days to repair, but on the eighth day of that two-day job, the moron who hired these morons explained his process for sourcing vendors.

“I hear what you’re saying about never using these guys again,” our building manager said. “But let me tell you something, Michael, and I know this is hard to believe, but these guys are the best. Seriously, they are the best. They do work for the Kardashians. The Kardashians! Know what I mean? The best.”

When you live in Los Angeles, these kinds of celebrity encounters aren’t uncommon. I once saw Fabio devour a hamburger at Carney’s on Sunset. I stood behind Neil Patrick Harris in line at the Ben & Jerry’s in Sherman Oaks. At a coffeehouse in West Hollywood, I saw Leonard Nimoy order a latte! But those kinds of celebrity sightings are the stuff dreams are made of in this town. Keeping up with the Kardashians via mutual vendors, not so much.

Enter Jose, our heating and cooling vendor. Unlike, the painters our moron apartment manager hired, Jose knows his shit. He came out last week to make sure our AC was running in tip-top shape because the summers in Los Angeles make the winters in hell seem pleasant.

“It’s hot up on the roof,” Jose said.

The man was sweating bullets, so asked if he wanted a drink. Jose could’ve had a water, or a Coke Zero, but he chose a coconut La Croix.

“Thanks for the drink, Michael. A lot of people aren’t so nice.”

“Some people are assholes,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

I was about to tell Jose about it, but instead he told me.

“I cover the entire West Valley all the way to Calabasas,” he said. “Lots of rich people, lots of celebrities.”

Even before he said it, I knew Jose was going to bring up the Kardashians. There are lots of celebrities in Calabasas, but most of them keep low profiles. Not the Kardashians, though. They want you to keep up with them, even if you can’t exactly keep up with the Joneses of Calabasas.

“I do the heating and cooling for the Kardashians,” Jose said. “Have you heard of them?”

Heard of them? I can’t avoid them, and I really am trying my level-best to live a Kardashian-free life.

“They’re total assholes,” Jose said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, major assholes.”

“Honestly, I haven’t kept up with them.”

“You’re living right, Michael.”

Stick around and chat!

You know the drill. I have questions, you have answers.

1. Have you kept up with the Kardashians? Explain yourself and prepare to be (gently) mocked.

2. If you’ve managed to live a Kardashian-free life, what’s your secret?

3. What’s your best non-Kardashian celebrity sighting? Does it beat Mr. Spock drinking a latte?

4. The coconut La Croix was a bold choice, right?

5. When someone does work at our house, I always offer them a drink, especially if it’s hot outside. It’s the polite move, plus I sometimes get a story in exchange. Why don’t more people do this?

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