A young professional’s take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.
By Nina Pajak
I will admit that I spent a slow Saturday afternoon not long ago watching the Kardashian wedding special in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the $90 billion, gilded, shiny, black and white, elegant affair, inspired by an apartment set from a 1980s-era Michael Douglas movie. Mostly, I really like to see other people’s floral arrangements and was curious how they’d incorporate all those ice-cube sized
hunks of glass diamonds into the Peking duck cocktail hour station. Turns out they wrapped them into the spring rolls and ate them.
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Noooo, just kidding. Turns out they never got to the actual wedding during the 12 hours that I
forsook the value of my own life watched. At a certain point it became a bus stop situation. You know, when you’re waiting for the bus for, like, a MILLION YEARS and it still hasn’t come, but it should be any minute now and if you leave it will definitely show, but how long do you keep waiting before you give up and just say “screw it” and get on the subway? Know what I’m talking about? Exactly.
Anyway, I watched Kim and Kris fight with Kourtney and Kris and then Kris fought with Kris but not before Kim fought with Kourtney. Or was it Khloe? I think she was fighting with Karly or Koffee or Knut. Perhaps it was Kiki. Aw, you guys! That’s totally what Kim and Kris would have named their child if she had been a girl. Or a boy, you never know with these celebrities.
Wait, who are these people again? I forgot again. Whoever they are, their failed and allegedly fake and certainly forced marriage have called into question everything I thought I knew about love, monogamy, and the integrity of reality television. Not necessarily in that order, though it’s possible.
Those krazy kids. We ought to take it easy on them. How many of us haven’t thrown a $50 jillion televised wedding only to shake loose from the glitter and krystals 72 days later to realize that you’re kinda like, “eh,” on the guy? Have a heart. It koulda happened to any one of you.*
Let’s move on to more important things. Like, anything. Hermain Cain! Sexually-deviant, underqualified pizza godfather or underestimated political genius? Go.
*Assuming you have $50 jillion and an E! television series, of course.
Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I’m always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.
Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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