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an open letter to kourtney kardashian

hi kourtney,

thanks for taking the time to read this.  i know we’ve never met, and – to be honest – i’d be lying if i said that i had any earthly idea who you are.  i’m not actually sure i’d ever heard of you before today, when your security guard threatened my cousin and i for having the nerve to walk by a restaurant where you were eating.  you know the guy… the italian-looking one in the dark suit and earpiece who thrice issued us a stern warning that we’d “better keep moving” and stepped aggressively in our direction, payback for the considerable transgression of looking into the window of a restaurant to see how long the wait was for a table.

wow, kourtney!  now THAT is some high-level security, and i can only imagine the monumental achievements with which you’ve blessed the world around you during your lifetime… the type of accomplishments that warrant 24/7 protection from the mere footfalls of a 31-year-old, 5’9″, 156-lb, gay, wholly non-threatening jew.  perhaps you’re a nobel laureate?  or maybe a chart-topping pop star that has somehow escaped my attention?  oooh, or i bet you’re a literary wunderkind whose debut novel has topped the new york times best-seller list for months straight.

i’m intrigued!  and in fact, i’m going to google you right now and find out for myself just why you are so noteworthy…


ok, let’s see… your dad was a famous lawyer.  and your stepdad is a former olympian…

i see a picture of you, and it appears that you have… breasts.  so good job there.

(scratches head)

is that it?

i asked some friends who you were: my friend amanda says that you own a boutique in soho, where my friend jill says you peddle not-cute things.  my friend stephen told me that and that your sister was the star of a sex tape.  is this why you’re famous?

oh, here it is!  wikipedia told me that you were the “star” of a reality program, in which viewers were faced with the formidable task of “keeping up” with you as you, you know… exist amid considerable wealth and, if photos are to be believed, a generous slathering of self-tanner and teeth-whitening toothpaste.

hmm.  not impressed.

and, kourtney, since i now know so much about you, let me tell you a little bit about me… and i’ll give you the short version: i moved to new york city one year ago, at age 30, and spent six months holding down two menial jobs (working 14 hour days 3 days/week with no days off) so that i could afford to a) eat and b) take the subway.  it wasn’t fun, and i ate more canned food than i care to admit.  in the subsequent six months, i’ve landed a new job, and worked my way up into a position of relative financial comfort, pending home ownership and considerable corporate responsibility.  i still work 10-12-hour days, on average, and sleep poorly.

oh, and i’m really don’t think i’m all that special – some people have it harder than i do, some have it easier – but i think i’ve done a lot in the past year and even take an incredibly small, incredibly rare measure of personal pride when i consider my accomplishments.  i’ve pulled myself up by my bootstraps (not louboutin… for shame!) when things were tough, and emerged as a stronger and more dignified person on the other end.

and i’m pretty damn sure i can walk down whatever street i like.

in a nutshell, i think the equation is all wrong and that, just maybe, you should be keeping up with me.  wake up with me at 5:30 a.m.  make ends meet with me using money you’ve worked hard to acquire.  come with me as we compare prices at duane reade to ensure that we’re getting a good value on laundry detergent, and then do your own laundry during the wee hours of the morning (when the laundry room isn’t crowded).  eat mac’n’cheese every once in a while to save money before we go out.

this’ll be fun!  ready to go?  give me your phone number and we’ll get you on the ajp program immediately… and if you’re lucky, i’ll let you pick up the tab when we eat a rushed lunch in our offices before heading off to our next meeting (though can we please order from someplace other than kitchenette?).

awesome.  great.  see you soon!


p.s.  for the record, my cousin is slightly taller than i am and possibly a bit more physically imposing, but he’s a solid gentleman with two careers – and i’m pretty sure the most nefarious thing he’s ever done was order pepperoni pizza to our temple during yom kippur services in high school.  it was brilliant and hilarious.


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