My plan for Saturday was set in stone: a mimosa and my hammock, except it got blown to all hell when I realized that my remote actually worked. After a few simple clicks, I landed on My Life on the D List. I've seen Kathy Griffin many times before, but never actually invested the time for a marathon. So my mimosa and my tanning (rather lobstering) was briefly put aside as I watched Kathy decide to destroy her house with no plan and was briefly concerned her mother might have had a heart attack when she found out she ripped out the bar. Up next La Griffin went topless to be airbrush tanned at a Kiddie Pagent and then she headed to Alaska to chill with her soulmate Levi Johnston (yes, Bristol Palin's baby daddy). Kathy's life on the D list was a hilarious train ride to wreckville and I couldn't look away...until I flipped a channel and found the Kardashians.
I've got one gripe with the full family show: why don't they bring Bruce anywhere? As Kris recounted to him the story of a drunken Scott shoving a hundred dollar bill down a waiter's throat, he casually repled "You're lucky I wasn't there. I would have punched Scott right in the face." And the ratings would have sky rocketed. Speaking of Scott, he's like the Spencer Pratt of their lives but better because he's a parent. I don't think I've laughed harder than when he walked in on the sisters trying to administer a butter remedy to a home bikini wax burn. He simply stood there holding his son, observing the situation taking place atop his kitchen counter top and offered one simple thought:
"This is normal?"
It's so not and that's what makes it so awesome. Whether it's Gordon Ramsay screaming at a poor chef over scallops, Kathy Griffin taking make-up tips from a 7 year old (she needs 100 glitter, please) or Khloe Kardashian telling her brother-in-law that he's a sociopath with murder in his eyes, I love knowing that the "normal" lives of these people make me seem...well, normal.
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