Falling Behind

In the little flat I share with Saffy and Amanda, few issues divide us as deeply as the Kardashians.

            For those of you who came in late, Saffy and I are devoted fans of the entire family, or, as Saffy wisely points out, the entire franchise.

“Because it’s more than just the family,” she said once. “It’s the side freak shows of skanky girlfriends, dopey basketball boyfriends and drunk husbands, the parties, doctor visits, paternity tests. And let’s not forget to give thanks to Ryan Seacrest for having the foresight to produce the show in between his insanely busy schedule hosting a daily radio talk show and his multimillion dollar gigs on American Idol!”

So, to say we are fans of the Kardashians is like saying NASA is a fan of deep space exploration.

Meanwhile, Amanda is sitting on the fence. The Kardashians’ jet-setting lifestyle sucks her in like a Death Star tractor beam, but somehow, she feels that admitting, even casually, she has more than a passing interest in Kris and Bruce might mean society will turn against her.

“People judge!” she once observed with penetrating insight.

Saffy, who has never given a single moment’s thought to what people think about her, shrugged. “Who cares? It’s not like they’re paying your bills!” she replied with the kind of acumen that has been the motto of gold-diggers around the world since time began.

Amanda remains unconvinced, though this hasn’t stopped her sneaking in back episodes of ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ and ‘Khloe and Lamar’. She hasn’t quite made her way through to the Miami spin-off yet, but you can tell by the haunted look in her eyes she’s dying to know what Kim and Kourtney get up to.

“You know who you remind me of?” Saffy asked the other day. “You remind me of that Heath Ledger character in ‘Brokeback Mountain’! You know you want it, and you want it desperately, but you don’t want other people to know about how desperately you want it, and it’s killing you!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Amanda said, icicles practically forming around her words.

“Oh,” Saffy said, an evil glint in her eyes, “so you won’t be remotely interested in the pictures of Kim from her latest photoshoot then?”

“You mean the ones from Paper maga…” Amanda trailed off, recognizing she’d made a tactical error.

Saffy crowed in triumph. “Aha! That story only broke late last night and you knew about it already! I rest my case.”

To be fair, I pointed out, it was really hard to miss that story. Saffy pulled out her iPad and clicked on the link. And there she was. Kim Kardashian West in all her naked, full booty glory – gleaming with body oil in one shot, balancing a champagne flute on her legendary badonkadonk in another.

“How is she doing that?” Saffy asked with undisguised admiration.

“It’s got to be Photo-shopped!” Amanda said.

“You think? I remember that string bikini picture she Tweeted and that looked very similar to this one!”

“No one has a behind that you can balance a champagne flute on!” Amanda said firmly. “Even if you arch your back like that. And, by the way, that is not a natural pose!”

Of course, Saffy has never met a challenge she’s not risen to with enthusiasm, which is how she spent the next hour standing in front of a mirror, practically bent over as she pushed her bottom out while Amanda tried to balance a plastic cup on it.

“I’m getting a backache!” Saffy complained.

“This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever don't in our lives,” Amanda announced. “You are forbidden to talk about this to anyone. And you also can’t write about this, Jason!”

I nodded solemnly.

“I mean it!” Amanda snapped.

I nodded again.

Of course, Barney Chen thinks the whole thing is a hoot. “I love that woman!” he rumbled, his voice like colliding rocks. “That’s how you stay relevant! I wanna be her best friend and get our manicures done together!”

“That bum must be fake!” Amanda said, as we all looked at the photos again for the millionth time.

“Aiyah, sure fake, one, lah!” Sharyn pronounced once the fog on her Coke bottle thick spectacles had cleared up. “Where got bwat-bwat so big, one?”

Saffy was unconvinced. “But, Sharon, why would you Photoshop your ass to that size?”

“Because it’s quite nice, what! I like the shape of it! Wah, if I eh-ber come home with a bwat-bwat like that, my husband will be so happy, he sure die, one!”

Saffy, who has never liked to think of her best friend as someone with sex appeal, said if that image doesn’t put you off your char kway teow, nothing will.