Something completely meaningless

Recently, Stephen and I bought a new bed. We had gone to a department store with hopes of starting a wedding registry and ended up buying a king ensemble for the price of a single. We were so excited, and so glad to have found such a bargain, and we couldn't wait to pick it up.

Sunday afternoon, we drove to the aforementioned store, found the woman who had sold us the bed, and asked if we could pick it up. She replied, Oh, we can't get anything from the docks today because of Kim Kardashian.

What?

There had been a Kanye concert the night prior, and Kim Kardashian had accompanied her husband. Which still, for us, was not adding up. But apparently, due to Kim's presence in the neighborhood, extra gates had been placed in front of the store's loading docks and had yet to be removed.

We literally couldn't get our bed, because of Kim Kardashian.

I don't listen to Kanye's music, and I've never been one to keep up with the Kardashians. The power of pop culture, though, is that it can infiltrate our lives regardless of our tastes or lifestyles. What I love about this story, the story of how Kim Kardashian kept us from getting our first bed, is that it's both a complete throwaway and absolutely relevant.

I've taken a grand total of one [read '1'] pop culture class in all my tertiary education; I thought it was fascinating, but I don't pay attention much of it. To be honest, I find the whole idea that someone's life is more important than mine simply because of his or her status or wealth or ability to always look #flawless ridiculous. I think celebrity crushes can be the drive behind an unhealthy idea that famous people matter more than regular people. And I don't understand why our own lives seem so boring that we have to live vicariously through a life that is created to look a certain way.

I understand the need for pop culture. And truth be told, sometimes I get caught up in it (like now, for instance). I think it's a really cool phenomenon to watch, seeing how our world thrives and shapes itself around something as flighty as general interest. The story of how Stephen and I couldn't get our bed because of Kim Kardashian feels silly. It's an after-dinner speech, an anecdote at Christmas time. It's meaningless. At the same time, though, it means so much.

At least we got our bed.