The Kardashiad, Week 10: Rickshaws, Helicopters, Submarines, You Name It
Full disclosure: I still haven’t watched last week’s episode, which aired while I was on vacation, so I have no idea what it was about. Smart money’s on “ridiculous rich people doing rich-people things,” which is also what we’re presented with as this week’s episode opens. Kim and Kourtney climb aboard personal watercraft for some of the least-needed R&R in history, except someone’s tied some complicated-ass knots in the ropes securing the personal watercraft to the boat they’re moored to. Scott remarks on this repeatedly. Like, seriously, who tied up these personal watercraft with these goofy knots? You crazy for this one, knot-tiers! It’s not the greatest cold open. Eventually the knots are undone, and off Kim and Kourtney go, across the water and out of sight, and for a moment we all get to imagine what it would be like if they never came back, but they do. They always do.
Nighttime, Kim and Scott, in the black Rolls, Scott at the wheel. “I swear there must be something in our food,” Kim says. “Why do so many women my age have fertility problems?” Scott asks Kim if, in the event that she did become pregnant, she’d absolutely keep it; Kim says she can’t imagine doing otherwise. She says, “I feel like that would be a little selfish, to me,” so I guess she’s against it because only being a little selfish is not the Kardashian way? There is discussion of whether Kris Jenner would be an egg donor for Kim if push came to creepy gross insect-queen-hive birthing-matrix shove; Scott suggests that Kris, preferring to do things “the old-fashioned way,” would say, “Tell Kanye to come on over!” instead. Kim calls Kris, who tells her, “I haven’t had an egg since 1998,” and we’re spared further nightmare-fuel.
Another day, another car, an SUV, Scott in the back on his way to the airport for a personal appearance in Vegas, Miami blowing past through purplish polarized windows. Scott takes a call from his friend Benny, says, “Are you in Vegas yet?” and immediately touches his balls. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. I ran it back a couple of times. This is my job. Anyway: He’s going to Vegas, bros in tow, and he’s bringing his testicles, is the point of this scene. Scott makes another call: “Feinstein, what are you doing, you sick fuck?” (Michael? Dianne?)
Brandon and Leah Jenner drop by the Miami house for a visit on their way to play their music on a cruise ship. Great art finds its level. Khloe talks about her fertility struggles and how she doesn’t ovulate and how her “uterus lining” isn’t thick enough. Kourtney tells the talking-head camera that Khloe’s situation makes her sad. Meanwhile in Vegas — where sadness goes to drown itself in watered well-booze and wakes up face-down in a half-eaten room-service quesadilla — Scott’s at a club inside the Paris Las Vegas hotel/casino’s Eiffel Tower simulacrum, doing whatever it is people pay him to show up and do. Sometimes that means dressing even more like Patrick Bateman than usual and throwing money at people, but tonight it just means getting wasted — or at least, since there’s a cut here from Scott sipping a Bud Light bottle to him yelling “I love my Armenian friend!” and “Let’s get in this [bleeping] 1997 Town Car!” while presumably after-party bound, that’s the conclusion I’m drawing.
Back in Miami, Kim and Kourtney are still looking for a place to locate the new Dash store. The search for the new pope didn’t take as long as it’s taking Kim and Kourtney to settle on a new Dash store. It’s almost as if they have nothing else to do. Anyway, they seem to have found a place. It’s a store. Problem solved, maybe, which means Kim and Kourtney can go back to talking about Khloe’s uterus. Dash Director of Stores Slash Buyer Slash Long-Sufferer of All This Bullshit Roya Bahrami suggests that Kourtney could be Khloe’s surrogate, and somewhere in the control room at E! some producer blows the special reggaeton air horn they keep around for moments like this, when a B-plot presents itself, or “presents itself.” There is talk about how weird it would be for Kourtney to carry a baby the size of Lamar Odom inside her body, because that is how pregnancy works.
Scott comes home from Miami real faded and turns down dinner with Kourtney in favor of Gatorade and the returning of obviously phantom business calls. Kim and Khloe wrap themselves in cozy throws and talk a bunch of shit about Scott’s “double life.” Quick flashbacks: Scott getting handsy with Khloe/Scott falling in Chapman Ducote’s pool. Kim says maybe she should hire Jake, the private investigator from a few episodes ago, to follow Scott around and see what he’s up to. Khloe says this is probably a bad idea, and Kim says, “Yeah, you’re right,” and that’s the end of that. April Fool’s! What she actually says is, “We need to find out the truth. It’s our duty to, like, step in,” unable to suppress that smile that always creeps across her face when she’s about to chuck a grenade up into the tank-turret of somebody’s personal life. Kim just wants to watch the world burn, is the truth. “Nothing good could come out of Jake,” Khloe says, to nobody.
Khloe and the talking cow skulls in her dry-gulch Wild West ghost town of a uterus play hide-and-seek with Mason, spurring Kourtney to float the surrogacy idea past Scott, who’s not into it: “You don’t just go puttin’ babies in other sisters because you can!” The important thing about this scene is that Kourtney’s wearing some absurd neon-pink sweatsuit that says K-DOLL on the front; she identifies it as being from the Dash collection, because apparently it’s Flog the Brand Like a Recalcitrant Plow Horse Week this week.
Kim meets Jake the private eye at an Alaska Coffee Roasting. Jake (whose beard still looks like something you’d purchase at a Halloween store to complete your racist Ming the Merciless costume) tells her the teen runaway they went looking for a few weeks ago is “still out there.” Yeah, yeah, whatever — on to the meddling. Kim explains the situation, such as it is, and Jake says he’ll need her to provide Scott’s phone records and his credit card, and that he’ll need to know which car Scott drives the most so he can put a tracking device on it. Jake also warns her that things will never be the same if she goes down this road, but presumably this last part sounds like mere notes on a muted trumpet by the time it reaches Kim’s ears, because in the next scene there she is, opening the garage door so Jake can stick a transponder on Lord Disick’s Rolls.
Kourtney takes a call from a surrogacy specialist named Dr. Boostanfar, who talks to her about how easy being a gestational carrier is. Kim goes out to dinner with Jonathan Cheban at a restaurant where the waitress asks Cheban, “You love soul food, right?” Cheban says, “Who doesn’t, right?” and then Kim says, “I love me some ribs,” and at this point I black out for a few seconds. Kim tells Cheban that Kourtney’s going to be a surrogate for Khloe — presenting the news as if the decision’s already been made — and Cheban says he wants to cry at this news, and then Kim says she’s just kidding, but wouldn’t that be great? Then she laughs so hard she accidentally spits in her own hair. “You bring out emotion in me, and this is what I get back?” Cheban says. They have the OMG-imagine-Kourtney-pregnant-with-a-giant-freakish-Lamar-sized-baby conversation again.
Kim hangs out in the kitchen shooting the breeze with Scott like she’s not about to jump in a car with a private investigator and follow him around the minute he leaves the house, which is exactly what she does. Scott drives around for a while, then pulls up to “this really random home” and goes inside. Kim says that if Scott is going to do “something crazy” it’s her job to “put a stop to it,” as if there’s a possibility Scott’s double life involves plotting to assassinate a visiting head of state and plunge America into war rather than, like, handjobs.
Back home, Scott tries on a bunch of gold jewelry in Khloe’s room. They talk about New Jack City and Casino and how today is the birthday of Lamar’s son Jayden, who died of SIDS in 2009. I’m not going to make a joke about this because I’m not a monster, but according to Wikipedia Jayden was born in December, and according to Starpulse.com the Scott Disick Vegas appearance in this episode took place in September, so basically we have become unstuck in time. Something about this conversation prompts Scott to go and talk to Kourtney and tell her he’s rethinking his objection to the surrogacy thing, but when Kourtney brings this up to Khloe, Khloe’s not into the idea, so basically everyone involved in this story line’s been wasting their time and ours. A headline concerning Justin Bieber’s quarantined monkey scrolls by on the E! crawl. Pray for Mojo.
The next morning — or 11 weeks later, or during the Gold Rush, who even knows with this show — Kim and Jake are stalking Scott again. Kim’s bored, staring at her nails. Yeah, Jake says, that’s how detective work is. It’s not always exciting. Then he says he’s tailed people in “rickshaws, helicopters, submarines, you name it,” which actually sounds pretty exciting. Kim tells Jake that Scott’s going to Atlanta to hang out with Chapman Ducote at an auto race and they decide that Jake should follow him there. “If he’s a good boy, he’s a good boy. If he’s not, he’s gonna have to deal with the consequences,” and you can see Kim falling in love with this weirdo a little bit.
Atlanta! Or, y’know, Hampton, Georgia, anyway, where Scott pulls up to the scene toting a Louis Vuitton man-purse and proceeds to drink a hundred drinks and frolic on the roof of a golf cart and stuff. Chapman’s wife, Kristin, greets Scott by asking, “How’s it hangin’?” and Scott answers, “Low to the ground,” and Kristin’s two girlfriends both titter, which is about all you need to know about what kind of people Kristin’s two girlfriends are right there. Cue briskly edited Scott-drinks-all-the-drinks-in-Atlanta montage. And that’s it for Atlanta — the next time we see Scott he’s back home in bed in Miami. Kourtney wakes him up; he’s still remarkably drunk. Today’s the day Scott’s supposed to take delivery on a new Ferrari; Kourtney says she’ll drive him. “Look at me and tell me you love me,” he says to her, invasively and borderline-proctologically groping her butt while his Ferrari rolls off the truck. America! Kourtney insists on driving home.
Scott pounds a beer in the kitchen. Roya asks him, “Why do your eyes roll back when you drink a beer?” and Scott answers, “Because it reminds me of the first time I got a [bleep]job,” and Roya excuses herself from the breakfast nook because it’s getting too classy in there, I guess. Kourtney calls Bonnie, Scott’s mom, who agrees that her son (who’s about to turn 30) needs to find a means of supporting himself that doesn’t involve getting shithoused at personal appearances: “He’s done enough partying in his life.” Later, over salads, Kourtney says to Khloe that Scott “definitely has a drinking problem,” which anyone who’s watched this show for a while probably already figured out without enlisting the services of a pro shamus.
And that, as Robert Blake used to say, is the name of dat tune, except not really, because then Kim — toweling dry in her shoe-lair — gets a call from Jake, who’s back from shadowing Scott in Atlanta and says, “I have some stuff. I think we should meet.” Kim’s suddenly and visibly nervous, as if she’s only just now realizing that her decision to spy on Scott could have consequences. “As her sister, I don’t want to do anything that’ll tear up her family,” Kim says, voicing a qualm she didn’t seem to have when many, many people were basically telling her, If you do this thing it will tear up your sister’s family. So they meet, and Jake gets out of his car and into Kim’s, and after sighing, “I’m afraid I’m going to be putting you in a bad spot,” he gives her an envelope that appears to be full of 8×10 glossies, because sure, he could just show her the incriminating photos on an iPad or whatever, but when you pay for a private eye you’re really paying for the whole experience, and the 8×10 glossy is still the official photo-print format of SHOCKING PHOTOGRAPHS. Although of course we have to wait until next week’s season finale to find out how shocking and in what way.
Next week: We find out what Scott did, Kourtney finds out what Kim did, and most importantly, Khloe’s pissed that nobody listened to her.