M
ila Kunis has spent more than thirty years in front of cameras, yet the job that occupies a surprisingly large portion of her day isn’t a film set—it’s her own Los Angeles neighborhood. As the de facto head of the homeowners association, she receives every complaint that would otherwise go to a neutral management company in a typical subdivision.
In a recent interview with the Wall Street Journal, Kunis explained that the role started informally but has since become a steady responsibility. “I take the complaints,” she said, underscoring her position as the first point of contact for residents. Whether it’s a garbage can left out too long, a neighbor’s early‑morning noise, or a dispute over property upkeep, she is the person people call.
The job blends anonymity with instant recognition. Los Angeles residents, accustomed to industry figures living next door, often treat her as a routine contact. “They’re desensitized—it is LA,” she noted. Many neighbors are surprised to discover they’re speaking to the actress behind “That ’70s Show” and “Black Swan.” When contractors or vendors are called to inspect a damaged road or evaluate erosion, the reaction is usually a laugh followed by the realization that the request comes from Mila Kunis herself. “I know this is ridiculous, but please, can you give me a quote on this?” she says, and the humor fades as the task gets underway.
Beyond phone calls, Kunis acts as liaison, scheduler, and sometimes the neighborhood’s reluctant diplomat. She explains association rules, passes updates, and works to keep minor disputes from escalating. The position is unpaid and decidedly unglamorous, but she approaches it with the same pragmatism she brings to her personal life.
Her HOA duties fit into an already tightly choreographed morning. She wakes at 6:15 a.m., turns off her alarm, and immediately starts preparing breakfast and lunch for her two children before husband Ashton Kutcher drives them to school. Her exercise routine follows—Pilates, treadmill, or other workouts—though some days leave little time for self‑care. “Sometimes I shower and sometimes I don’t,” she admits, “sometimes I just have time to wipe my armpits.”
Living with Kutcher and their children, Kunis balances HOA responsibilities with early mornings, workouts, and a deliberately offline lifestyle. She watches TikTok anonymously for cooking videos and historical rabbit holes, avoiding public accounts to steer clear of “being fed information about myself.” Her voice remains her most recognizable feature in the neighborhood, a fact she noticed during the pandemic. “If I didn’t speak, I could go through the world unrecognizable. The second I opened my mouth, people were like, ‘Mila?’”
Kunis treats her HOA work with the same light touch she applies to social media. When asked whether she occupies a stabilizing role at home, she laughs and says, “If you ask my husband, absolutely not. If you ask me, of course.” Her tenure, like her career, is shaped by hard‑earned lessons. She keeps two pieces of advice close: “Don’t make permanent decisions on temporary feelings,” and “It’s OK to change your mind.” Both principles apply well to neighborhood politics.
In December, Kunis returns to the screen in “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery,” playing a police chief tasked with maintaining order amid chaos. The parallels between her on‑screen role and her off‑screen responsibilities are not lost on her. Whether on a set or in the HOA office, she remains the voice that keeps things running smoothly.
