How “Kim Kardashian: Hollywood” Ruined My Life (Or At Least My Vacation)

d9aafbc7ebd9ed655ea27050842750a1So I’ve mentioned before that I am an aficionado of social games– what simple flash platforms lack in amazing graphics they make up in spades in addicting gameplay– and I’d been seeing this little iPhone game mentioned quite a bit in the online media, so having reached an impasse or a state of boredom in most of the games I mess around with on my phone, I decided to see what all the fuss was about.  I have never watched a single episode of Kim Kardashian’s reality show, because Reality Show.  I don’t watch them.  I couldn’t really call myself a fan of hers in any way, since I mostly know her through the gossip rags as that chick who was married to some basketball player for like 70 days before marrying Kanye and having a baby named North West.  But, I figured it would be something to pass the time riding shotgun on a long road trip, so I went ahead and downloaded it.  S&G, baby.

I test drove the game the night before we left.  It looked like a big snooze to start.  After “kustomizing” my avatar with a cool Elsa braid, leather leggings and a big pink Flashdance sweater, I was plopped down in a retail job at the So Chic Boutique, where the manager was kind of a douche and I was stuck folding clothes and having to close the place down alone.  On my way out the door I fortuitously bumped into Kim K herself, having a wardrobe malfunction and literally begging to be let into the now-closed store.  She was so grateful that she invited me to come with her to the photo shoot she was headed to, and after a quick costume change made my way to the shoot, where it turned out she ambushed me with love by making me the star of the spread.  She even invited me to her house.  Not much later, I made the mistake of getting friendly with one Dirk Diamond at a club, and met up with this uberpsycho skankbeast named Willow Pape who accused me of trying to steal her already-ex-boyfriend and then publicly trashed me on the game’s version of Twitter.  Since her attacks were pretty lame, I took the high road with my publicist (yes, Kim set me up with a manager and a PR rep) and didn’t take the bait.

So far I was enjoying myself, which was more than I expected, so I went to sleep with a smile on my face.  Only when I woke up I found that I had forgotten to pack the night before whilst I was playing the game, so I had to rush getting ready to leave, still groggy from a Kim K-hangover.  I didn’t open the game again until we were on our way, and was crestfallen to find that, having run out of energy in the middle of a photo shoot, I got a lousy rating for the shoot and lost fans.  Not Kool.  Wandering the streets of downtown LA, my avatar found an adorable kitty named Charli, which I didn’t have enough K-stars to adopt.  K-stars?  Uh, yeah, that’s the premium currency in the game, which it’s pretty stingy with, only handing them out when you level up or complete REALLY important projects.  I had wasted some K-stars using charm on some nobody or other (charm costs K-stars too), so my next personal objective was getting the 20 stars to rescue *MY* kitty, which I kept visiting for no reason other than to hear its sweet little meow, because Krazy Kat Lady.  Meanwhile I wondered if maybe the occasional bird I kept seeing was adoptable, only to find that instead they spit cash, experience points, and even the occasional energy point.  This was a Major Revelation.  In curiosity I started wildly tapping on every decorative object and was pleasantly rewarded with goodies from fire hydrants, restaurant signs, shrubberies, and even bicycles and shop dummies;  I’m oddly proud to report I’ve not once had to pay for energy in the game.  Satiated, I passed out in the passenger seat, still kitty-less but glad I’d at least found a free source of energy.

I missed most of the car trip due to sleep or a rather ill-advised in-game shopping spree; one of my next assignments was to buy a condo in Hollywood, when I’d already blown most of my cash on clothes and bling.  We arrived at our destination, and the hubby and Fluffy Stepson set up a tent while I sat on my butt in the sunshine, annoyed at the glare on my screen because I was trying to get ready for a big birthday bash Kim was throwing for me in Vegas.  Phone died.  Ahh, craptastic.  Went to charge it in the car.  Hubby and stepson went shopping for snacks and drinks while I started a new game on my tablet, hopefully having learned from my earlier mistakes not to waste K-stars or cash.  When they got back, my phone was at a 50 percent charge, which was Good Enough;  I’d already gotten so far in the game on the phone that I was feeling discouraged back at square one on the tablet.  While the phone was charging, my in-game boyfriend, a writer Kim had set me up with, had decided he was tired of waiting for me and we broke up (tear).  I resolved to do better in my next relationship, to carve out time from my busy schedule for dates and such.  The RL hubby rolled his eyes at my misery, while the Fluffy Stepson looked at what was holding my attention, gave me a deadpan stare, and said “SERIOUSLY?”

Seriously.

Cuddled in a sleeping bag with the fam and yet unable to sleep, I fished out the phone again as the others blissfully snoozed.  Willow Pape was trash-talking again, but I still loftily ignored her and did photo shoot after photo shoot until the phone died again, leaving me hanging mid-shoot having earned only two stars out of five on the gig.  I think I slept a little after that, but with a sense of regret for letting down my fans.

Next day we went for a round of geocaching, and I was pleasantly surprised that hours of staring at a tiny animated screen seemed to have sharpened my observational skills– I made the first three finds of the day.  My phone charged to an anemic 75 percent, I made the discovery that liquor bottles spew energy points.  As we made a difficult uphill climb I glanced up from my device to find that the guys had left me in the dust while I was changing into a champagne-colored evening gown Kim had given me for my birthday, and while I quickly toggled back to the geocache app to cleverly hide what I had been doing, I had to shout them down so I could catch up.  My husband accused me of being out of shape.  My stepson gave me a knowing look and shook his head.  “Really?” he asked me quietly.

Really.

Back at home base, I was peeved to find that I couldn’t play the game while my phone was charging due to a faulty cord;  it charged just fine, but it wouldn’t register any swipes or taps on the screen while it was plugged in.  I resigned myself to playing in fits and starts, checking in to find I’d only gained five energy points in the interim, so I started using my game time to run all over SoCal like a madwoman, digging in hedges and poking birds, scooters, planters and even people for even a little bit of that lightning-bolt-shaped crack known as energy.  By the time we were ready for our evening jaunt to the amusement park, I had a runway gig under my belt (I made sure to invite Willow’s ex, Dirk Diamond, to model with me), had completed a level of the Barfly achievement (points for getting smashed!), made it to the D-List (finally!), and thrown a drink in Willow Pape’s stupid face.  I felt accomplished enough to enjoy some rides and some awesome amusement park food (though I must admit that I started a photo shoot during the food breaks– thankfully it was a three-hour job).  I was tired enough to go right to sleep, but not before checking my K-star total (still not enough to adopt Charli the kitty; le sigh) and say yes to a Really Important Gig with a Really Important Dude named Marcel that my agent would call me about in eight hours– just enough time to get some shuteye before we headed home.

The trip home was uneventful in the real world but quite productive in Kim’s world.  I completed the Really Important Gig, went on a date with a new guy (a fashion designer), was given a job managing Kim’s Kardash store, and was ordered by my publicist to purchase a home in Miami for the steep price of 6,000 cash (at least it wasn’t K-stars).  Phone conked out again, and I went to sleep.

Back home I checked in on my usual retinue of Facebook games, but found them weirdly lame.  I ended up poking at my phone while sitting in front of my computer, meeting up with yet another new guy, this one royalty from an obscure country, and feeling ecstatic joy when the game announced a weekend K-star event in which the prize currency would be awarded for each five-star job completed.  Thanks to this bounty I finally adopted Charli only to discover I couldn’t take her with me to my new Hollywood condo– she preferred my old downtown apartment, but rewarded me with cash and energy for pets.  I finally got around to buying some furniture for my pad (the one downtown, since my beloved kitty stays there), fought with Willow the HoeBag Pape in a Vegas nightclub (got her kicked out and it was all over Twitter– BOO-YAH!), and actually bought out the So Chic Boutique from my cranky old boss.  I still haven’t scraped up enough cash to buy the house in Florida, but I think I might be able to scav it up tomorrow sometime.

My brain is fried.  I hate you, Kim Kardashian, but I don’t have enough energy for that, so I guess I love you.  Anyway, thanks to your awesome horrible amazing disgusting beautiful game, my life is forever changed.  I am fabulous.  I crap glitter and fart rainbows.  I may even start watching Kim’s TV show.  They’re busting out the ice cubes in Hell.  What have you done to me, Kimmy???

 

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