Kim and Kandi embarked last night on their three-city bus tour. And the way Kim said goodbye to her older daughter Brielle you'd think she was leaving for Iraq. "I have to go," Kim moaned, as Brielle looked over her mother's shoulder at Sweetie and grasped for the assistant's hand. "Why does Sweetie have to go along?" sobbed Brielle, who I'm pretty sure doesn't have a future career in the dramatic arts. Meanwhile Arianna, who'd rightly declared her mother's fame meaningless, was jumping on her canopy bed in her rhinestone sunglasses and her mother's lucite heels, dreaming up badly misspelled Facebook status updates about how 8ers are lame.
Kim seemed stunned by the demands of life on the road. There wasn't enough room for both her and Sweetie in the bathroom and the little bunks could barely fit her cartons of Kools. When Kandi's overzealous assistant Don Juan—would it kill someone on Kandi's team just to go by Robert or Michael?—told Kim there was no smoking on the bus she about fainted. Clever girl, she finagled a deal with the bus driver in which she wouldn't tattle on him getting loaded behind the wheel if he turned a blind eye to her lighting up. Rock and roll!
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