TMI 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 7 Recap

In tonight’s episode, Beth overshares – in the sense that we’ve been over this before, a lot; in fact I feel like we’re getting scenes from past Bethenny franchises spliced in as filler. And in the sense that she’s doing that annoying thing of explaining information to people who know exactly what she’s referring to without needing the explanation, but of course the audience in theory needs the information all spelled out so as to create a storyline. No more fun at the airport Hilton with Good Times So tonight; it’s a rerun of Bethenny Tells All instead. Let’s get to it, shall we?

We’re still celebrating Mo’s birthday, because it’s all about MO and that’s how she’s going to drag this out: with a “ladies lunch” featuring RAMONA Pinot Grigio, a “Turtle Time” cake, and all her UES “real friends” who, to a one, look like small dogs facing into the wind out the driver’s side window. Also, the ‘Wives are invited. “Hi, Mama!” Holla chirps to Beth, instantly pissing her off. Beth starts muttering loudly about how she doesn’t want to be here and how it’s not her scene, which manages to come off as both “I feel out of place” and “I can’t stand these people” at the same time, as it was no doubt intended.

Beth sizes the women up as looking like they are from the Mos Eisley Cantina, which is altogether true and a surprising observation for a woman who does not have the amassed LEGO Star Wars collection This Little Mama does. So talks tofu-and-poo bullshit with her Swami priest, oddly wearing Chanel, and after making a plan to take some stabilizing medication and light another abundance candle informs Beth that she’s doing what Beth said she oughta. Then they all sit to dine, with the ‘Wives seated at their own table well apart from Mo’s real friends, Mo makes a toast, we all recoil in horror at the gold brocade epauletted fiasco Mo has selected from Barbie’s wardrobe for this occasion, the end.

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Time to move on to Beth’s Troubles, which of course bring her back to poor overtaxed Dr. Amador. Beth, who loves therapy, oddly apparently hasn’t seen Dr. Amador in all the time since she had her last Bethenny spinoff, despite this being the worst time ever in her entire life; which means he’s either (a) her TV-only therapist, or (b) we’re all pretending so as to weave together a more seamless Beth storyline and make it like we really picked up where we left off rather than like she left to do a talk show that sucked and came back with her tail between her legs rather than just move on into a quieter, fame-reduced sunset.

Without mentioning him by name (or including any of the footage from Beth’s Therapeutic Sailing Trip In Which She Was “Lost At Sea” in which Jason actually appears), Beth informs us that she feels “betrayed” by He Who Shall Not Be Named. Betrayal? When did betrayal factor into this? Did he “betray” her by not handing over the baby and disappearing like she wanted him to, or did he actually DO something (which I know none of us can believe he would, and that’s what she hates most about Jason in the first place). She didn’t trust her “gut feelings”, she tells Dr. Amador, who appears to agree with her that there was something not to be trusted about He Who Shall Not Be Named, and how can she ever trust again? Well, maybe she should trust the feelings she didn’t trust in the first place? I am confused. Whatever, he thinks she should go have a visit with her former stepfather and get out of his office because his next patient is waiting.

Radzi, Kristen and Lu go to watch boxing, because Radzi is really into boxing ever since she was on testosterone. Kristen gets hit in the inner thigh by a slobbery mouthguard and gets way into it. Mo shows up. Kristen makes a crack about how if Beth wanted to come she could have gotten a sitter, but she didn’t. Hey, I wouldn’t either. After the match, they go for drinks and Lu and Radzi bicker about Masterchef Junior. Lu tells Radzi she’s happy if Radzi’s happy. Which, of course, she now is not. S-N-O-R-E.

Back to Beth, because this whole season is really All About Beth and Mr. Andy getting his money’s worth. She’s arrived in Miami (like she flew Southwest) and is meeting up for a girls’ weekend with her best friends from high school; while she’s at it, she’s going to connect with the Kountess at Art Basel, and see her former stepdad. Her best friend, whose name I didn’t write down but who we met before at Beth’s wedding, arrives for drinks and to provide fake conversation to serve as background, specifically for the fact that the reason Beth hasn’t talked to her former stepdad since she was 19 is because there was an incident in which he shoved Beth around when she arrived with her mother and mother’s newest husband to collect some of mom’s stuff. So that’s why. But for as bad as Beth’s childhood was, and we know it was ghastly, getting unmarried is “ten times worse”, and it’s like she’s trying to escape prison. LAWD. Remember the movie from the 80’s where the kid tried to divorce her parents? This episode is going to be Exhibit A in Bryn’s emancipation case not long down the road.

Doritos and Mo go to the gym so Mo can show us how hot and healthy she is and make cracks about Fatso. The End.

Back in Miami, first we stop in at Art Basel so we can see Kountess Lu’s unwashed daughter Victoria and her nude self-portrait (which can be yours for the low-low-price of $2,000 in her Etsy store) and watch Beth feed a clown an ice cream sandwich. Lu gets all sniffy about how well Victoria has grown up, endured her parents’ divorce, and become successful (allegedly); I am so proud that I taught Big to sniff Flonase tonight. Lu tells Beth that the other girls feel like she’s not hanging with them and she says she’ll try harder and intimates she’ll hire a sitter to go out in the evenings when she has Bryn, which she totally will not.

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So does burpees in the bathroom of the SoStone while her stylist intern shows her shoes that she is going to take back once the camera leaves. The End.

Radzi is pretending to procrastinate on her next book and takes a call from Masterchef Junior who is going to bring her honey from Nicaragua. The End.

OK, back to business with Beth and her visit with her former stepdad. Beth walks like a duck. It seems the former stepdad was also a horse trainer and was friends with Beth’s biological dad which seems appropriate; by “horse trainer”, do we mean “tiny man”? They visit, it’s all fine, mostly it’s an opportunity for Beth to just accidentally share some more details of her dysfunctional childhood, such as: they moved a lot to avoid the Mafia people who stepdad owed money to from gambling debts; they took Beth to nightclubs; Mom tried to kill herself in front of Beth in the kitchen; they were all drunks who beat each other up; and Mom didn’t really want to be a mom. Basically, what we mostly knew.

Stepdad wants to know why Beth cares at this point, and she says it’s because she associates sex with violence now. Or that she expects sex to get violent. Or something like that, which gets dropped; Stepdad is mad that she never connected with him and thought she was blowing him off because she became a big success. Beth points out she didn’t connect with him until AFTER she became successful, to which Stepdad says “oh, yeah, duh”. The moral of the story: they all did the best they could, and holding resentment inside amounts to “drinking poison hoping the other person dies”. True ‘nuf. THE END. Can we be done with Poor Little Rich Girl now? We all have our shit, and this is not entertainment. I came for entertainment!

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Next time: So puts on her own She by Sheree fashion show; Mo claims Mario wants to come back to her; Beth and Radzi get weepy; and there’s a three-way between Lu, Mo, and Doritos over Fatso.

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Attack of The Repeater 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 6 Recap

Last year when Big’s organizational situation became untenable, we had an afterschool meeting with his teacher to clean out his desk and introduce him to the concept of “coming to Jesus”. It’s remarkable how he has retained clarity on this concept as so much other information, most of it relayed by me, has filtered in one ear and out the other like sands through the hourglass. So are the days of So’s life, and tonight Beth thinks she’s going to bring her to The Lord. I’m pouring myself a tall glass and buckling in.

We start inauspiciously at 10:38 a.m. with Holla, Kristen, and Doritos locked out of So’s house while Lady Morgan finishes packing. She requires undisturbed abundance for this enterprise so she doesn’t accidentally pack her “France” or “Aspen” underpants when she means to go for the “New Jersey” drawers. As it is raining hamsters and gerbils out on 72nd Street, the ladies are reluctantly permitted shelter in So’s unheated foyer area and Holla is absolutely in a snit over it. Having hauled So’s dimpled, drunken ass up five flights of SoStone stairs when Lady Morgan has been so deeply into the bag that she couldn’t find her way out on a leash, Holla is irate that now she’s unworthy of a couch cushion and a spot of tea. Hell, a glass of water would be enough.

After an hour of waiting a truly sleazy prom limo shows up and the restless, wet trio get on board to bitch some more. At 11:25, Beth finally shows up, full of excuses for how it takes so unpredictably long to get downtown to Tribeca to drop off her daughter (she must not be permitted to speak Bryn’s name as part of the custody agreement, because she never does) and return for this ill-advised field trip to Atlantic City. Doesn’t she have a Skinnysisstant who can do that? Or can’t she Uber her up a ride? I mean, it’s not like she can possibly be conducting a personal hand-off to Jason. Holla seethes.

The birthday girl, Mo, explodes into the limo and begins shouting demands for a wine opener for her trusty and ever-present bottle of RAMONA Pinot Grigio and becomes unreasonably salty when The Help, occupied shoveling the overpacking into the trunk, doesn’t step and fetch it quite quick enough.

And then, at 11:42, at long last: Lady Morgan emerges, yells at the jackhammerer across the street, assumes the position, and receives the death stare from Holla, claiming she was experiencing a family crisis because her sister, who was supposed to babysit the Snuffleupagus child, can’t show due to a death in someone else’s family. I don’t really understand this, nor do I understand why So had to sit telephone shiva with the sister over it and leave everyone else out in the street, nor why one of the interns can’t tend to Snuffy as they no doubt routinely do when Lady Morgan is on her daily bender.

Whatever, that was the “problem”, and So yells at Holla for being mad about it, because the easiest thing to do when someone inconveniently calls you on your shit is to deflect and make it their fault it bothers them. You are locked out on the street? “Then go to Starbucks!” she shrieks. There’s a whole lotta unpleasant back-and-forth about the car being late due to the SoScheduler’s ineptitude, the tendency of So’s ill-behaved dogs to run out into the street and be mown down by cars, whether So or Beth is really at fault for the whole thing, and how all this is really aggravating the extreme stress SoMo are experiencing! And, you know, Beth too! So cannot believe how petty Holla is being about being left out in the street; she has real friends, So does, who send her tickets to fly her all around the world because they cannot stand a minute without her scintillating company. Tickets! The world! Smoky eye! Updo! Gstaad!

Beth advises So to say she was unaware there was a problem and REGARDLESS she’s sorry for it, because that’s what decent humans do (brothers under the age of 12 have a bit of a challenge with this but we work on it.), so So does, begrudgingly. Having succeeded in that, Beth attempts to tackle So’s “smoky eye! updo! Gstaad!” Tourettian tic and warns her that it’s all starting to sound like “all show, no go”, and, possibly, even namedropping. {GASP} So nods and agrees with Beth that this could be possible with these low rent fools, because they have never “lived the life”. Or, no, Beth responds; it could just be because it does. And is. Doritos is paying rapt attention to this interchange and declares Beth “going for blood”. It’s serious.

It’s serious until Beth suddenly goes all hysterical that she has to pee HAS TO PEE RIGHT NOW STOP THE CAR! and starts climbing over bodies to reach the driver’s glass and pound for his attention. He obliges and pulls the stretch Infiniti QVC to the side of the road where she dramatically relieves herself, flashbacks to when she peed in an ice bucket backstage at her wedding and all. Back when she was cute, and funny, and we were all rooting for her, and willing to overlook how Beth, like the rest of us, could have gone into the stall and done it facing the wall without the camera; but of course, we do not share her need to go over the top at all times. Attention whore that she too might be, Mo can’t pee in the street, because she’s “like the poodle”. She needs a SheWee and her empty bottle of RAMONA. I’m tired of Beth’s relentless color commentary already and we’re not even to New Jersey.

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And then: we arrive! “Welcome to Atlantic Titty!” Doritos crows. Beautiful, scenic, worth-visiting Atlantic Titty. Ricardo Montalban welcomes them to the Borgata and shows them to their suites, upholstered in rich Corinthian leather. Doritos is trapped in the “High Roller” suite with SoMo where a Skinny Smorgasbord has been conveniently arranged on the credenza. Holla, Radzi, and Lu, the fun broads, are installed in the “penthouse”, which Holla immediately floods attempting to fill the Jacuzzi while waiting for the girls who were too smart to ride in the prom limo. Kristen, like Beth, is getting her own suite. I’m thinking those two just don’t like each other enough to be roomies.

After So gets herself pumped full of prosecco and farts, it’s time for dinner, for which they are all an hour late and this time it’s Holla’s fault, just sayin’. Kristen is wearing two different color Manolos which she claims was an accident but you know her Jamberry representative told her it was the new thing. Beth is wearing cropped culottes and hooker boots, and Radzi has decided to show up in lace bunny ears and a trompe l’oeil bazoom shirt. She looks like hell which is surprising for our Radzi. SoMo are in the predictable Vanna White Kollection getups and So has evidently forgotten her Spanx. I think Doritos is in the same outfit as last week.

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And off they go to the sushi place, because raw fish is a great place to feed a drunk, that drunk being of course So, who Mo immediately pumps up with a Don Julio shot. And it’s all downhill from there. Radzi audaciously suggests that the Kountess would look good with long hair, and Beth jumps down her throat for making “a dig” at her look. The Kountess sighs. For no reason, So pipes up from under the table “I am in PR my whole life” which Beth immediately calls out as BS. I am waiting for someone – ANYONE – to call out SoMo for their disinterest in using the proper tense in self-referential conversation (which means all conversation). If I ever declared “I am an attorney my whole life” would anyone hire me? No, they would not. I would not be hired even for a job that requires no talking with such an announcement, which in and of itself proves that So is not, has not been, and has no future in PR for any part of her life.

So, however, continues to babble “I am in PR my whole life” like it’s a mantra, or a spell to make campfire smoke blow the other direction. Beth cannot take it, nor can she whip up a superhero “The Repeater” costume for So out of the tablecloth, so she snaps at So instead: “Do you think I care? I need a break! Or Xanax!”. Which makes So cry that everyone is being mean to her because she has an Empire of Nothing.

Beth tries and fails to fix it by cooing at So that she’s an “amazing person”, even if she has an Empire of Nothing, and that she’s the only person being nice to her so don’t bite the hand. So continues to insist that she “promotes people” because she’s so radiating love and goodwill and interest in anything other than her bellybutton. The Kountess finally intervenes and tells Beth she can’t reason with So, which gives Mo the opportunity to change the subject to herself – it is her birthday after all, plus she’s on the FOH Bubble at this point and needs to prove she’s willing to air that dirty laundry, you guys! And she misses her rings! Because, you know, The Mario Trouble. Kountess Lu assures her she likes her much better now than she used to, and gets so Mo side-eye in response. Doritos confides that she thinks Mo should still be wearing her band, which suggests things aren’t quite as resolved as Editing might have us think.

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Dinner is done and they go gambling. SoMo assume the position next to an unsuspecting pair of lumps and start shrieking and carrying on, So’s tummy safely nestled in her lap. Beth loses all her cash to Kristen, who had an Elvis fan as her good luck charm. With 15 minutes to go till midnight, SoMo race upstairs to let it all hang out on the dance floor while Production rounds up the stragglers and sends them up to act like they care. Kristen sizes up Mo’s dancing as “a little Elaine from Seinfeld” while So tries to have her way with Lu, who has previously attended this rodeo. Radzi tells us that had she known in her yoot that she was “going to have this amazing body at 50″, she would have become a pole dancer rather than a news correspondent. (I am sort of of the opinion that Radzi’s body, which does look terrif for any age, is more the sort that looks good wearing clothes rather than not, so I am glad she went for the news, personally), while the Kountess finds herself once again serving as human shield for the world against So’s refusal to wear underpants. “How did I get the job as Snatch Guard?” she bemoans. Stop her before she volunteers again!

When everyone but So has had enough fun, Doritos is tasked with carting her down to the High Roller Suite, because she’s the new girl and everyone has to take a turn. “Do you want to book me for a party?” So preens. “I’m very expensive.” Surely she means she is still attempting to cater. “I was a model in the UAE, where my perfume is very popular!” She tries to round up Radzi for an afterparty, but Radzi dismisses her, causing So to turn on her like a wet cat – a wet cat whose bloated tum is sticking out past her boobs as she stumbles through the door. “I am an artist!” she booms – Radzi, published author, is no “artist”, she’s merely a “correspondent”! So raises millions! for artists! and the LGBT! and parties with “John-John Kennedy!” and Madonna! ALL THE TIME! John-John being, of course, (a) deceased nearly 18 years, and (b) Radzi’s cousin-in-law. Doritos is over it; “money talks, wealth whispers,” she purrs. That pffffft you hear isn’t just the trapped air leaving the prosecco. You know who I think would be perfect for So? David Hasselhoff.

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Morning comes, as it does, and everyone has gathered for brunch and to rehash the night. They are all exhausted and wrung out, and whether its hangovers or An Excess of So I can’t tell, but they have sure ordered a lot of food to combat it. Doritos tells Mo her birthday present was to take care of So all night, hope she liked it. Speak of the devil, here she is, fresh as a daisy and acting like nothing ever happened. She trots off down the hall to apologize to Beth for all that silly silliness of getting mad at her and crying and the like. No apology to the Kountess for flashing her vag in her face, or to Doritos for peeing in her closet.

Beth welcomes her fur-berobed visitor and invites her to sit before trying, as previously mentioned, to again Bring So to Jesus Christo El Hombre. There’s something incredibly tragic about this situation: Beth, who is a failure at all aspects of life except branding, at which she is really good, advising So – the effect in search of a cause, the (questionable) solution in search of a problem, the dog without a blog – a failure at all things including and especially branding, about Life.

This time Beth takes the approach proven successful time and again: flattery, an appeal to So’s colossally inflated ego. So is sexy, gorgeous, sweet, full of positive energy, has “that thing”, and yes, is smart. YOU IS SMART, So. She’s also experiencing serious financial issues that she pretends don’t exist (“oh, that“), and is still way to hung up on her ex who she was divorced by TEN YEARS AGO. So insists it’s none of that, just the barometric pressure, and also she mixed too many “vitamins”.

Holla would have given up by now, but Beth won’t relent just yet. So’s trying to be too fun, needs help, and needs to let go of that relationship which left the barn so long ago, she suggests. She needs to move on, needs not to “be with a guy” (Oh, I’m just fucking strangers, So insists! No need to worry about that!), be with herself (“What, masturbate?” populates So’s thought bubble), take care of herself first, and get professional help. Because what she’s doing is not working. And while she’s at it, drink less – which is when So fixes Beth with the Bea Arthur Stare and dismisses her with a wave as a little person who cares, but doesn’t get it, because Beth hasn’t lived the life and has no family, or at least none that care about her. Unlike So.

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Next time: So’s gonna fix it all with more abundance candles. There’s art, there’s boxing, and there are clowns, and Beth, who has no family, or at least none that care about her, goes to visit her best stepdad. It’s going to be an emotional one-hour season event! Aren’t they all?

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Sonja’s Heinie 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 5 Recap

My five-year-old is a kleptomaniac. Whenever some interesting object goes missing, I have learned to look in the top drawer of his nighttable, which isn’t always where I find the missing piece but it’s a starting point. In the past several months he has absconded with three eyelash curler pads, one rather expensive hair clip (the only kind that works for my bipolar ‘do), the TiVo remote control, and a 24-karat-gold money clip that was a family heirloom inherited by a visiting friend of ours; this last item, thankfully, was recovered from Small’s older brother’s t-shirt drawer when I was sorting clothes a few weeks thereafter.

This is all relevant to you because earlier this week my TiVo ran out of recording data. My halfhearted efforts to troubleshoot overlooked the fact that the TiVo router was no longer attached, but was under the dining room table. Last night everyone, including Small, was terrible disappointed to discover we had not recorded Survivor, so he’s learned the hard, sibling-enforcer way why he shalt not mess with the TV. We are replugged in and back on track, and I caught up on RHONY on Apple TV.

We find Beth at a cafe table, pretending to edit her latest work of literature, You Can Choose Harmonious Living Or You Can Choose Thigh Gap, But You Can’t Have Both. I Choose Thigh Gap as she waits for So to arrive in her town car, because Beth lives so downtown, you guys. So is wearing a normal UES sweater set and tweed daytime ensemble; Beth is clad in a rumpled tuxedo, complete with casually untied bow tie, and has bed head. What is happening here? So doesn’t even ask, because that would be not-about-So so who cares?

Beth is on the case here. She asks about So’s financial problems, and suggests unloading the SoStone would seem to resolve all of her creditor issues; So insists that if she sold the SoStone the creditors would get everything and she wouldn’t be able to afford even a standard 2 bed/1 BA with the “vapors” that would linger. Beth gets it; I don’t, because at some point So is going to be running on fumes no matter what, if she isn’t already. Notably, So no longer brings up the millions of dollars the former Mr. So supposedly owes her. I’m guessing the fact that all his cash is in trust and there was no doubt a prenup means she got the SoStone, gets child support for her Snuffleupagus daughter, and that’s it. It’s as bad as Sheree and her fantasy “eight figures”.

So’s plan to dig out from this mess is, as we all know, her ever expanding and diversifying Empire of Nothing. So informs her she is in the business of Sonja Morgan, which “they say” is an “international fashion lifestyle brand” just waiting to be tapped, like her ass. She’s going to start with jewelry and a perfume, Eau De Hung Up Wet, and launch it at an upscale trunk show at Bergdorfs, or maybe at some gallery. What? asks Beth. Bergdorfs or: that crappy little boutique/art gallery from the cancelled Bravo favorite Gallery Girls? Because you know that’s how this would end up. Bravo does not have a crossover tie-in with high end retail in Manhattan.

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So is nonplussed. She’s going to move into hair extensions and a purse line; it’s all about ACCESSIBLE LUXURY. You know who’s all about ACCESSIBLE LUXURY? QVC. Accessible because you don’t have to rise from your Barcalounger to get it, and luxury because the TV hawker says it is. Beth advises So that whatever she’s doing, she needs to start with a single focus, as she did with the margarita, and really put all her energy into it. So totally gets it; she’s putting all her energy into this enterprise by avoiding emotional commitment and only engaging in recreational boot-knocking with individuals known to her only by first or code names. And she’s not swallowing unless the charges are going on a Black Card. See, focus!

On the UES, Doritos and the Kountess are getting pedicures. They are excited, and I am worried; nothing good ever comes from a RHONY pedicure date. Also, I hope the Kountess brought a pair of flip flops because those boots are going to wreck her nails. So what to talk about? Well, how about how The Fat Man showed up at the swingers club a few weeks ago? Yeah, Doritos knows, and she’s not amused, because she thinks when there is vag around men accidentally get stuck in it. I really, truly don’t understand why she would care what The Fat Man is doing with his pickle, and if anything would hope she wants him to find another warm pocket in which to put it. But then again, I am also starting to wonder whether The Fat Man even puts his pickle in Doritos’ pocket. Husky voice (and not in a sexy Demi way), man face; if I met her on the street I would completely assume she’s got a pickle, too. Nails get painted, Doritos establishes that she thinks Beth was a little harsh about Kristen being tweaked for not being invited to the birthday party, but she nonetheless thinks Kristen didn’t merit an invitation anyway. The middle: split.

Radzi and Kristen meet for “healthy drinks”, like those made with Apple Pucker, and a shared plate of air and cucumber slices. Radzi tells Kristen about Masterchef Junior and how they are “practically living together”, well, not really, but he brings his backpack over a lot. Also, Radzi hasn’t told the Kountess yet, which Kristen, despite being three glasses in, immediately recognizes as a “complication”. Radzi is unfazed. Perhaps she knows Masterchef is going to be grounded and sent to military school as soon as they are found out so she’s going to keep this going as long as possible before that happens.

So has returned home to check on the dog training intern and welcome Mo and her ever present bottle of RAMONA Pinot Grigio. So considers a glass of green juice but foregoes it in favor of the moonshine. So has invited Mo here because, even though she has expressed no empathy to her supposed best friend whatsoever, she knows she’s supposed to be concerned about her well-being and therefore has decided to invite Mo on a weekend in Atlantic City to celebrate Mo’s birthday. Because what wouldn’t make an over-50, soon-to-be-divorced gal happier than marking one more year over the hill in a decrepit casino in New Jersey? Mo is slightly apprehensive about going to New Jersey with just So and asks if the other girls can come. So says yes to Radzi, and okay to whoever else so long as no one asks her about her Empire of Nothing.

Doritos, meanwhile, is reading in her dorm room and plotting up a cocktail party to welcome herself to the franchise when her daughter gets out of the clown car and knocks on the door. What is happening in this room? Is it purple? It’s like it was furnished at the Anthropologie section of Goodwill a week after campus closed for the summer. Doritos thinks her party is going to be awesome, except Beth “can’t come away”, and Mo doesn’t like The Fat Man. And, the gold buckle on her face clutch doesn’t match the rose gold embellishments on her dominatrix costume. I have to say, coordinating my buckles is the sort of detail I get all caught up in, too.

Now that Kristen has Zoila’s cousin managing the kids, she’s decided to keep busy by launching a fashion blog, called “Last Night’s Look“. I have investigated this blog on all our behalf, and here’s what I have found out: 1) it is mostly about what her look was last night… on RHONY; 2) this is good because now our Google searches to source her amazing necklaces, in particular, will be that much shorter; and 3) she does not know how to spell her BFF Heather THOMSON’s last name.

 

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Kristen has an intern staff to push her stroller full of shit, help her fully undress on street corners, and take the blog photos with her iPhone, editing out the accidental ladybits flash with the appropriate filter. This is the big time, folks.

Also in fashion, of course, is So, who is going to prove to Beth (who as far as she knows is the only non-Doubting Thomas among the ‘Wives) that her Empire of Nothing has something by inviting her to the SoShowroom for a meeting with her crack team of Sikh mafiosi. What Beth is able to confirm in this meeting is that there is a logo (nothing crazy, just an “S” interposed on an “M” that could have been slapped together at the neighborhood Alphagraphics, or possibly lifted from a porn site) and sketches of basic garments colored in So’s favorite shades of Leopard and Nude Camel.

The crack team plans to turn these concepts into reality by Summer 2015, which means they need to have clothes in stores in three months. Beth’s eyebrow goes up and she wants to know whether there are orders in place, where they are going to be sold, whether there’s a truck coming to pick them up and drive them there or an Amazon drone or are they Ubering themselves, what is the plan? The female henchperson barks that it’s all secret sauce, they have an 860 square foot warehouse and “know everything”, so STFU, bitch. Plus, you know, So won that “award” from Marc Jacobs back when she worked for him (Salesperson Of The Month; came with a designated parking place for her skateboard) so So Knows Fashion.

Beth is cowed and leaves with her able assistant, so perplexed that she actually consumes a dried out segment of Skinnygirl Poop while questioning why Holla, who “really knows the business”, wasn’t there instead of Beth. I think this is the White Flag of Shapewear being waved, folks. Beth is going to stake her claim as the Empress of Low Alcohol Adult Beverages and cede the province of Motion Control to her new not best friend. (Let’s be honest: the way things are going so far, if Beth doesn’t give Holla this bone there’s not much place for her here. Holla needs a purpose or she’s going FOH.)

It’s time for the Doritos Cocktail Hour, and either at this point in filming Mo was still not sure whether she was demoted or Full Housewife or she really didn’t get the memo about “cocktail attire” for cocktails and, apparently, forgot to wear a bra. The Kountess is up to code, as she always is, and So is even wearing cocktail spangles over her cocktail pooch as she swans in with her call boy in tow. Immediately, everyone piles on So for not inviting them to her Showroom Showdown and for inviting Beth instead, of all people. So insists Beth invited herself. Mo sizes up So’s voice as “grating and defensive”; I’m sizing it up as the usual.

Radzi waltzes in late wearing her Studio 54 red-and-black fur disco shrug and is immediately sat down by the Kountess. The Kountess is mad that Radzi is knocking boots with Masterchef, because it seems he not only used to bang Lu’s niece, but Lu’s niece has hung with Radzi and talked about her relationship with Masterchef. AND, the niece is supposed to be traveling with him to his farm in Nicaragua and now it’s all awkward! Radzi is making no apologies, but frankly I think she ought to be asking about test results and recent rashes and the like. And also: what are they farming in Nicaragua? Cocaine? Whatever, Lu’s all mad and Radzi’s all mad back, and really they should both be mad at Masterchef because he’s a manwhore and the one who owes the ladies a little more dignity. But of course, this is all nothing on the Twitterampage Lu is now on and can’t seem to get off.

The rest is boring compared to online. Much ado about Beth’s boring birthday party, So’s boy is outside smoking with a black girl in a Big Bird costume, Mo does pushups like Michelle Obama and declares she’d rather masturbate than do call boys, and SoMo bicker. Kristen and So make the bread for a Fat Sweating Man sandwich before Kristen runs away shrieking. So seemed to enjoy that more than I think anyone should have. It all ends with Doritos looking drunk, disheveled, and like Woodstock with that hair.

Next time: we are not going to get out of this trip to Atlantic City, you guys. {BIG SIGH}

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Of Cougars and Chubby Chasers 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 4 Recap

I did two of three days of a juice cleanse earlier this week (I quit early because the hungrage was getting to me. It was not good for the world.). I have done one before and loved it, but this time not so good, so I am partially cleansed, and still a little hangry. The only way I can handle a juice cleanse is by going to bed really, really early, so I finally got around to watching RHONY last night. I’m glad I did not stay up for that shiitake because I probably would have reached into the flat screen and throttled one of these annoying bitches.

Even Radzi is annoying me a bit, and she never bothers me. (Clearly the hangry hangover is still with me, or it could be the fact that someone in my office is wearing way too much perfume which is sending me around the bend. I am leaving after my 2 pm client for sure. PU.) She and Holla are meeting on the High Line to catch up on Radzi’s personal life (certainly not Holla’s; nothing to see here). It seems that Radzi has been knocking boots (and tripping balls) with Kountess Lu’s “chef”, who held her hair when she threw up in one of those commuter rickshaws on Halloween. Radzi thinks it’s cute to barf with a guy because it makes you “vulnerable”. I am sure Masterchef Junior does not see it that way. He’s 29, they are hanging out, as the kids say, and no she has not told the Kountess yet. She’s sure it will be no big deal.

Elsewhere, Beth is rolling into her hotel suite and jumping into a bondage jumpsuit to roll back out for her “easy, loose” birthday dinner. Anyone who watched Beth’s spinoff and witnessed her massive bathroom freakout on Jason for throwing her a very “loose” and sparsely-attended birthday cocktail party is having a hard time understanding why she is throwing herself this event, and how it will possibly be “easy”, but nonetheless we need a reason for a social gathering and this will be it. I do not like this bondage jumpsuit; I did, however, really dig the Brit flag wellies and want to know where I can get some. I also want super-skinny calves so they gap attractively like Beth’s do, and I am not getting those, either. Anyway, away the Skinnygirl Posse go, sharing one roadie. Lame. I’d want my own.

The birthday dinner is in a private room at some place called Monarch, and all the old bags are invited. All the old bags save Doritos; Kristen, who is neither old nor a bag, but in fact probably the only actual ‘housewife’ on this franchise, was not invited either. As this event took place the night after “single ladies night” in the back room of Boutique, all the old ladies are dragging their junior prom dates along with them, and Dominik has invited his roommate which is when I become completely and entirely certain that these prom dates are actually gay Bravo fans.

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Despite their homosexuality, the youngsters totally miss Radzi’s “Jordache” reference as they are so young they know nothing of the brand. Radzi knows all about it because she was their fit model. Really? Learning new things about Radzi every day. Beth and her boobs give herself a toast and everyone dances on elevated surfaces, badly.

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The next day at her teeny-tiny apartment (I love NYC, but could not live there), Kristen steps into her pretend office four feet to the right of the kitchen counter and takes a call from Holla, who tells her that Beth had a birthday party and she wasn’t invited. Kristen gets off and tells her nanny (who has already heard this, as she was standing right there) that she wasn’t invited to Beth’s easy, loose birthday party. Why not? “Who cares?” replies the nanny. Who indeed? I love this nanny! She’s like the East Coast Zoila!

Doritos is at her own teeny-tiny apartment with her rather unfortunate looking and apparently impossible daughter, Hannah. I have never seen Girls but I am going out on a limb here and saying that Hannah is one of whatever kind of hipster youth the show is meant to represent, if a UES version. Doritos is wearing a terribly unflattering aubergine fur bolero vest that had no chance – none whatsoever. Why would you spend money on something like that? Aubergine fur anything, let alone a bolero, let alone a bolero vest? It was never, ever going to work. Hannah, it seems, does not like Doritos’ fat dry cleaner, so she keeps them separate. Hannah, it seems, does not understand her mother’s taste in men, which runs to the overweight small-dog owning type. I’m coming to think I don’t understand Doritos’ taste in anything. Also, Doritos’ apartment is about twelve square feet bigger than the Taekmans’ which means Doritos’ housekeeper has the world’s easiest gig. Swiffer, Dustbuster, fold the Murphy bed into the wall, done.

Mo and her dog go take a meeting with a fearful looking fellow about her new involvement in his restaurant enterprise, Avenue of the Americas Express, which sounds like a chain of airport cafeterias. Mo tries to flirt with him and his visible unease grows. It seems they met at a party and this restaurant guy was “impressed” with Mo’s “business sense, social sense, and personality”. Or: his PR team told him he needed a celebrity endorser and Mo was all they could afford. She winks. He rolls his eyes.

It stinks in my office, dear Liza dear Liza.

Radzi is out on a date with Masterchef Junior to play ping pong in noted and acclaimed actress and cougar Susan Sarandon’s deserted ping pong club, Spin. I am familiar with Spin after it made a guest appearance on Project Runway Teams, and wonder if we will get to see any wait staff in ping pong themed kilts.

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Alas. We do, however, get to see Masterchef pedal off to lay pipe with Radzi perched atop his handlebars. No helmet!

Doritos is out on her own date with her fat dry cleaner and is mad at him again, this time for ordering for her. She should be mad she spent so much money on those incredibly unflattering ecru over-the-knee boots which simply accentuate her saddlebags. Beth could pull them off (and probably has them amidst her extensive and renowned boot wardrobe); Doritos cannot, and is too old for them anyway.

The fat dry cleaner and Doritos are going into business together with some sort of electronic clothing tag enterprise which will presumably eliminate the need for dry cleaners to write clients’ names on their clothes, a practice known to enrage but unavoidably necessary heretofore. Doritos muses aloud whether Hannah is going to approve of her being in business with the dry cleaner, which provokes a crack from Fat about Hannah being a raving bitch who controls her momma, which provokes Doritos to bark at Fat that he’s always going to be #2 and drink the remainder of her dinner. And thus Fat’s chances of getting laid tonight, at least by Doritos, are out the window. He eats her entree.

Next, Doritos, Holla, Beth, and Radzi are going out to dinner. Beth and Doritos bond about being the new girls (or, in Beth’s case, the secondhand one), and Doritos and Radzi bond about being young widows. Beth, ever in a business frame of mind, barks that they need to “rebrand” widowhood. What? Apparently Radzi has to go to London to retrieve her late husband’s remains because they are building condos on the site of the church where his ashes are interred. Meep! Doritos tells the girls that Hannah hates Fat and has only seen him three times in the 2.5 years she has been dating him, and wants mom to unload him. At least Doritos hasn’t had to buy him new teeth, as far as we know.

Holla tells Beth (who she calls ‘Beth’, which establishes conclusively that Beth hates being called ‘Beth’, which delights me to no end) that Kristen was hurt not to be invited to Beth’s birthday party. (Doritos, on the other hand, couldn’t give a shit if she tried.) Beth cannot be bothered with this shiitake and responds with a Vic Gunvalson Fake Nap, complete with snoring. Apparently Holla thinks Beth should have invited Kristen because she is under the impression that Beth and Josh go way back; Beth insists she’s only met Josh five times in ten years. Holla insists that’s more times than Beth has met Radzi, but see Beth and Radzi were having fun at Singles Night just the night before so it was a spontaneous invite. And: Beth didn’t invite Gummi Bear, so there! It went on for a while but I got bored.

Next time: Lu gets super mad that Radzi is boning Masterchef Junior. Something else happens with Doritos and Lu, and So previews her “fashion line” exclusively for Beth. GASP.

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Brunch and Bitch 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 3 Recap

Here we go, at last! As saggy as RHONY has been in the ratings the last couple of seasons it’s still one of my favorite franchises, partly because it’s one of my original recappees but largely because I just love New York. Who doesn’t? I really feel like RHONY is at it’s best when New York feels real, like another character in play on the show, so let’s hope for more of that this season, shall we?

It’s morning in the Hamptons, and the Fun Girls, who are staying at Kountess Lu’s, are lounging on the couch debating which of the dueling brunches to attend and freaking me out with talk about braiding Radzi’s toe hair. Eeew, eeewww! It seems that after Bethenny made the grievous social faux pas of inviting one of Mo Singer’s houseguests to brunch, Mo decided to have her revenge by planning her OWN brunch and inviting everyone to that. What to do, what to do? Kountess Lu suggests they split the difference by going to both, which is totally what I would do because brunch is my favorite meal, and I’ll take any excuse to have a Bloody Mary.

Holla wants to know whether her new acquaintance Bethenny is a drama queen. HELLO. In response, Lu (Switzerland) offers the anecdote that when Mo was a guest on Bethenny’s failed show, she spilled something on herself (Turtle Time!) and asked to borrow a Herve Leger, which she left wearing and never returned. Cast that tale against Mo and So’s 20 year friendship drought over a sample sale dress and clearly, drama queen or not, there is drama to be had here.

So first the Fun Girls go to Bethenny’s Skinnygirl Showhouse, where all the accents are conveniently red, and all the products are perfectly placed. I have to wonder whether she bought or rented this house because of the red, or put it there. Radzi shares that she’s been in Oscar gifting suites with less product. Bethenny claims she is unfazed by the previous evening’s confrontation with Mo, other than the fact that she has “weeded out crap people” and now here’s another one. They do tend to come along with the seven figure contract, Bethenny. (Oh, also: she’s not mad about the dress. Not at all. Not that she didn’t notice the photo Mo posted of it on Instagram months later.)

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So anyway, Beth’s brunch is fun, although no one seems to eat anything, not even the unappetizing looking Skinnygirl bars or crackers. Certainly not the bacon. Beth (you know she would hate being called “Beth”) wants to know what she’s been missing among these bitches while she was off unsuccessfully trying to scale the media ladder, and Holla tells her how So’s toaster oven never happened and now she’s got 10,000 things in the air with nothing actually happening. Beth knows she’s just the girl to bring So back to reality. RIGHT-o. You just know So’s got all those assistants responding to every email she gets from Mr. Herbert Obadu in Nigeria.

Speaking of So, she and the other hung-up-wets are waiting for the Fun Girls in some local establishment so they can start their brunch “in honor of Doritos”. After So downed the beer in her purse she apparently missed the entire episode the previous evening between So and Beth and demands to know what Mo did to make Beth so mad; Mo is so enraged that So dare question her that she gets literally nose-to-nose with her, hissing she did nothing. NOTHING I TELL YOU!

Finally, an hour into the Doritos Brunch, the Fun Girls finally leave the Skinnygirl Showhouse, red blenders and other products in tow, and arrive just as Doritos is leaving to get back to The City. Doritos feels there is such a thing as a bad brunch, and that would be one that involves “no people, no food, just old bitches fighting”. She still got a Bloody Mary out of the deal which should count for something. She and So roll out with Egg McMuffins to go. Mo claims to be blithely unaware that there was any other social event going on, and demands to know why she wasn’t invited. Lu unapologetically informs her that it’s because she launched a fracas in the street with Beth just the night before. Doesn’t she remember? Mo insists she did no such thing. NOTHING I TELL YOU!

Back in New York, Doritos has lunch with her fat dry cleaner and berates him for taking a call from his bookie while they are supposed to be spending special time together, but not publicly romanticizing. I think if she doesn’t want to be witnessed kissing Joe Guidice’s cousin then she should not be dating him, let alone be on reality tv. I am bored with Doritos already.

Beth returns to New York to oversee yet another gut renovation of yet another apartment, since He Who Shall Not Be Named will not vacate the one she so publicly renovated for an entire season of her last solo show, Bethenny Never Stops Talking. She’s using all the same crew for this job, minus the lady decorators, because who needs high-priced fancy decorators to slap a Skinnygirl label on everything? Whatever. 2.5 episodes in and this is already too much Beth.

Kountess Lu is lunching with Mo at the Mopartment. The Mopartment still displays lots and lots and lots of Mariobilia and I think Mo needs both a decor upgrade and atmospheric revisit altogether. Maybe a little feng shui. After spending all last season pretending there was nothing to see here, Mo is now getting candid, probably because she’s operating under threat of downgrade to FOH if she doesn’t. And you can’t come back from that, not unless you are a Kountess!

No, Mo’s ready to talk, and talk she does: yes, Mario was poking it in some rat he met at the gym, although she was over 30 for what it’s worth. No, she has no idea where he’s living now even though the dog is visiting him wherever it is; she assumes he’s sleeping on someone’s couch and pining for her. No, Avery won’t speak to Mario. No, she doesn’t think he was doing this always (no matter what the Moroccan psychic said); she thinks he’s having a midlife crisis and is not right in the head. Yes, she’s dating, just not on Tinder or Grindr or whatever, and no, she doesn’t care if Mario is on those sites (well, Grindr would be an issue). And she’s filed for divorce. Lu is astounded; this is the first normal conversation she’s ever had with Mo! Us too!

Next, Lu heads to another lunch at Dos Caminos with Beth and Holla. Holla is all fancy lady because she was just featured on some business show on MSNBC that Beth tries to deride and play all coolly dismissive of but you know she’s just seething that she’s not invited to play businesswoman on TV other than on Bravo. They order complex custom cocktails and get to talking about Mo. It seems Mo texted an apology to Beth, who really isn’t interested in taking the reconnection further because she does not want Mo on her jock. Holla offers Beth a lengthy psychoanalytic analysis of the Many Faces of Mo Singer but Beth isn’t into it. Honey badger don’t care! Throughout, Lu plays Trivia Crack on her iPhone, as do I.

For Lu’s next event, she’s traipsing through a commercial kitchen with Gummi Bear in tow to host a “single girls’ night” at a renowned UES speakeasy/pick-up joint. Lu claims she wasn’t planning to drag Gummi Bear along, but ran into her at another something and spontaneously invited her. I’m buying it; Gummi is wearing a ratty, rayon-looking cardigan and her holey t-shirt seems to have been washed more than her hair has recently.

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Apparently Lu has invited all the single ladies of this franchise, which means we’re on a collision course. And sure enough, after SoMo rolls in and Radzi saunters in wearing thigh-high hooker boots, here comes Beth in all her glory and Skinnygirl lingerie-as-top-under-blazer, immediately spotting Gummi Bear and commencing the seethe. She parks herself at the bar and chats up two unattractive men, supposedly unnoticed by the other single ladies (as “unnoticed” as the only other woman in the place, camera crew in tow, could be), snippy that she did not get a “warning” of Gummi’s presence. Finally Lu spots her, calls her over, and dismisses her Gummi issues outright as she couldn’t warn Beth of an event she didn’t know was going to happen. No one dismisses Bethie in a snit. No one.

Two European dudes named Dominik and Erik have somehow gotten mixed in with these broads, and So has declared intent to possess on the brunette while Lu sneaks off to the nap room or something with the blonde. Mo finds a man with a beard, then another guy who looks altogether too much like Mario. No one is paying attention to Beth so she takes off her shirt. Still nothing. Radzi is amused. It’s an old people’s singles club! Then why are these two young Europeans here? I am starting to think they are call boys. Then, suddenly: SCANDAL. The fat dry cleaner is here – without Doritos. She might lose her man to that model!

Next time: Mo goes dating. Doritos and The Fat Man fight. Radzi makes a play for Lu’s son’s friend, and Holla and Beth have it out over Kristen. Let the petty bitchery commence!

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Love Bites 🍷 RHOBH Season 5 Reunion Recap

Three episodes of some of the most painful snarling we’ve had on any reunion of any franchise of Housewives is a lot to play-by-play, so I am going to tie this one up a little differently by assessing our players performance, okay?

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Let’s start with Yo; that was sad, no? I am glad they were nice and respectful, but also appreciated that they didn’t completely pass on a real conversation about how she enables The Glands. For all her confidence in what sort of positive energy and loving presence she puts into the world, at times I feel like Yo needs to be a little more self-critical. I suspect that somewhere in the back of her head there’s at least a teeny-tiny bit of fear that if she really drops the hammer on The Glands (which she ought to), she’s gonna git it like everyone else.

But more than anything, I can’t help but question whether the state Yo is in is altogether her condition, or at least partly overmedication. She’s gotten pretty testy in the past few weeks as traditional medical professionals have questioned her treatment (and even her diagnosis), so far be it from me to chime in with doubts, but she’s certainly got a lot of something on board and it’s not just vitamins. Didn’t Avril Lavigne recently come out and say she also has been suffering from Lyme Disease? What sort of ticks do they have in LA? I know a lot of people who live deep in forests full of deer and not one of them has Lyme Disease. Anyway, poor Yo, and I hope she gets sent in the right direction soon because where she’s at doesn’t look good to me.

Moving on to Lady Pump: not much to say about Lady Pump this reunion, unlike last, other than that peuce thing was the single ugliest dress I’ve ever seen. Certainly on Housewives, possibly in my life.

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Horrible color, old lady cut – talk about ice skater! Just did nothing for her whatsoever. Jewelry was disappointing as well. I think Stassi revenge-styled her.

Eileen: I did not like this hair:

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I like this hair:

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Dress appears to be from the Mo Singer for HSN Kollection. Anyway, Eileen didn’t have much more to add to this reunion than Lady Pump. Will she be back? I liked her, more than I expected to, and I think she brings a lot of normal to this operation (she drives a Flex, for God’s sake!), which may or may not work under the circumstances. I kind of feel like Eileen and Lipsey are in or out as a unit.

The Glands: I don’t even want to talk about her, but I will. What has she done to her face now? It’s like only the skin around the lips has nerve stimulation. Lips themselves are too stuffed to bend, and the rest of the face is frozen. She has got to get a higher-quality derm. And I am so tired of hearing her whiny shrieks, and so over the fact that she dishes shit out that she just can’t take, because, you know, her kids. And the deflections, and the viciousness, and the crassness. She is a pest, and played out, and I really hope somebody blinks because she’s making this show irredeemably tiresome for the other ladies and the viewers. The crack about Lady Pump wishing she’s the one who knocked boots with Amsterboy was just gross. I felt for Eileen. I wanted to send her a Crazy Creek so she could sit on the floor on the other side.

Most of the action, obviously, was with the Richards Sisters, and it was just painful to watch. (As was Kim’s decrepit appearance, all the more haggard in comparison to her sister who looked oddly, if well, refreshed and smoothed over. I don’t know what exactly Kyle is doing but it looks good, in sort of a bewildering way as she is looking less and less like Kyle for it…) So much is going on here, well beyond the context of this show, and it seems to me that in The Glands Kim has finally found someone who will validate her at every turn. Kim is like an old person who has fallen under the influence of a plotting caregiver and has changed her will to make them the sole beneficiary.

So either we’re only getting a fraction of the story here, or Kim has basically chosen The Glands and The Dog over The Sister, out of no small degree of anger and spite, which has left Kyle bewildered and betrayed. I can’t blame her one bit. (And I seriously don’t believe for a second that Kathy is such a wonderful, better sister; I think she’s too full of herself to overly involve herself in Kim’s business, so their relationship is more of a lightweight association with the occasional free meal thrown in.) I am not going to get into the Pit Bull issue, as I know many Pit Bull owners and to a one they feel their beloved pet is victim to bad publicity. All I know is that Pit or not, a dog that bites – ever, let alone repeatedly – is a problem. And an owner who resents and refuses to take responsibility for that beloved animal having a problem aspect is the biggest problem of all.

Kim’s rage that Kyle exposed Kingsley as a problem animal might have been slightly understandable given the vast publicity that inevitably followed, but her absolute refusal to address the situation in any reasonable fashion eliminates any pity I have for her. She doesn’t get to fire cannons at everyone and play the “my kids” card for herself. Her dog is a problem, if she isn’t going to explain how she’s dealing with it then the only reasonable conclusion is that she’s not and the problem continues. That’s not acceptable. (And I can’t help but think she’s been told in no uncertain terms that there’s no “solution” for Kingsley other than putting him down, which is a very sad and tragic result, but also speaks for itself.) I am a total dog person, and cannot imagine being in Kim’s shoes, but if she can’t be moved to deal with it when Kingsley bites her adored niece, who is the person he needs to attack (and what needs to result) before she does something about it? Kyle’s anger level didn’t really make any rational sense until the dog thing came up, but if I were in her shoes I would be furious. Mr. Andy was astounded, and so was I, that the dog is the real issue. The Glands could not have been quieter. It’s hard to enable sometimes, isn’t it? Now that people are suing Bravo for Kingsley’s actions I wonder whether they aren’t going to have to cut the cord with Kim. Kyle might be more interesting without her.

I’m left perplexed by Lipsey altogether. I’ve heard speculation that she was difficult and they don’t want her back, but it seems to me if they want Eileen they are going to have to have Lipsey too, and Lady Pump will stick with her as well. What has she been doing offscreen? On screen she’s timid and backs off in a flash, off she’s on the attack with her iPhone as shield. She can’t seem to make up her mind what confrontation level she’s comfortable with, which seems sneaky. The baloney about her daddy issues? Girl, please. I’d like to meet a woman of her age with a dad of his who doesn’t feel Dad didn’t take her quite as seriously as she would have liked. Best dressed, though. And I do hope she’s back, because I think she’s fun, she seems to have a real side, and the makings of genuine relationships. And I want to know: did she just wear the Depends, or did she test them out?

So that’s that; sucky and disappointing, I know, but this has been unexpectedly unhappy near the end, no? Maybe Mr. Andy can bring Camille back and fire up some good times for season 6.

Next time: back to the Big Apple! I’ll pick up the crazy ladies from one of my favorite cities in a day or two.

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“More Like A Flintstone” 🍷 Southern Charm Season 2 Episode 5 Recap

I’m doing it, people! Yes, I am plunging into recapping Southern Charm. I am a little behind and slightly unclear who some of these new people are, but let’s just get rolling, shall we?

I think the reason I love this show, other than the obvious eye candy, is the setting. Charleston! Lawd, it’s a delight. (Same reason I really love RHONY season over season; the setting is a character along with everyone else, and the escapist element is that much more pronounced for it.) Plus it’s just lightweight stuff, Senate races and irreversible reproductive choices notwithstanding.

And who epitomizes all that is fab about Southern Charm more than Patricia Altschul? This woman is the sort of socialite the RHONY ladies wish they were, and I find it terribly amusing that she has gladly taken such a visible position on this show whereas you and I both know there isn’t a skunk’s chance in traffic she would be caught dead as a Housewife. Lady Pump has real swans; Miss Patricia has ironic inflatables. And she’s more housewife than some of our Housewives, as we meet her today… scrapbooking. Yes, really! She’s assembling a scrapbook memorializing son Whitney’s tabloid appearances over the summer as he romanced some mystery model all over Europe. (This is all the more mysterious as Whitney seems at best asexual to me, but Kathryn screwed him so there’s no accounting for taste or choices, I guess.) Anyway, Miss Patricia is optimistic that Whitney’s latest relationship could possibly end in a wedding, if not lifelong married bliss, and thereby give her an excuse to wear Valentino couture, and she’s practicing her scrapbooking skills with this Smythson edition before investing in the Cricut and getting really fancy.

Whitney, who has stopped by, fills Mother in on the goings-on at TRav’s recent “fundraiser” out in the swamp, at which both Kathryn and TRav’s new “professional” campaign manager, “Sandy Duncan from hell”, voiced their disapproval of the presumably Robert Palmer-style campaign ad Whitney produced for the candidate. (I missed the footage but it sounds really inspiring; certainly can only set TRav apart from his opponent, Lindsey Graham. Well, that and the reality show. And the other stuff.) Both Whitney and Mother think it’s perfectly ridiculous that TRav is trying to be a “serious candidate”, an effort that will inevitably fail. Mother and son share a mirthful laugh before turning their attention to Miss Patricia’s newest purchase, jewel-encrusted flats.

As for the gainfully-employed, Cameran (who could not be more adorable) arrives at her real estate office to get a call from the candidate informing her that he found a proper “city” home on his own and won’t need her help after all. Cameran’s a little irked to lose the commission, but glad for Kathryn’s sake that she’s at least getting relocated from the boonies to the ‘hood, and hopes this is a step in the direction of legitimizing their little family. I’m not altogether sure I think that’s remotely in anyone’s best interest, but we’ll let this play out a bit I suppose.

The real focus of this particular episode is our dashing friend Craig, who as cheeky, attractive, and well-turned out as he is is not living on the same playing field as the other men of Charm. Craig is no trust-fund dilettante; he not only needs to earn a living, but he has school loans to pay! So he better get serious about this law career, unlike Shep, who just has to do his thang, man. Here’s another difference between these two: Craig is 26 and just got out of law school, which basically means that he had one year (at best) between undergrad and graduate school and is still an amateur adult, even if he does have older friends. Shep is about to turn 35. And as filming apparently took place in the fall it looks like Craig was shooting for the February bar exam, so no, he really can’t be blamed for giving himself a hall pass, even if he could work a little harder on showing up at the office during daylight hours from time to time. At least he’s set up a LinkedIn profile. (And has joined the “Referrals over Cocktails” networking group.) Regardless, I do agree with Shep that the skill to know when a night is over and it’s time to skedaddle is worth developing regardless of one’s age.

Craig

Since TRav’s last fundraiser in the swamp seemed only to attract the usual – and tapped-out – suspects, Sandy Duncan has schemed up a “Carolina barbecue” to show the public at large that the candidate is a man of the people. And, to get people to show up to make this discovery, they are going to throw this bbq at TRav’s own plantation and let just any lookie-loo who wants to stop by come on over. A Bravo Superfan political fundraiser? This woman is a professional? Kathryn is more than a little alarmed that a whole bunch of strangers are about to storm her place of residence, and retreats to the cellar nursery with the ambassador of common sense, Cameran, and some other chick. No one puts baby in a floodprone basement – except T-Daddy!

The girls finally emerge to warily make sure nothing crazy happens. And nothing especially crazy does, except Kathryn wears a sheer YSL-logo t-shirt from Chinatown over a bright orange bra, and TRav thanks everyone for their support – except his babymomma. Not that public thanks to one’s age-inappropriate piece of fecundity is really ever a good gesture on the campaign trail. But he could have generally thanked his “family”, or something vague. Hell, these are all Bravo superfans – who cares?

Someone named Cooper is having a male fashion show and is using the new girl cast member, Landon, to help him stage it. Has anyone at all mentioned that artsy girl with the half-shaved head, empty house, and mystery sexual benefactor from last season? Or have we all forgotten about her? Whatever, Landon seems cute. Craig is apparently going to model in this event-of-the-season, so Shep stops by to rouse him from his hangover and fetch him up, discovering Craig’s worrisome “housekeeping” in the process. We don’t even get a good look at it in the dim and dank, but I fear the smell, and the rodents. Shep, ever the model of responsibility and maturity, is worried about Craig. But at least if all else fails he’ll have his good looks to fall back on. (BTW, per LinkedIn Shep did two of three years of his MBA at Vandy and since then seems to have abandoned ship for greener reality TV pastures.)

 

 

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Also hitting the fashion show is Miss Patricia, whose butler is bringing her her “dressing drink”. Holy fuck YEAH! And it not only needed a name, but a Jeeves to bring it. Patricia reminisces about her last fashion show, which was in Paris, front row, Lagerfeld or some such, and now she’s off to a B&B “for bow ties”. And along comes her son-escort in “porny” sunglasses to pick her up. As the after party is scheduled for a nightclub, the two agree to make dinner reservations instead such as to avoid an awkward interaction with the inevitably-inebriated babymomma spitfire Whitney most recently offended last week. Jeeves brings Miss Patricia her shoes on a silver platter and off they go in the Benzie. Damn! Patricia Altschul lives right.

Meanwhile, Shep has delivered Craig to his modeling appointment on time, even if he has not been able to prevent the pre-show imbibing Cooper has forbidden the models to engage in. Shep and Cameran have a great time chilling before the show, whereas Whitney’s buzz is killed upon arrival when his seat ends up being precisely next to Kathryn’s. Meep! And it’s time for the show, which features a lot of highly improbable menswear including cat-print velvet suits and red pimp coats, but it’s entertaining, and I think Cameran may have been a bit overserved for all the catcalling. Just not done at a fashion show.

The afterparty is at Shep n’ Craig’s favorite venue for chickstalking, Republic, and off the bat Craig is half in the bag and Shep’s getting a little out of line in talking about it. Specifically, to TRav, of all people, who seeks to give Craig some unwanted and unsolicited cautionary advice. MEEP. This is not going to go well.

Next time: Shep officially turns 35; Cameran tries to strategize a way to trick TRav into a ring; and more campaign strategy debate. Come on, we all know he doesn’t win, so can we just stop pretending?

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Ahoy, Mickey! ⚓️ Travel

OHmiword!

Despite what it may have seemed like, I did not drop off the face of the earth. I have not experienced a crisis or catastrophe. I have not been abducted by aliens. (Close, though.)

I have been on a Disney cruise.

Yes, I have missed about three weeks of critical recapping because of one 7-night experience at sea. Trust me when I tell you that this excursion required my full-time attention to preparation in the week prior to departure, and has taken well over a week to recuperate and regather my wits. I am now here to share with you the unvarnished truth about Cruising With Mickey.

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I should first explain that this was my first cruise, and not my idea. My mother loves cruising, and took my family and my sister’s family on this adventure as a Christmas gift, which was very thoughtful. My sister has twin girls who, like Big, are nearly 11, and if we’re going to be perfectly honest about it I think my mother’s primary motivation behind this extravaganza was to get to see Cinderella with them, at sea. One of the twins has a thing for Minnie and they generally appreciate the Disney princesses as much as the next girl; other than that, none of us is particularly a Disney “person”, and we’re not really theme park people, either. So while I risk sounding like a grumbler, I think the point of view of the non-Mouse-obsessed on this seaborne odyssey has to be of some value to someone questioning whether taking a Disney cruise (said by many to be “the best vacation” they’ve ever taken) is worth it.

First, the positives:
* the PEOPLE are amazing. The staff, who come from all over the world and spend literally months away from their family and friends to tend to strangers’ every need, are absolutely delightful. They are friendly, kind, solicitous, patient, and hell-bent on making every person HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY. On a Disney cruise, you have not only your assigned room host but also two assigned dinner service people who attend to you every night. I genuinely miss Tom, Dinesh, and Ozum, and wish them the very best wherever life leads them.

* the boat (we were on the Fantasy) is impeccably crafted. It’s just a beautiful environment.

* and it is C-L-E-A-N. I know cruise ships give a lot of people the heebie-jeebies; I don’t know how they pull it off, but that whole ship not only is spic-and-span at departure (just hours after the previous 3500 guests got off the damn thing), but maintained that way throughout. Well, other than the poop my niece found on one of the water slide stairs. (When she told Big she found “poo” on the stairs, his immediate response was “Winnie the Pooh?” The poo did in fact seem that unlikely under the circumstances, whereas the presence of a rotund, honey-licking bear waiting in line for the water slide perfectly conceivable.)

* while the Disney stimulation level is high, it manages to stay just slightly shy over sensory overload. The decor is subtle and tasteful. The requisite Disney entertainment is there – ALL there – but other than on the pool deck, if you don’t seek it out you don’t have to be exposed to it all that much. (The pool deck is a bit of an exception, but more on that later.)

* security, as it turns out, is very discreet. We found this out when a dad was detained for having done something “inappropriate”, and never seen again. I do not know if the cuffs are shaped like ears.

All in all, the quality on a Disney cruise is exactly as advertised. They really do all that stuff exactly right, and there’s not a person who could be disappointed. Except maybe with the food, which is fine, but nothing memorable.

Now, the negatives:
* So we were told, by anyone and everyone, that they have these “amaaaaaaazing” kids’ clubs on the boat, and that the kids would just love them and be there all the time and we’d have so, so much time to ourselves to be adults, to connect, to relax. And the experience is definitely designed for this purpose, because there are a truly remarkable number and array of “adults-only” zones where the alcohol runs heavily, if anything-but-freely, while the corresponding kids are checked into their designated club, unable to escape until their inebriated parent comes to bail them out. Big was eligible for the “tween” club, so he spent an hour or two there on maybe three or four occasions. But Medium and Small? 40 minutes. TOTAL. Before I got the text on my magic boat phone informing me they wanted their freedom. And damn, were they mad when I finally got there ten minutes later.

Needless to say, the kids declining to participate in “their” own activities meant Mr. Little Mama and I could not, either. In fact, on an occasion where we attempted to fulfill some of our marital obligations, we were unceremoniously burst in upon by not one but two of our children, one through the front door and the other literally exploding through the veranda curtains. Unsettling is not the word for it. And I even got a Brazilian wax for this.

* The kids’ pool situation is a total joke. There’s just no excuse for it. The pool deck, which is all of floor #11 and #12, has large adults-only areas at the fore and aft. One seemed quiet, the other seemed thisclose to hosting a wet t-shirt contest. The middle is taken up by the two smokestacks or operation areas or whatever they are, one of which also plays host to the “Aquaduck” water coaster (basically a water slide; fun enough, less exciting the fifth or sixth wait in line for 30 minutes), and in between there are two pools, set before a giant screen on which Disney everything is projected all day, every day. And these two pools are, combined, approximately the square footage of the pool in my backyard. One is a kiddie splash pool 18″ deep, which I saw drained for baby caca at least once. The other is a little over 5′ deep, oval, and no more than 20″ in length, which means it can accommodate 30 or so bodies bobbing up and down and going no place. It’s basically a plunge pool, and that’s all there is (other than one other water receptacle that basically amounts to a fountain about 8 kids can sit in at a time). So if your kid wants to “swim”, good luck. On the plus side, no need to bring the water wings or any of that crap, because your kid won’t get a chance to use them.

* Castaway Cay, the Disney “private island”, was an absolute disappointment. Yes, it’s a private Bahamian island with not a soul to be found thereon…. until the other 3,499 cruisers march (or scooter) off the boat and take up their lounge chairs. Yes, the water is a beautiful Caribbean blue… and so polluted with sunscreen that it’s too cloudy to see your feet. Yes, there are wonderful water slides and swim-up structures for the kids to play on… unless it’s low-tide, and they are closed. Yes, you can snorkel… after you pay $15 for a yellow vest even assuming you brought your own snorkel equipment, but don’t bother because the only fish in the water are transparent, and blend in seamlessly with the cloudy sunscreen water. The best part of Castaway Cay was watching a seagull snatch up an entire hot dog and take flight.

* Someone on this boat needs to figure out how to properly scramble an egg.

I, personally, have come to realize I am not a cruise “person”. I slept approximately one hour each night, which over time really took its toll, and whether it was motion- or anxiety-induced, was so queasy the last three days I could not eat. I felt terribly cooped up, and my plans to work out, read books, and relax went entirely unfulfilled. I also found it incredibly demanding to have to eat at designated times and locations, complete a million and one advance forms and processes (none of which seemed to accomplish much for me in advance), and show up with an assortment of miscellany such as lanyards, pirate costumes, and enough sunscreen to pollute an entire sea, without which we would have been a bit screwed. And after a point, the seemingly-endless number of PEOPLE, especially the Mouseheads with their t-shirts and door name tags and random pouches hanging from their knockers to store exactly what I do not know just became enough already!

But that said, there were many things about this experience that were great, and even with no interest in characters or Disney entertainment (90% Cinderella at the moment, as you might imagine) my boys did still have a great time and a real adventure. And just as importantly I think my mom did, too, and she was paying so that matters. If you love Disney, if you love cruising, and especially if you have girls, do it. If you don’t meet one of those criteria, well, you aren’t going to have a bad time, but it may not be the best vacation you’ve ever taken, either. And you may, as they say, need a vacation from your “vacation” after. Consider yourself warned.

Coming soon: a recap of the This Little Family after-trip to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade! And I’ll be back to recapping with a wrap-up of RHOBH, the return to NY, and possibly the launch of a Southern Charm edition. I’ve missed you! So glad to be home.

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The Unfortunate Misadventures of Amsterboy 🍷 RHOBH Season 5 Episode 18 Recap

One more episode to tie it all up with a bow, or a bondage strap and a nipple tassel depending on how The Glands’ shopping turned out in Amsterdam. Meh. Having done the porn shopping our ladies meet up in a Dutch flower market, because, you know, Holland = Tulips. This is where we find out that last night, in the Red Light District, The Glands got picked up by Max Pump’s childhood friend, and then went home and did the horizontal lambada. Max Pump is, what, 20? At best? And dear friends with Horshack? Yick. The Glands’ judgment in men about equals her taste in fashion, today on display in a vest made of Snuffleupagus and a pair of Mrs. Roper’s sunglasses. Yes, she packed that shit. Checked the bag and paid $50 to get it to Europe. She doesn’t just own it, she’s paying extra to take it out in public.

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So having gotten laid The Glands is in a far cheerier mood than we’ve seen her thus far, and she thinks she’s going to get back in Lady Pump’s good graces by giving her a handful of daisies and giggling “sorry!” in a flippant sort of way. Lady Pump is not having it; she may not have been slapped hard, but she was slapped all the same, and it’s never appropriate. She thinks The Glands needs to think before she does things. Yes, yes! The Glands thinks it was a joke that went to far, and Lady Pump has taken jokes too far with her many times, too. No, no! This is not unlike the situation on this past Wednesday’s Survivor where the fat Blue Collar guy with the pubey beard tried to “apologize” to the girl barrel racer with the weird growth on her neck by saying he was sorry for being an asshole but it was really her fault. And, no.

 

The Glands gives up and slinks off with her fistful of weeds, leaving Lady Pump with Yo, who tells her she tried really hard to talk to The Glands about her behavioral issues, “in the sweetest way”. Why are you doing it the “sweet way”, Lady Pump demands to know. Yo acknowledges that The Glands can be an asshole. “She’s your asshole, not mine,” declares Lady Pump. Yo does not want this bony asshole either.

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Back at the hotel, it’s teatime, and Lady Pump calls Mr. Lisa at home in LA to tell him what a nasty old broad The Glands is being, and he is pissed. Never a good idea to piss off Mr. Lisa at the close of the season, Glandsy. Buckle up. Meanwhile, Yo swings by The Glands’ room to give her a reprimand, dressed in her most Dutch dominatrix ensemble. The Glands is wearing a pink polka dot nightie thing from JC Penney while she spackles herself. Yo tells The Glands that at this point everyone hates her and apologizing isn’t going to cut it anymore, so The Glands says fine, I hate you old dried up menobags anyway, I’m going out to dinner with Amsterboy! So there! Off she giraffes in her Snuffey vest over a dirty-looking negligee to get overserved, drool in Amsterboy’s lap, and play hide the rookwurst. She’s so having the best time, guys, just check out her Instagram.

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Having unloaded The Glands on a play date that she thinks was her own idea, the mature women of RHOBH don their capes and assemble canalside for an elegant al fresco dinner. Lady Pump is slightly horrified that The Glands is giving the clogs to the child her Maxie went to nursery with, but on the other hand The Glands “can hump 22-year-olds” all she wants if it means Lady Pump doesn’t have to have dinner with her. Max is going to have a fit, she predicts. If this is going to tweak the unflappable MAX then you know banging The Glands has truly and irredeemingly foul implications.

So without the vilest of their companions, Kimmy is left to sit very, very quietly while the other ladies enjoy their last night in Amsterdam. Yo regales them with the story of how her ex boyfriend Julio Iglesias introduced her to this very restaurant some thirty years ago. To all the girls he’s loved before! Lady Pump somehow turns the talk to the live sex show she saw in Mexico some many years ago, involving donkeys and everything! Yo’s brother tells them he knows a great place they can go after dinner where the ladies get bananas up their cabooses and even smoke cigars rectally. Must we? Yo rises, thanks them all for coming, and cheers them all, even including the fallen and absent Glands. Ching ching!

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Back to LA, where life has been carrying on as usual. The Glands and Yo meet up at a “medispa” where Yo gets an IV vitamin infusion and Yo is getting 14-karat GOLD painted on her face. I think she needs a thick coat of hydrogen peroxide, myself, but that’s me. Yo tries to give The Glands her latest effort at a stern mommy lecture, but The Glands waves her off that she’s in crisis; Guy “Daddy” Glands is in the hospital experiencing some health issues related to his faulty heart valves, and as he’s still not talking to The Glands because she is embarrassing she’s left to get a ridiculous facial and meow about it rather than do something actually useful. So she gets all weepy on the facial table and the aesthetician has to wait until it’s over. The Glands is sad about dad, and whiny about the fact that “everyone else can do what they want” and she can’t. Yo tells her she can speak freely as long as she doesn’t “go below the belt”, which we all know means shut it. Yo still claims she believes Yo has a good heart, and thinks she fears rejection which is why she acts like an asshole. Yo, on the other hand, “comes from the heart”, so that’s why she gets to wear white capris and float around playing the harp.

Meanwhile, for reasons totally unexplained, Kimmy pays a visit to Yo Adrienne Maloof, who is preparing a public venue for some sort of mysterious event to promote some menthol-cigarette-flavored malt liquor or something. Kim thinks Adrienne is so incredibly easy to talk to; I think Adrienne is so incredibly boring. Kim tells Adrienne how she’s so mad at Kyle because after Kim got nasty and provoked Lipsey on Night 1 in Amsterdam, Kyle ran out the door in the vague direction of Lipsey, and general escape, rather than cling to her sister’s pantleg. Adrienne hems and hums and generally expresses pity. Meh.

Kyle, meanwhile, is lunching on kale with Lipsey and sharing their bliss at being back in LA where dogs wear clothes and ride in thousand dollar strollers, as they ought. Kyle shares that she and Kim are in another one of the many stretches they have experienced over their shared 40+ years in which they are not speaking; she intends to remedy this by inviting Kim to come to “the desert” alone where they can have it out. O dear. We all remember the first big Richards Sisters meltdown over “the desert”, don’t we? Before they go, Lipsey makes sure to tell Kyle that The Glands is running around LA telling everyone and everything that she, too, is concerned about her dear friend Kimmy’s sobriety, and even went so far as to suggest she needed an intervention. Well, actually it was a little more of a suggestion that everyone needed an intervention, but that part got sort of left out by Lipsey. Oh here comes.

Kyle gallivants off in her Maserati to Palm Springs to prepare her new, fabulous, palatial, very beige desert home for Kim’s arrival. She has worn her most orange caftan in order that she and her brown house can go totally INVISIBLE when the desert sun passes the horizon. On the way up or down, either way! Kim’s gonna freak!

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Back in LA, Lady Pump presides over her first big fat gay wedding at PUMP. Dominic and Magno are our grooms, and I have to question whether this is the first time they have met.

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Enough of that: Kyle swans around her super-fancy, totally devoid of personality desert upgrade lighting every smelly candle she could find at the area Kirkland’s and preparing to show her poor-relation sister just how much she’s upgraded her living arrangements from the inherited shithouse she stole from Kim just four seasons back. Kyle’s version of that oft- and yet never-satisfactorily-told story is that when Mama Richards died she left the house to all three girls. Kathy and Kim, per Kyle, wanted to be bought out because they already had homes in Palm Desert, so she and Mauricio obliged. (The whole issue of whether Kim’s childhood acting income actually bought the house for Mama Richards in the first place is left unaddressed.)

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Kim arrives in her chaufferred “MUSIC 08″ Suburban and questions why she has been brought here and cornered alone. Kyle greets her, shows her around, and tells her to put on her own caftan so they can lounge in the fourth living room. Water is poured. Here goes.

Kim is infuriated with Lipsey for conducting an investigation into her sobriety efforts which are none of her business. Kyle thinks it’s perfectly Lipsey’s business because she was at Eileen’s house where Kim had been popping pills, the logic of which I think means that everyone there for the poker party is now endowed with subpoena power. Kim starts meowing about how The Glands defended her, so Kyle pipes up with the news that after defending her The Glands started giraffing around LA on a campaign to launch Kim’s intervention.

And that’s when the wheels come off. Kim starts screaming about how Kyle stole her house and then sold it and didn’t give her a chance to even enter it one last time because Kyle put it in a “short escrow”, a claim Kyle swiftly shoots down by pointing out that Kim had enough time to ask that Kyle give the listing to Kim’s own daughter. So this now somehow rounds back to whether or not Kim was voluntarily bought out of the Stolen House, assertions that Kim was “not in a position to share a mortgage” at the time, and screams of “LYING!” Kyle wraps it up by telling Kim that The Glands is going to break her heart, they finish burning dinner, hug it out, and by sheer luck neither gets their curtain of hair caught on fire.

Next time, on the season FINALE: Nicky Hilton emerges from irrelevance to have a book signing at Kyle’s Caftan Palace; Lipsey backtracks on whether The Glands wanted to stage an intervenion; The Glands storms off; and Yo Adrienne pops out of a Happy Meal box or some such at her Big Fat Thing.

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“I, I, I…” 🍷 Vanderpump Rules Season 3 Reunion Part 2 Recap

A pfffft to the finish for Pump Rules; with all reunions I usually find that we could easily cover the material in one less part. If it’s a two-part reunion we only need one, if it’s a three-parter we’re usually about done after part deux. And last night was no exception.

We pick up where we left off with the discussion of Lady Hitler’s abandonment of henchman K2. K2 points out that she actually felt cut off from LH before Miami even happened so its not all because she went on Scheana’s bachelorette party; in fact, after the 2s went to their first couples therapy session Lady Hitler didn’t even ask how it went, so that sealed the deal on her decision to tag along. “You are thinking of it so black and white!” Lady Hitler despairs, causing EVERYONE to throw up their hands and roll their eyes, for there is no room for grey in the eyes of Lady Hitler.

It seems Lady Hitler was at least partly irked because it got back to her that K2 made some unflattering comments about Lady Hitler’s relationship with Snuffleupagus. K2 freely admits that she has had serious concerns about the way Lady Hitler has abandoned all pretense of independence for a life as a “kept woman” with Snuffy, and that she, K2, is entitled to her opinions about it whether Lady Hitler wants to hear them or not, especially considering how free LH is with her own on everyone and everything. “I, I, I….” stammers Lady Hitler, which immediately earns her the pile-on by T1. It’s always all about Stassi! So the subject shifts to her various unflattering remarks. “You know me,” she cries plaintively, just ninety seconds after claiming none of these people know her, insisting her comments are really funny jokes, you guys, especially that one about T1 being “half weasel, half vagina”. That’s some image.

Anyway: how did she feel about having to sit with Scheana at the club when she lost the bet? Like a loser. How does she feel about Jax’s weird Day of the Dead tattoo homage to a “hybrid Stassi and Carmen”? Weird. As does everyone else, to be fair. How does she feel about Lady Pump not being on Team Stassi? Well, Lady Pump doesn’t understand her, and is also an “old lady”. Lady Pump’s elephant eyelashes narrow.

Moving on: Jax acknowledges he was overly invested in trying to pry the 2s apart and that his meddling was a mistake. Scheana acknowledges that no one could or would “motorboat a dick”, least of all K2. Lady Pump praises K2 for how nicely she’s grown up this season, and T1 offers her a slow clap for being “most improved”.

On the other hand, K1 has regressed into infantile idiocy; even her sort-of-friend Lady Hitler tried to shut it down when the Miami thing got obsessive. Mr. Andy asks her to set the record straight on how exactly That Miami Girl ended up in LA and K1 explains that (a) she initiated contact with her on Instagram (I Instagram so infrequently I didn’t even know this was a feature); (b) The Miami Girl came to LA to visit her dad at her own expense; and (c) K1 didn’t have control of the timing, odd as it was coming on the heels of what seemed like a peacemaking come-to-Jesus with the weepy T1 in Miami. Just, whatever. She’s over it now. And so is Horshack, who didn’t like her unhealthy obsession, but was willing to live with the crazy, because they are so in love. Dumbass.

T1 and Ariana point out that none of the various accounts and details made sense, whereas T1’s explanation of events was the only version that did. Horshack insists that The Miami Girl’s description of T1’s wanger was a smoking gun of course, but K2 dismisses that entirely on the grounds that a wanger looks like a wanger, and the suggestion that T1’s “takes a hard right or something” is a little bit absurd (and also, perhaps means The Miami Girl is confusing T1 with Bill Clinton because as I recall from my young adulthood in the 90’s a similar claim was made of the presidential penis by one or the other of the brazen hussies he tried to hump). K1 now acknowledges that she deserved to be fired after the disrespectful scene she made at SUR. T1 claims Horshack learned all the bedroom tricks he now uses on K1 from him, which is (a) gross, and (b) best left unexplained further.

Mr. Andy shifts the subject to Scheana’s Big Fat Tacky Wedding. Scheana defends her crop top wedding dress and says there are like four people on Pinterest planning to copy it. Lady Hitler does not want to take back her rude comments about it, and T1 points out that the difference between Lady Hitler and others is that she has “no heart behind” what she says, just a big black hole.

All of a sudden everyone is talking at once and the only interesting part of this whole reunion comes out: it appears that Stassi once made a video of herself masturbating and sent it to “a boyfriend”, who shared it with Scheana, who told people about it and, per Stassi, was going to take it to TMZ. And now all this time Stassi has been so busy being mad and bitchy about this unspoken crisis without actually looking like she had any reason to be when she really, really did so that’s why she’s not friends with Scheana and never will be.

So on the one hand that explains a lot of things (why she was so mad at Scheana, why she considered K2 befriending her even a little something of a betrayal), and when I first heard about this had me speculating whether the boyfriend in question was Jax and that’s the source of the horrible things she has to live through daily that she keeps hinting at. But now Lady Pump is tweeting about how everyone (all the cast Stassi hates so much as not her friends) made a pact not to speak of the tape all season, how Lady Pump (who Stassi dismisses out of hand) paid the boyfriend off herself to make it go away – and how no one intended to bring it up at the reunion until Stassi did herself (possibly thinking the reference to it would be edited out). So given all that, I now think Stassi is even a bigger asshole than I gave her credit for (and a moron, too). Also, I am still wondering whether Jax gave Stassi The Unscratchable Itch.

Mr. Andy changes topics to K1 and Horshack’s fight in the parking lot. No, no! We are not interested! But wait; what is wrong with K1’s face? It’s droopy on the one side, like uneven Botox or something. Also, does she have gray roots? Blech. Then he asks Jax about his varying accounts about whether or not T1 Had Sexual Relations With That Miami Girl and he finally acknowledges, once and for all, that he was not there, that he was at CVS buying beer, that he would not know either way, and that he repeated what the girl told him as fact that he knew firsthand, which it was not. K1 pipes up that maybe, just maybe, she isn’t the root of the problem. Oh you are still the root, girl!

Also: when are the 2s getting engaged? Not yet, even as at the time of taping T2 was just one week away from the six-month deadline imposed by K2. I’m just glad he didn’t propose at the reunion because that would have been horrible.

Finally: is Lady Hitler really leaving SUR for good? She says yes, and that she’s really excited to walk out of this reunion. Ariana thanks her for telling K1 to shut it on the subject of the Miami Girl. Stassi and K2 will not be friends again; Stassi wails that K2 “changed the rules”, and of course no one changes the rules except Stassi. Lady Pump is done with her, too, and of course so is Scheana. Stassi intends to move on to a podcast, like The Glands, which sounds so Napster-era to me. Here comes irrelevance! Lady Pump praises everyone but K1 and Stassi for growing and showing, and they all drink sangria. Cheers, bitches! The End.

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