“I’m Fun!” “Not Really!” 🍊 RHOC Season 10 Episode 12 Recap

Before we get to the smelly car racing and dining in dust with shrieking mimis, raise your hand if you are surprised that a Real Househusband has been caught on this Ashley Madison list. The only surprise for me is that Josh Taekman was the first – and so far only – one busted. Where are these lists that people are scouring for dirt? I read today that there are only THREE zip codes in the entire United States with no Ashley Madison accounts. How is that? I’d never even heard of this operation.

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Anyway, my take on the Taekmans is that I feel sorry for them. I think Josh is out of his league with Kristen, and knows it, which is why he’s seeking to get his ego stroked by additional attention. I think Kristen has her own self-esteem issues settling for him and even upgrading her perfectly-perfect figure to please him. Whether or not he actually did anything, they have to spend some time having a hard think about things. Sad. (Also: she’s now probably a sure thing for season 8 of RHONY if she wants it. And the big question is: who’s next?)

On the flip side of extracurricular marital activities, we have Tammy’s son Ryan and his baby mama, who are checking out Vic’s Brown House as a possible venue for their upcoming wedding. Such a scenario would have made for a natural finale for season 10, except (a) I don’t think it happened as I don’t think they have gotten married anywhere yet, and (b) he’s recently been arrested for domestic violence, which doesn’t bode well for them getting married anywhere in the future. Anyway, after a little chit chat about weddings and churchy stuff, like Tammy’s potential baptism (in which I fully expect a bolt of lightning to strike her), the “lovebirds” hang outside while Vic n’ Tam chat on the couch.

This is when Tammy fills Vic in on What The Psychic Said, which Shannon was getting ready to reveal before Vic cut her off and stormed out. Vic reacts to What The Psychic Said with utter certainty that he is predicting a cure for Donn2, the very cure to which they have so fervently prayed to The Lord. However, if it’s bad news Vic doesn’t give a goose poop what the psychic said, nor does she care what Everyone Hates Meghan has to say about anything, because she’s 30 and stupid. “She can kiss my ass!” yowls the OG. It won’t be hard to locate…

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Everyone but Vic, who is pissy and has better things to do, anyway, are off to a NASCAR race with Everyone Hates Meghan and her husband, Grumpy Cat. Meghan explains that because Grumpy Cat is such a big deal in the sports world they get regular begged to come sit in suites at sporting events such as NASCAR. Being on a reality TV show geared at NASCAR’s latest growing demographic wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with it.

Anyway, the Edmonds and the Dubrows are there pre-dawn, intelligently attired for a filthy sport in white pants and heels, and get introduced to a bunch of car racing people and are like “hullo”. Has Heather Dubrow not watched Cars with her people? Ever? Does Michael Waltrip not at least ring a bell with Darrell Cartrip? Does she not recognize the voice? This is absurd. I don’t know the first thing about NASCAR but I know that much, thank you, Pixar. They get in the pace car and drive around in circles for a while before going up to the suite and whispering about how the OG is so so mad about What The Psychic Said and accused Meghan of insinuating things. Well, you did, says H. Dubrow. You is gonna git it, girl! Mmmm hmmm.

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More white pants arrive in the form of Tammy and Shannon, and black pants in the form of H. Dubrow depart. They sit in the race car which has no steering wheel (?) and then go back up to the suite to gossip about What The Psychic Said and whether EHM was insinuating things. The menfolk are finding this tiresome, as am I. EHM wants to be mad at Shannon, but it was actually TAMMY who outed her. Also, EHM’s concern is purely from the heart and is an outpouring of concern for Leanne, and also Donn2. RIGHT. But now she’s an asshole, but she’s in good company, because Shannon is “the first asshole”, and Tammy has been one her whole life. Sounds about right.

The workweek comes around and Tammy stops by her Keller Williams office to discuss jumpstarting her hibernating career as a Realtor®. She’s gonna need to pump up her income because she’s also committed to putting a down payment of nearly $8K on Son Ryan and The Baby Mama’s new rental, and is no doubt going to have to pony up the $3500 monthly, too, since Eddie is not rehiring Ryan at CUT and what other options does he have, all no skills like that? Oh, and Tammy’s not telling Eddie about this financial outlay, either. You is gonna git it, girl! Mmmm hmmm.

Shannon is painting in the craft room with her girls, because she is Fun Mom. “Not really!” shouts the sassy peg-leg one. Shannon feels that since the girls were exposed to the dark, unseemly side of her collapsing marriage, it’s important for them to witness it’s phoenix-like resurrection with more loving communication and peaceful familyness. They are going to start this resurrection with Shannon’s upcoming birthday dinner. This is a bad idea. Birthdays are like New Year’s and Prom, never measure up to the anticipation.

Another birthday girl is Vic, who is being escorted onto a barge piloted by Captain Bob for a private dinner at sea. This is what they skipped NASCAR for. Vic is in a cocktail dress while Donn2 is in his customary untucked maternity blouse and mom jeans. This is Vic’s first birthday without her mommy, and it’s a big time party all about her, even though Donn2 is dying of The Cancer. He appreciates that he’s not in this alone. I wish we were not in this with either one of them.

Our pretend Realtor®, Tammy, is pretend showing what is apparently Heather Locklear’s old house to EHM, who is pretending Grumpy Cat might actually buy it for her. I am increasingly suspicious that Grumpy Cat is hemming and hawing about a real estate investment because he’s hoping EHM will somehow get lost and thereby resolve this terrifying marital situation he’s found himself in. This whole scene is here merely to illustrate that EHM, who was born after the house was constructed in 1983 and is only vaguely familiar with Tommy Lee and Richie Sambora, who knocked boots with Heather in the master, is Very Young. We Know.

Time for Shannon’s birthday dinner. Shannon has very high hopes for this birthday excursion, because last year Mr. Shannon fulfilled his marital duties in accordance with the Vanderpump Rule, and then skipped out to frolic nude with his lady on the side. Shannon is still hurt and raw about that episode, and this dinner is going to do nothing to resolve it because Mr. Shannon decided to drag the entire family out to some sports pub for fatty short ribs and a whole sectioned lime garnishing Shannon’s Grey Goose. The birthday queenie is gravely disappointed, the kids are having panic attacks, and Mr. Shannon pouts about how he can’t do anything right, which makes Shannon whine some more about the tension. May I suggest that next birthday you order take out from Five Guys and eat at home? Then the peg leg wouldn’t have to miss Teen Titans Go or whatever it is she’s been complaining about. Birthdays are inevitably going to be a fail, you should know that by 51, girl!

So: Heather has invited everyone, and a few randoms, to Chateau Dubrow Part Deux to ooh and ahh over the progress and eat a dusty lunch enhanced by drop cloths and the sound of table saws whining. This is going to be the first time EHM has to see the OG since What The Psychic Said, and she’s shaking in her boots like a science lab skeleton in a Scooby Doo episode. Welcomed by hot servers Doug & Zach, who will be getting their own spinoff soon, the gang tours the 14 baths (one more than Shannon has in Palais Beador, an increase she sniffs crosses the bounds of obnoxiousness), the luggage room, and the separate toilet rooms (key to marital happiness, Heather declares; I am in agreement, as I believe would be Ashley Madison) before they arrive in the Marie Schrader Memorial Ballroom for a carb-free, dust-enhanced luncheon of tofu and poo with air-sauced arugula.

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The hostess has them clink around the table for friendship, and the tension is thick. Much in the way that I can’t seem to help taking The Lord’s name in vain in front of the devout, EHM can’t seem to stop herself from talking about The Cancer now that The OG is staring her down from across the table. After telling Shannon that she’s got a call in for Leanne to the cancer expert Donn2 has no time for, EHM decides to address the dead cat on the table head on. She understands from Vic’s text telling her to fuck off that Vic is upset with her. “You’re damn right I am!” Vic shrieks, finger-waving and don’t-you-evers and all. The rest of the table freezes like deer in headlights. This is a good sign, though, for Tammy, who thinks Vic wouldn’t be freaking out if she actually knew Donn2 was lying. (Note that this doesn’t mean Tammy doesn’t think Donn2 is lying; it means she doesn’t think Vic KNOWS he’s lying nor that Vic is lying FOR him.)

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There’s no way this was going to go well, but EHM is not gonna give up without a fight. She tells Vic that Tammy and Heather said Vic had never been to the doctor with Donn2. Heather’s eyes bug and she gulps. EHM just can’t understand how Donn2 would not be bothered with City of Hope, which her beloved Leanne can’t even get into, and how Vic can allow this to happen! It PAINS her, EHM! Pains her heart! Vic is disgusted and orders EHM, who has only met Donn2 twice at this point, to mind her own damn business. EHM retorts that if it’s fine for Vic to have an opinion about EHM’s stepdaughter, then why isn’t it fine for EHM to have an opinion about the wisdom or lack thereof in Donn2’s treatment choices? She’s researched reservatrol, and it’s just an excuse to drink red wine! “SHUT UP!” screams Vic. “You’re just an old woman pissed off and bitter at the world, you shut up!” EHM insolently retorts. Oh shit. TO BE CONTINUED.

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Next time: it gets continued, all right. After H. Dubrow fails to get EHM into Time Out, there’s a kink party. Somehow I think they are going to find Grumpy Cat snarling in the corner.

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Summer Reading 📙 Five for Friday

It’s been months – months I tell you! since I’ve posted anything other than a reality recap on this blog. Believe it or not, I do a lot of other things besides watching horrible women on Bravo and writing about it afterward. One of my favorite things to do on my “own time” is read. Here are five books I’ve read this summer that I have really enjoyed; hopefully one or two are new suggestions for you and might make your end-of-summer reading list.

1. The Luckiest Girl Alive, by Jessica Knoll

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The Luckiest Girl Alive is, unsurprisingly, being called “this summer’s Gone Girl“, and it’s entirely due the praise. (And is much better than Dark Places, “this summer’s other book by the author of Gone Girl, which I couldn’t get into on two separate occasions.) Jessica Knoll’s first novel brings us the improbably-named Ani FaNelli, a bitter, ruthlessly-ambitious magazine editor in Manhattan who appears to have it all, having fought hard to get it. At first Ani is nearly impossible to like, but as she tells her story – starting in her adolescence, tracing through to how she got here and now – it becomes impossible not to begin to empathize and see a bit of yourself in her (at least, if you are female). Just when you think you’ve arrived at the twist that you anticipated, suddenly there’s another one that you never saw coming. Unlike The Girl On The Train, another current novel to which it’s been frequently compared, Ani is a protagonist that you don’t want to take out back and throttle four times a chapter. There’s sardonic humor, raw tragedy, and the flickering lights of Manhattan.

2. The Woman I Wanted to Be, by Diane Von Furstenberg

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OK, first of all: stupidest title ever. Second? This isn’t particularly well-written, and on the whole left me thinking this woman is perfectly ridiculous. But: I love DVF, both for her fashion and her larger-than-life personality, and to be honest the only reason I downloaded this book was because a magazine article about another member of her family made me wonder about the dirt. I’ve now come to realize that So Morgan is totally Single White Femaling DVF and hoping (a) it works, and (b) nobody notices. This is a fun, light read, dancing through the fashion and social whirls of my lifetime with plenty of name-dropping, juicy gossip, and preposterous activities all thanks to a true diva of fashion, who in the end seems genuinely filled with love and joy. Who minds that?

3. The Hundred-Year House, by Rebecca Makkai

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I picked this paperback up on a whim passing through my favorite small bookseller, immediately before Small got his fingers pinched in the door hinge and we had to pay and make a break for it. He came out unscathed in the end and I ended up with an unexpected jewel of a book to read at the end of our summer travels. This is the story of a fictional house: Laurelfield, constructed in the northern suburbs of Chicago (my native stomping grounds) by and for the outrageously wealthy industrialist Devohr family of Canada, several generations of whose members lived in it, tragically died in it, and may have carried on haunting it as it became an artists’ colony before reverting back to sheltering, and possibly destroying the lives of, more Devohr descendants. The novel is told in three parts: on the cusp of the Y2K; in the 50s, after the colony; and finally during the last days of the colony itself. Only until the final paragraph do all the threads tie together. This is one book I’d love to re-read to catch the Easter eggs I missed, and reminds me that there’s something you get reading a good story on paper that eludes digital reading. Also: be sure to read the Acknowledgements to the final line.

4. The Ride of Our Lives, by Mike Leonard

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If you watch the Today show you might know Mike Leonard, and might even have seen some of his dispatches from the road as he criss-crossed America in an RV with his elderly parents and several of his children along for the ride. Mr. Leonard grew up and still lives in my hometown, so he’s a local celebrity and the flashbacks to his childhood feature the same locations and experiences of mine. This is really not as much a memoir as a love letter to Mike’s wacky, often unintentionally hilarious parents, the wine-loving, profanity-spewing Marge and the sober and effusive Jack. This is a easy read that will make you laugh out loud, love Mike’s family, and want to hit the road with your own. (And most of the reviews on Amazon erroneously refer to some sort of nonfiction book about Barry Bonds and steroids in baseball, so disregard.)

5. A Pleasure and a Calling, by Phil Hogan

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So this is the book I am currently reading, and I offer the recommendation with the caveat that I am only on chapter four and have no idea where this is going. But I am one hundred percent absorbed. William Heming is an “estate agent” (read: realtor) in a charming English village (aren’t they all?), who has a wee little secret hobby: he is a peeper. Not a window peeper; no, Mr. Heming has the keys to every house he’s ever sold, and he likes to use them to keep tabs on things. I love anything told in a droll British voice, and I especially love British humor, and so far there’s a lot of it in dark form. But I can already feel the tension building and the unexpected about to unfold. Anyone who leaves an unbagged dog turd as a calling card is my kind of antihero.

Happy weekend, and happy reading!

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“Everybody Who Did Alastair: Raise Your Hand” 🍎 RHONY Season 7 Reunion Part 1 Recap

So before the RHONY reunion got started I saw this commercial:

Is this meant to be H. Dubrow and the boy twin, or what? Where is the #hashtag necklace? Really, she’s such a dork.

Anyway, let’s hop to it. It’s reunion time! And yes, I am blazing right past the finale episode, which was a whole lot of nothing other than the glimpse of Skinny B’s new apartment, to the rehashing. Mr. Andy has arranged the women into The Hots and The Nots.

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At the left hand of Mr. Andy we have the washed up old bags in their Vanna White Kollection getups; well, but for So Morgan who is wearing SoSoNY.

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They all have old lady hair and So’s is a total prom helmet. I thought I heard The Kountess did something new with hers but I see no difference. She is, however, worst dressed at this reunion, which is a bit of a surprise. I am really over this whole couch.

On the right hand we have the swinging youngsters.

IMG_1942.JPGHoly haboobies Kristen Taekman! Can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow?! I don’t entirely understand what is going on with Holla’s green silk bathrobe unless it’s a homage to The Kountess’ “don’t be, all, uncool” hangover look, and while I thought I heard Mr. Andy say Radzi was the best dressed I have to say overall I like Beth’s look most of all. I suspect Mr. Andy wants to be the only one in pants at a reunion. Very, very disappointed with Kristen. I usually love what she’s wearing and I not only do not love this, I hate the hair. IMO Kristen has (had?) the best lob in lobs and now it’s just I don’t know what this is, hopefully extensions. And no bold necklace? Kristen! Don’t give up, there’s still a chance for you!

Assessing this bunch I think I have decided what the mortal weakness is with this franchise: these bitches are OLD. Kristen is 38; she’s the only legitimate “housewife”, and the only one we don’t know entirely too much about at this point. I realize we may know all there is to know, but I like her. Beth is 44, Holla is 45, Doritos and The Kountess are 50, Radzi and So are 51, and Mo is 58! What this means to me is that the one person – Kristen – who can most get away with ridiculous behavior is actually the one least engaged in it. It’s just embarrassing and stale to watch The Golden Girls carry on like this after a while. I know many of The Hots are the ones leaving but I’d like to see the whole Nots couch get replaced. At least Holla is retiring “holla!”, which is very welcome news.

Mr. Andy of course begins with Queen B, because this whole season has basically been Bethenny After Disaster in which she rises again, like a phoenix, to reclaim the city. We’re treated to a montage of Beth Crying, Beth Sassing, Beth Quipping, and Beth Banter. She acknowledges she can be aggressive and abrasive and a know-it-all. Big news. Also, she’s still not divorced after three+ years, which we also all knew, causing So to pipe up from the end of the opposite couch “I’m ten years now!” WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT YOUR DIVORCE, SO? No one has asked you a single question about this in any of the times you have brought this up this season or any of the previous ones other than maybe the first one you were on. You were married to an old man, he ditched you, he’ll be dead soon, and there’s nothing more to say about it. NO ONE CARES ANYMORE.

Back to Beth, the real subject of interest here. Beth refers to “the things we can never discuss”, again, thereby discussing and inviting speculation upon The Things, and make some vague references to the mysterious workings of Fame and how it fleets. Beth suggests that when she left Jason he was sad about the loss of fame and wanted to take it away from her, too. It seems to me that there are plenty of opportunities for famewhores to find some lingering attention should they want it, and that Jason doesn’t based on his behavior. I’d say more likely that he feels burned by the whole thing and doesn’t want it to be part of his or his child’s life any further. Which isn’t to totally defend him, because maybe he is being an asshole, too; I just don’t think that sort of reaction would be altogether unreasonable. Clearly Beth is prohibited from speaking too directly of Jason or the situation, but Radzi is not and pipes up about how obstructive Jason is, refusing to answer his phone when Beth calls for her appointed twice-daily chats with little Bryn. I wish for all their sakes that they could be more at ease and unconstructed about this. That child is screwed.

Moving on to other Bethy subjects, she tells Mr. Andy that she felt very welcomed back upon her return to the franchise, which leads to Holla’s first interruption and the first grenade toss at The Kountess. It seems that after Lu’s estate sale, Holla, Radzi, Lu, and Mo had a drink in which The Kountess toasted to “taking Bethenny down”. GASP. Meanness and plotted conflicts? Who could imagine such a thing? Lu dismisses this assertion as a figment of Holla’s imagination, or in the alternative something so meaningless and unimportant that she has forgotten it entirely, like So’s underpants. Whatever, Beth couldn’t care less. It was weird at first pretending to hang with people she didn’t even know, but she’s done it before and did it fine again on round 2.

Mr. Andy asks about Doritos’ birthday in The Berkshires, and the Holla/Beth implosion. Holla explains the ridiculous comment she made comparing the loss of her nanny to the loss of Beth’s marriage, and gets a little teary talking about how essential this woman has been to her child’s health over the last nine years. Her point is that everyone has their shit, and I’ll give her that. Holla and Beth circle each other for a while on their weird, intense dinner interaction, on Beth’s meltdown, on Holla hassling Beth about not inviting Kristen to her birthday party, etc. Beth basically feels like Holla is smothering her, a vibe confirmed when Holla totally interrupts Beth and talks over her in explaining how Beth feels about Holla hijacking her jock at all times. Enough said.

Next we turn to Atlantic City and the shitshow that is So Morgan. Holla remains incensed – INCENSED – about being left to cool her jets in the cold, damp gangway that So refers to as a “foyer”. So continues to make excuses for herself and her interns, but even Lu tells her she was in the wrong. Mr. Andy changes the subject to So’s efforts to shove her tongue down Lu’s mouth and asks about her sexuality. Is she bi? She’s vague, and maybe has explored ladybits. Or she is too drunk to know for sure either way. I just find her supremely unattractive so I am not at all interested in this.

Instead we talk about So’s inebriation levels, and whether her problem is drinking, drinking + pills, or not drinking at all in the So version of events. So, naturally, deflects, and tries to claim Doritos is as bad as she is. Doritos isn’t having it, and neither is anyone else. Also, this bullshit about “partying with John-John”? Crap. “John-John”‘s very close friend, widow of his cousin and very best friend, tells So it’s offensive. “I get that you’re a drunk, but you’re not funny, and no one called him “John-John”. [Which: I’ve heard before. No one actually called him that except the media and people who didn’t actually know him, and he hated it.] It was really…” and we never find out, because everyone piles on and interrupts, as they are wont to do. “Do you believe your own bullshit?” Beth asks. Actually, So does! Mo insists that So lived “the most colorful life” and she just can’t give it up. I don’t know, I just think this woman is boring, stupid, unattractive, and tiresome.

Mr. Andy seems bored with it, too, and shifts to more Radzi talk, now about The Chef, The Kountess, and the associated nonsense. Mostly this is about the ongoing Twitter feud between these two broads as opposed to anything that happened onscreen this season. The Kountess continues to insist that The Chef was actively dating The Niece when Radzi swooped in and stole him away, that The Niece was heartbroken, and that she, The Kountess, was appalled that Radzi (a) caused emotional trauma to The Niece, and (b) gave The Help The Boots. Radzi claims this is all patently false, that it had been a year since The Niece and The Chef were involved, that they were not planning a vacation together when Radzi swooped in, that The Kountess didn’t give a shit until the season started running and there was relevance to maintain, and that furthermore The Kountess gives barely-legals the boots in public bathrooms all the time so who is she to get all worked up about this? Damn, she even skinny-dips with The Help in the form of 20-year-old houseboys of the Caribbean! And laughs at Radzi for being childless! “How dare you!” the Kountess shouts, haughtily, as is her wont.

I’m sure we’re nowhere near the end of this but here’s my take: I think The Kountess is caught in a do-as-I-say, not-as-I-do situation here, so the allegations of hypocrisy carry merit. I also think the way Radzi picked up The Chef was a bit socially awkward, and that the way she carried out the launch of this relationship like a covert operation speaks for itself. But more than anything: apparently this niece is now – NOW – 19 years old. And the chef is 28. Which means that whether the relationship had been over for a year or not, when it was happening she was at best barely, BARELY legal and dating a man who was almost 30. I have a far bigger issue with that sort of age dynamic than the one The Chef has with Radzi. Why is The Kountess so hell-bent on the sanctity of a relationship that was just this side of statutory? Methinks The Kountess wanted to bang him herself, that’s what methinks, and like I said, they are all too old to be carrying on like this.

Next time: more shiitake and shinola, plus Mo passes out on the couch.

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“You’re Only Fun When You’re Drinking” 🍊 RHOC Season 10 Episode 11 Recap

I thought I’d feel totally liberated and plunge into getting on with MY life with the first ever first full week of all my kids being in school full time last week… not so much. Shooting for it again week #2. Also finding it challenging to get back into the swing of things is our Shannon, who is stuffing load upon load upon load of accumulated laundry into her fifty washing machines in the in-home laundromat on her second floor. I have laundry envy, and I don’t even have a second floor.

When the spin cycle begins, she and Mr. Shannon haul The Naughty Twins into the parlor to have a sit down over The TP Incident. Mr. Shannon is more understanding of the incident, recollecting with a faraway gleam in his eye the pumpkin-annihilated mailboxes of his wayward youth, but Mommy is unamused and determined to be disciplined about discipline. “You’re only fun when you’re drinking!” shouts the one on crutches, who you can tell is the naughtier of the two. Mr. Shannon’s faraway gleam instantly darkens to a look of sheer terror. Dammit, kids, don’t repeat things Daddy says out loud!

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They will have a private word about that later; for now, the sentence is that the twins have to write letters of apology to the homeowners, who happen to have a boy living in their house who was the reason they got TP’d in the first place and also the reason The Naughty Twins don’t want to confront their misbehavior outside of the parlor. “You don’t understand a ten-year-old life!” wails the innocent bystander twin, begging for a “warning”. Unlike in the past, Mommy and Daddy are not gonna budge. Peg Leg stomps out defiantly and Innocent Bystander scampers behind. I suspect these “apology letters” are going to turn out about as high-quality as some of Middle’s “thank you notes” of the past, but the point is made, I suppose. It’s hard to be mad at these two; they’re so much cuter than Milania.

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Speaking of Parenting, Meghan giraffes into a bistro for lunch wearing entirely too many Boston Proper trends at once with Grumpy Jim, whose feet are in perfectly hideous beat up flip flops that you know smell like balls and need to go through the dishwasher.

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For those of you concerned that The Glands’ exodus from RHOBH meant no more “giraffing” references, I suppose Meghan Edmonds’ arrival in the OC has blessed us with at least that. Not much more, however. It’s been two-and-a-half or three weeks since these two have been alone together, and considering that Grumpy Jim does not seem the least bit full of the poison. No, actually, he seems like he can’t be bothered. Everything about this relationship is off.

Anyway, Meghan wants to talk Parenting with Grumpy Jim, specifically complain that The OG criticized them for buying Grumpy Jim’s delinquent daughter a car she does not deserve. Grumpy Jim gets grumpy and says it’s none of The OG’s damn business and that a person telling someone else how to raise their child makes him want to blow a fuse. Meghan immediately replies that she can’t be expected to “correct seventeen years of parenting mistakes”. Um, HELLO? Grumpy Jim, the fuse? Come on, dude! BLOW IT.

Further, Meghan claims she’s only living in the OC, rather than St. Louis with Grumpy Jim, to accommodate Hayley’s high school attendance at the virtual high school she does not attend. Not at ALL to accommodate her burgeoning reality TV career. Not. At. All. Also, Hayley does not have a “college plan”, she whines. What, like a 529? No, a plan to go. To college. Grumpy Jim grumps that Hayley “lacks drive” and is going to have to deal with the consequences, or get a purple pill for it, or something like that. Hell if he cares, no one should get their hopes up over that loser kid. Meghan whines that she “doesn’t know her role”. Girl, your role is to STFU.

Tammy’s at home with Eddie and Mama Tama. It seems she’s planning to host a “booty class” for the girls and she has GOT to practice the chorey. Also, Ryan is moving home so Tammy can have more access to Her Baby, but he’s not going to be allowed to come back to work at CUT because Eddie has had enough of that shit. Oh, also: Tammy is introducing Meghan and Heather to her psychic! He’ll no doubt reveal a number of extremely important hidden secrets that will automatically be accepted as fact because he’s been right about a bunch of other shit, like that Tammy’s Baby was going to be a girl (what are the chances? 50%) and that Gramma Tama liked to brush hair. What a brilliant, brilliant idea you fuckhead.

Naturally, the next topic is The OG and Donn2, and we find them at the Brown House where Vic is setting up her trashtastic Mourning Mama corner of the backyard, complete with yard angels and cheesy Hallmark wind chimes that say “I Miss My Mama”.

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As though they have not had any sort of social interaction since Vic returned from Moorea, they catch up over fresh pressed green juice; despite the inevitable drama and her own stupid behavior, Vic had a great time in Moorea and it was good to get away from her mourning funk and get completely fucked up instead. She’s so grateful for Donn2, who, in one of those contrived Informational Moments shares with Vic that the next day he’s seeing a new, holistical doctor who has magically healed The Cancer before in his very own self. This is Donn2’s third recurrence of The Cancer and this time, chemo is not working. (I have a beloved client who has been going through chemo that is not working, and you can tell at a glance. This guy? Not only does he not appear to be sick, he doesn’t appear to be receiving chemo, either.) Vic is nonplussed that he is abandoning conventional treatment.

So speaking of THAT, Tammy and Meghan and Heather are meeting up in San Juan del Capistrano to have lunch somewhere that is all too familiar with Heather as a patron to meet Tammy’s Psychic. The patio is full, but the inside dining room is completely empty of people willing to be drawn into this shitshow. It seems this is Tammy’s first time actually meeting The Psychic in person (he’s able to channel spirits ably via phone or FaceTime), so everyone is very surprised when The Psychic turns out to be none other than Gold Medal Figure Skater Scott Hamilton!

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Who knew? Foregoing his customary pre-consult meditation, or even a bite of salad, Scott Hamilton gets down to business: (a) Heather: the girl twin named Max is her grandmother reincarnated; (b) Meghan is going to have one child, and needs to Let It Go and drop the facade (?); (c) Shannon has a problem with Meghan and finds her to be a “threat” (as she should); (d) and then there’s Vic. Her mother just died, that’s true, but he doesn’t “see” the cancer. GASP. Could he be faking? (Or maybe he’s just on the road to healing? Couldn’t that be an explanation?) Meghan totally thinks he’s faking. She knows someone who did that and collected all sorts of pity presents and everything. Tammy instructs everyone not to breathe a word. Heather is very, very sorry she came to this lunch now. When you roll in the mud with pigs…

Time for Booty Class, you guys! First on the scene is Meghan, who has no butt whatsoever and cannot get implants because, you know, they blow up, or invert, or all sorts of ghastly things and you have to go to Brazil anyway.

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One by one they all roll in, followed by a couple of NonWives, and Tammy sends them all out to run around the building a few times. Shannon, who leaks pee when she runs, stays inside and breathes hard instead. Shannon needs to get some piddle pads and suck it up. Let’s get physical, girls!

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After the workout, which looks reasonably challenging and which Tammy made up, a fact that I find slightly alarming because my friends who have seen her at Les Mills training tell me she’s not certified to teach, Donn2 shows up and Tammy presents him with a birthday cake and sparkling sake, two things he’s explicitly NOT supposed to be consuming on The Cancer Diet. Vic, who has been berating Donn2 for even thinking about bread, breathes not a word about the sugar, alcohol, or flour. Hmm. Meghan invites them all to a car race; sounds fun, but Vic and Donn2 have other plans. So how’s The Cancer? someone asks. Glad you asked, says Donn2. It’s not good, he’s “pausing” chemo to try another treatment involving 90 days of antioxidants and red wine administered by a doctor who himself had the cancer Donn2 “HAD” and cured himself. Had? HAD? HMM?! Donn2 has been going around with The Cancer on and off for five years, chemo has worked before but now he’s going to try something new. Vic picks at lint on her yoga pants. Shannon has Shocked Face. Tammy thinks Vic needs to go to the doctor with Donn2, but Vic’s busy and anyway she made him a Trapper Keeper for the reports and stuff. Just then, Ryan conveniently materializes with Tammy’s Baby, so everyone oohs and ahhs including Heather, who didn’t wash her hands and never did with four babies. (I didn’t either so I have to agree with her on this one. A few germs do a body good.)

So when Vic and Donn2 leave it’s time to talk behind their backs about The Cancer. Shannon shares that she’s shocked Donn2 is seeking this whole airy-fairy tofu-and-poo approach because he never bothered to consult the legion of cancer experts Shannon personally set him up with at City of Hope. In fact, he claimed he didn’t have his file and now here it turns out he has had a Trapper Keeper all along! Well, pipes up Meghan, that’s because he doesn’t actually have The Cancer – Scott Hamilton, Gold Medal Skating Psychic, said so! MEEP! says Tammy.

Shannon can’t believe this could all be a fake thing. Meghan can believe it, though, for sure. And did everyone hear him say he HAD The Cancer? Tammy thinks he’s sketchy. Heather thinks they are all falling to the Power of Suggestion. Meghan thinks he’s totally lying, and the proof is that after complaining that Donn2 didn’t treat his previous occurrences aggressively enough now they are going all juice and antioxidant on The Cancer’s ass? Well, that can work, says Shannon. Right, says Meghan. Shannon thinks Meghan is out of line, and now is when Meghan becomes Everyone Hates Meghan. Heather thinks this is all none of their business. Since when has that been an issue? Is Heather wearing a diamond #hashtag necklace?

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It being Donn2’s birthday, Shannon and Mr. Shannon are going out with him and Vic on a double date. It’s such a fancy occasion that Donn2 is wearing his very best Maude blouse.

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Things kick off with Donn2 ordering a drink. The Beadors disapprove; Vic studies the menu. Then he orders red meat, and another drink. The Beadors’ eyes bug.

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Shannon decides she needs to drag Vic to the bathroom, lose her shit, and tell her that Meghan was saying mean things about Donn2. And that’s all she gets out, because Vic doesn’t want to hear it. They return to the table with Shannon meowing and Vic snapping at her to mind her own beeswax and keep the badness inside. Shannon wants to burst, and keeps apologizing tearfully. Donn2 is confused and Mr. Shannon is telepathically trying to Shut. It Down. Finally Vic has had enough and screams at Shannon for ruining Donn2’s birthday, which only makes Shannon cry and apologize more, and then storms out, Donn2 scampering behind. For the love of cheese.

Next time: everyone but Vic and Donn2 go to this car race, which should make for a nice opportunity for everyone else to gossip about them. Tammy tries to be a Realtor®, and the Beadors experience tension with the kids involved. Oh, and when Vic yells at Meghan for insinuating Donn2 is a Cancer Faker, Meghan snaps back that Vic is a bitter old troll. Oh, wait: that was another juvenile on another franchise. Everyone Hates Meghan…

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“What Underwear Do I Have On?” 🍎 RHONY Season 7 Episode 18 Recap

We’re nearing the end, kids, of this seventh season of RHONY, and we’re winding things up with yet another fashion show. While no show will ever live up to the one where Mo Singer, Model, attempted to hypnotize the audience with her mesmerizing stare, at least So Morgan has managed to produce a show involving actual clothes. As any seasoned Housewives viewer knows, a fashion show in which there is actual fashion is an accomplishment to be noted.

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First, though, Radzi and “Doris” are back from London with the late Prince Anthony’s ashes, and Radzi needs to recap things for her friend Holla to close that circle. Holla swoops in wrapped up in a ratty faux fur thing, whereas Radzi is casual in flannel and unwashed hair. {Nose wrinkle} Radzi shares that she and Doritos found they had a great deal in common once the “layers” were peeled back, and they even enjoyed a little Lucy-and-Ethel-face-TSA moment when they successfully smuggled the Prince’s remains, bomblike urn and all, into the United States snuggled into Doritos’ huge fur coat, but not without getting busted for a tube of Clarins hand cream. After my dad’s funeral I unwittingly carried two live shotgun shells through Security in my purse and TSA never noticed, so sometimes you have to wonder what they are and are not paying attention to.

Holla, in turn, updates Radzi on whatever went on while she was gone, and as I missed this too apparently it involved some sort of Skinnygirl Speed Dating party where everyone looked good in red and Mo Singer was predictably antsy and rude, dismissing a very hot bartender as “the help”. Radzi, who as we know likes to do “the help”, thinks maybe boning “the help” is exactly what Mo Singer needs to get the True Faith crucifix out of her ass (she’s Catholic, you know).

Later (or before), Holla and Beth are meeting up with Mo’s partner in crime, So Morgan, to review fashions for the upcoming So Morgan New York show, or as it turns out cast models. So doesn’t know what she’s doing, nor does she know where she’s going, because SMNY is operating this pretend operation out of a series of pretend offices and conference rooms all over Manhattan. Not even So Morgan knows where she’s working today, let alone what she’s doing, or why. Beth doesn’t either and is a little tweaked that So is wasting her damn time on this model casting enterprise, because Beth’s vast empire does not involve any models other than Beth herself, already cast.

Anyway, in the models come, and the questions begin. Is there such a thing as “too thin”, and if so, is it acceptable to tell a model she is that?

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What is a “Versace cut” as opposed to a “Ralph Lauren cut”? What is a “heritage brand”, anyway? What other brands does this SMNY team envision So’s line hanging amidst? There are no answers. And also, no one should question how So Morgan interacts with models because despite her looks, So used to be a model herself! Dammit, she knows that there are so many times a girl goes on a call and never hears back! Holla is agape. Where to start with this shitshow and how to keep pretending it’s all a real thing she has no idea.

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Doritos and Mo Singer meet up for lunch to rehash London. They agree that Radzi is a lot more fun when she’s out from under Holla’s large, overbearing shadow. They also talk about their love lives; recently Mo Singer accosted a man over his delicious chicken dish! That’s one way to meet and move on. Fifteen years ago I had a very cute boy ask me if I knew where he could find chervil in the produce section; I was so flatfooted by my post-run subpar appearance and unfamiliarity with chervil that I couldn’t even find my game. The truth of the matter is that if he was looking for chervil he was probably gay, but regardless I have to respect Mo for turning Chicken Fabuloso into a potential love connection. You gotta start the conversation somewhere.

As far as Doritos goes, now that she’s put the Ghost of Richard to bed back in London, she’s ready to get serious with Fat John The Dry Cleaner. Mo sniffs; a dry cleaner is in the Help category, in her opinion, and a fat dry cleaner not to be given a second zombie stare. So she turns the conversation back to how smart she, Mo Singer, is, and how good she looks, because unlike Mario she’s not giving up on life. I don’t know how her version of reality turns Mario banging a 20-something fitness instructor into Mario giving up on life, but whatever makes her feel less like a washed up over-the-hill old bag, I suppose. And what will make Mo feel less like a washed up over-the-hill old bag is a New Beginnings party. Yes, she’s going to celebrate the fact that after her creepy husband got recreational to the point that Mo couldn’t pull off pretending it wasn’t happening any more, she went and got an Plain Old Divorce, lost the “R” in “Mrs.”, bought New Boobs, and is now going to Eat Chicken With Strange Men. And that’s cause for a celebration!

So the reason So Morgan New York is launching is because it’s NEW YORK FASHION WEEK, you guys! Apparently if you have a fashion show at the same time as Fashion Week it counts for being IN Fashion Week. Next year during Fashion Week I am going to have a private parade at the Rancho of all the wardrobe items I have accumulated from stores that also sell groceries and call that my personal participation in New York Fashion Week.

Anyway. Also, and possibly more legitimately, participating in NYFW is Kristen Taekman, whose Pop Of Color nail polish is being put to work at the Elie Tahari show, which if we’re honest about it is really more of a cocktail party than a fashion show but that’s fine. The Tahari models are wearing fingerless leather gloves like I wear to lift weights at BodyPump so I don’t get man hands. They are not especially flattering or functional as fashion items, but they do set off the polish, so that’s nice. And wait: wait wait WAIT! Radzi is eating! A corned beef sandwich, no less! It will be a good idea for her to put some food in that tummy of hers before they head off to the So Morgan New York show that is not at Lincoln Center, not anywhere near Lincoln Center, because you know that show is going to involve a full bar and likely a very long wait for anything to happen.

Which, not surprisingly, is exactly what happens. While Holla deals the legendary Elie Tahari a bit of a backhanded compliment by telling him she used to wear his suits back when she was a penniless first-jobber, So is frantically running around her Carriage House venue yelling at her fake employees and pretending (a) she’s actually in charge, (b) planned any of this, and (c) has a clue what is going on. Where is the fat Indian guy? Where’s that impatient looking girl from the other day’s model casting? Nowhere to be found. No, today we have various So Morgan “interns”, all who gaze dispassionately at their ranting “boss” as though they speak no English, not a Pickles to be found. So demands paper, Sharpies, chignons, and to know what kind of underwear she has on. At least she has any, unlike most of the time.

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The guests begin to arrive and assemble for their long winter’s night of waiting for something to happen. Beth greets Doritos and tells her she looks really good with that shocked, I-can’t-believe-it way she has of delivering any compliment. I sort of think Doritos looks the same as always, and maybe if Beth didn’t make such a thing out of it that might be nicer than the way she is talking to her, anyway. Holla is wondering where all the buyers are, because fashion shows are supposed to be about selling clothes to department store buyers. It turns out So is wondering the same thing, raving at not-Pickles because no one from Neiman’s, Bloomies, Macy’s, or Saks is showing up, even assuming they were invited.

They are seated, and settle in to wait, and wait, and wait. And while they do, and while So seizes another opportunity to undress in front of the world,

IMG_1895.JPGBeth and Mo get into a tiff over the now TWO dresses Mo stole from Beth, as well as Mo’s shitty attitude and her bullshit way of pretending she’s all fresh and new when really she’s the same old bitch she ever was, and Beth’s tired of Mo acting like an asshole and expecting her crappy fauxpologies to make up for it when she farts in the elevator. Mo tries to put her fingers in her ears and go la-la-la but Beth will not let up. The second and third rows are cheering, as is the Kountess.

Finally, the show begins. There are lots of shorts, lots of halters.

IMG_1896.JPGIn short, lots of clothes that are not “heritage”, classic, or age-appropriate for most. I’m of the opinion that past puberty one can generally wear a halter OR shorts, but not both at the same time. Then there’s a very, very long and obvious break while the models get recycled into the dressier second act and adorned with the $4 MILLION (pesos) of So Morgan Faux Jewels complimenting the looks. While they wait, Beth lays into Mo again for having gossiped, falsely, about Beth having cheated on her first husband during the ten minutes they were married. Mo tries the la-la-la method but finally has to give in. She’s not perfect, she’s sorry, crucify her why don’t you? Beth has no interest in “crucifying” Mo, she just wants her to stop farting in the damn elevator! Don’t we all? Mo blames it on Beth’s assistant. Beth thinks it’s perfectly hilarious that Mo is going to have a New Beginnings Party so she can carry on being the Same Asshole, Now Mrs., and treat bartenders like shit. Booze Queen Beth is always, always kind to bartenders.

Finally, mercifully, the show ends. So struts out to flash her nips to the crowd and soak up the sight of Mo going boonanas.

IMG_1897.JPGAs we all know, So can’t get attention without Mo needing more. If the presence of actual clothes, Carson Kressley, and a lady with a red fur donut on her are any indication, this fashion show was a smashing all-around success.

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Next time: it’s the season finale, people! It’s time for Mo’s New Beginnings Party, more fights, and wrapping whatever we can up with a nice, tidy bow. Till then…

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“Get Drunk! They’re Coming!” 🍊 RHOC Season 10 Episode 9 Recap

Guess what tomorrow is? My kids’ first day of school! Yes, it’s so wrong! But alas… I know I have bailed on you the last few weeks; we’ve been on our annual no-Bravo family vacation and in the leadup there was just too much to do to watch idiot TV, let alone write about it. As usual I don’t care what I missed, so let’s pick up this thread where we find it, shall we?

And we find the old bags n’ bitches of the OC in Moorea, French Polynesia! Mr. Little Mama and I honeymooned in Moorea (as well as Bora Bora and Rangiroa), so I almost thought he might watch this episode with me, but no. He really hates this franchise above all others. The ‘Wives have arrived in Tahiti and are taking a ferry to Moorea. A ferry? I didn’t know there even was one. We flew. Anyway. As longtime (or last-season) viewers will recall, Vic Gunvalson suffers from motion sickness, so if she’s not facing forward in the front seat she will theatrically and attention-whorily fake yack until someone either changes seats with her or, I don’t know, the mode of transport stops.

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Tammy, ever the dutiful Robin to the OGOTOC’s Batman, shouts repeatedly that Vic is going to throw up, and when the ferry pilot does not stop Vic is forced to run to the restroom and yack in there for a while.

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Upon arrival, the requisite Housewife Fat Bus collects and deposits them at the Sofitel La Ora, where the broads and Meghan’s peculiar headpiece are greeted by the traditional Polynesian welcome of loincloths and scarcely-concealed swinging members.

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“ARE YOU WEARING PANTIES?” Tammy shouts at the performers. Clearly not; what a stupid question.

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The pretend hostess of the Season 10 OC Field Trip, Vic, is surprised to find she’s “arranged” for them to occupy their own leg of overwater bungalows, to which they are transported by golf cart because walking would just, you know, be too much. First thing, Tammy strips down to her thong and leaps into the water, which is when a startled Medium, who is sitting on the couch next to me, informs me that he has seen enough and runs out of the room.

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Too bad he didn’t stay another four seconds because that’s when Meghan decides to join Tammy, but modest as she is wearing a black bikini. Seriously? THIS?

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I’m sorry. That’s… not attractive.

Shannon sits in her bungalow sucking on her nebulizer, because she’s had a cough every day of her life, and desperately wondering if 100 sit ups will help prepare her for her swimsuit appearance. Honey, I’ve been there.

Dinnertime arrives, and Meghan is wearing a new headpiece.

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I don’t… never mind. Everyone complains about the food, especially Meghan, whose esophagus is seared raw by something unfamiliar. Perhaps it was bread. Someone talked to their man at home, and it appears Donn2 planned a social outing for them all while the cats are away. Vic’s face shows pure panic. Is he going to eat? He’s not been eating! He can’t eat anything! Because, you know, the CANCER. Vic tells us that Donn2 is making a decision whether to have another round of chemo for his “Stage 3 Cancer”, or to go on a holistic regimen of starving the cancer by starving himself. Eyebrows are raised; at least one Bea Arthur side-eye is glanced. Now, I don’t have an opinion whether or not Donn2 has fake cancer, but I will say this: for the conspiracy theorists, giving up on chemo + Vic’s panicked reaction to the possibility that Donn2 might accidentally CONSUME FOOD and blow the whole cover = a thing that makes you go hmmmmm.

Vic decides to distract us from the “Stage 3 Cancer” by announcing that she has had a pregnancy test delivered to her bungalow for Lizzie to use, so let’s go watch her pee on a stick! Wait, what? Oh yes, Lizzie is here, apparently because they had reservations for six and when Katie Hamilton’s life went off the rails they decided to call her in off the injured reserve list. And while Lizzie was off eating bonbons and reading trashy magazines, she might have just gone and gotten knocked up, because as we all recall from last season she really, really wants a frilly pink silly little girl, which pretty much guarantees that whether or not she gets that daughter she is going to end up with a second son with a complex. Vic is not gonna tolerate her teetotaling any more. So they drag Lizzie and her bazooms off to the bungalow, harrass her through the locked door as she attempts to performance pee, and crow triumphantly when the tests come back negative. “Great, get out!” Vic shouts, slamming the door behind them all. Good night, bitches.

The next morning, Vic is shocked to discover that she “arranged” for them all to swim with sharks (small ones, but sharks nonetheless) and stingrays. The ‘Wives convene in the tiki bar for some liquid courage and a chance to size up the swimsuit competition. Everyone is talking about their families at home, naturally, which is when Meghan gets all meowy about her devastation over losing the chance to see Jimmy’s youngest kids in St. Louis having established herself in the OC and, more specifically, as a Housewife.

Apparently having tried and failed to get a satisfactory answer as to why Meghan doesn’t GO to St. Louis with her brand-new husband to see these stepchildren she professes to adore to the deepest reaches of her tiny, underfed heart, Batman and Robin decide to team up and teach Meghan a lesson on Why Being A Stepmom Is Different. Meghan gets all verklempt and insists they cannot possibly understand because they are not stepmoms; Tammy counters that Meghan cannot understand what being a bio mom is like because she’s not that. Vic is perplexed as to Meghan’s possessiveness of these children having only been the stepmom for four months. Meghan starts weeping about how she suffers from these constant reminders that she has no biological children. I’d feel sorry for her if she was 40 and had been struggling with infertility for four years of marriage, but the fact is she’s 30 and has been married for four months. Get your shit together, girl. #tinyviolins.

Another short bus to a small, glass-bottomed boat, and Vic begins to panic that (a) she’s going to get eaten by a shark, (b) after cracking the glass bottom and crashing through to the sea below, drawing blood and attracting all the man-eating creatures of the ocean in the process. Let’s hope. When the small, sinking boat finally stops, Meghan is the first to throw her bones into the five-feet of water and check out the sea life; Vic climbs up to sit on Shannon’s head and shriek incessantly. Finally the Scissor Sisters descend the ladder and clutch their unfortunate guide between their powerful thighs. He’s a portly dude so he holds up okay.

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Having seen enough of the sea, the ‘Wives get back on board and return to land. Shannon feels up Tammy.

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After all that excitement, Vic’s starving, so they stop for pizza. Shannon cannot believe the appetite on that woman, and calls Mr. Shannon to check on the goings-on at home. It seems he let The Twins go on their first sleepover last night so he could go out on the town with Donn2, and they went TPing! And Twin A climbed a wall to escape the OC po-po and broke her foot in the escape. Shannon is aghast. What herb is going to fix this? “This is what happens when Mom goes away!” she laments. What happens at my house when Mom goes away looks a lot more like what’s happening at this roadside food stand: pizza eating, beer drinking, and burping.

After pizza comes dinner. Meghan, Lizzie, and Heather are up for going out, but the old wet bags don’t want to leave the premises, so instead they go to the hotel bar and do vodka shots in place of their requested Fireballs until they are slobbery, kissing, and fondling each other in the fountain. The truth of the matter is that I caught the last 20 minutes of this fiasco last night and watched the first part today, so maybe something happened in between, but who fucking cares? It was a shitshow and really not worth discussing.

Back soon with news from New York. Gotta go – I’m making alphabet soup for back-to-school dinner just to annoy my mother.

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“I Thought We Said No More Macrame?” 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 14 Recap

Thank God for these ridiculous women after this week’s incredibly depressing visit to the OC. We count on this show for absurdity, misguided concepts of glamour, and the occasional lapse of judgment, Mr. Andy! Say what you will about this franchise; I love New York because these broads know how to bring it.

When we left them, Queen B was swanning about in today’s bikini and blasting Mo for her “mania” that was about to abort the Skinnygirl’s effort to casually demonstrate her culinary prowess (another SG cookbook must be forthcoming). Beth excoriates Mo for her sense of entitlement, her self-involvement, her excessive demands, her barked orders. Mo is astounded, and clearly alarmed; is this about that dress she stole from the Bethenny wardrobe? No, it’s not; it’s just about Mo being rude, bitch. SoMo concedes defeat and they sit down to eat a delicious lunch after all. Beth’s over it, because staying mad at Mo is like being mad at a five-year-old. (Having been mad at a five-year-old multiple times a day of late, I get the futility, but I think she’s letting Mo off easy.)

So: Mo. It’s all about Mo, and now she’s going to take the publishing world by storm with a forthcoming memoir about Her Life, and she wants help with a title. Beth immediately attacks; Mo needs an “arc”. She needs resolution and a happy ending to her Mario situation because otherwise she doesn’t have shit to show for herself. Holla is appalled; Mo didn’t ask Beth’s permission to write this book, and if she wants to write a crappy book, who is Beth to intervene? Mo explains that her arc is that she’s a work in progress, and Beth declares that there’s her title. “Work In Progress”? asks Holla. Wasn’t there another book once called “Work In Progress”? It doesn’t mattah, chomps Beth, mouth full of Skinnygirl salad product. It’s a good title, Queen B says so. Radzi feels that whether or not there’s another book by the same name, it doesn’t lend Mo a lot of credibility on life matters to still be a Work In Progress at 58 years old. *58* people! I don’t think Mo has been admitting to being 58 and she’s just been outed! And not an authority on Life at any age.

No, the Authority on Life here is Beth, and Beth only, and Holla resents it. She gets bitchy with Radzi about the way Beth sticks her bony butt into everyone’s business to the point of exclusion of all other butts, which of course Beth overhears so here she comes waddling back (she may weigh 97 pounds but with those duck feet, she waddles). Say it to my face, she hollas at Holla. Well, okay, Holla says: “I think you are a know-it-all.” Yes, says Beth! I know it ALL! And off she storms to the beach to fume with SoMo.

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SoMo think Holla is just intimidated because she’s “territorial” about her friendships and feels Beth is invading on her monopolization of Radzi. Or: It could be – possibly – that Beth is an obnoxious know-it-all who isn’t the bag of chips she believes herself to be. Whatever the case, one thing Holla is good at is shaking things off, so she stomps down to the beach, the Skinnygirl tosses her over her shoulder, they pants each other, and everyone goes SUPing.

 

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Best day ever, as it turns out.

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Night falls, and they give themselves Pop of Color manicures while evaluating prototype packaging before going out to dinner, SoMo having been staved off from going on the prowl for a few hours. Out they roll to The Cock CONCH Shack (excuse me! my word!) and although it looks like a bit of a dive, stray dogs and all, it’s just what Dr. Love ordered.

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It’s a wild night of drinking, dancing, more drinking, dog petting, hand sanitizing, and man monopolizing as Mo spots a potential lay her prey, the attractive, surprisingly age-appropriate club owner, and triangulates out Beth and Radzi who were trying to flirt.

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The next day, Beth hits the road to New York bright and early, with a nice tan and pleasant memories in her bag. SoMo and Kristen are the first to rise hours later, bleary eyed and, in Mo’s case, in Mo Macrame. Kristen informs Mo that she was very rude the night before trying to steal Beth and Radzi’s man, although what exactly they planned to do with him (share?) isn’t entirely clear. Mo thinks all these bitches are unused to her prioritizing herself and not exclusively focusing on their needs. Also, she thinks the club owner should thank her for rescuing him from those sluts.

Apparently we’re off on a day trip to The Gansevoort, and SoMo are so excited to let it all hang out in public that they hop in Car #1 and leave the slow bitches to Uber. The Gansevoort is glamorous, luxurious, and apparently desperate for publicity because they have given the ‘Wives the penthouse, a full staff, a giant bottle of rose, and a large event tent out on the frigid beach. Let’s be honest, this doesn’t look that fabulous. Having picked the best room in which to leave their bags, SoMo race out to prance and preen on the beach before realizing the latecomers have sat down for lunch and racing back up.

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The ‘Wives studiously ignore SoMo before So, inexplicably, throws Mo under the bus for cornering the poor club owner for two hours the night before to the point that he couldn’t leave his own restaurant. No game! Radzi tells Mo that she was “so rude”, which causes Mo to fling back that Radzi is “fucking some 28-year-old”, so there. The Kountess does not approve of Mo lashing out rather than taking responsibility for her obnoxious behavior and basically browbeats her into a grudging apology before taking So aside to apologize for snarking about her. She was just worried. They go sit on the beach a while and Kristen goes swimming.

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Back at the house, apparently they are headed to Studio 54 for a hot night at the disco.

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I’m totally intrigued by tonight’s fashion, especially So’s; I actually have that dress in navy and wore it to my uncle’s wedding. It’s an unexpectedly ladylike and strange choice for Lady Morgan, no?

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Clearly all of us missed a lot, because after ordering what cannot be the night’s first round of dirty martinis, the night takes a sharp left into shitshow central. The Kountess, slurry and sassy, starts repeatedly drooling about how she’s been having “the best fucking time”, earning herself a rebuke from Mo, Arbiter of Grace, that she’s picking up all Holla’s bad fucking habits. Holla gets fucking offended and insists that fuck is a great word that her fucking ladylike mother had no problem with her using, often, so why should Mo fucking care? Lu pipes up that yeah, she wouldn’t want her daughter, the Klassy Victoria, last seen on the internet rolling a fatty, using the F word in Europe around the Kount. “I do believe the Kountess is more than tipsy,” weighs in So. “She’s literally fucked up!”

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And then it’s ON, like the corn kernel stuck to Doritos’ lip, because she lets loose with a So Morgan shitstream about dey say dat search society Hong Kong London pwep school certain wevel gwaciousness daughtersh flim flam flamoozlewaddle frick frack fuck and it basically sounds like this:

WHOA, says Holla. What the fuck is this? No time to reflect, because Doritos crumples into a pile of crumbs, shrieking that someone is trying to humiliate her and trying to rip off her mike. O Jesus Christo El Hombre. All the while, So smiles serenely, more than happy to resign as Mayor of Assholia, Lesser Drunken District in favor of Doritos.

Next time: Everybody is kung fu fighting! Holla bounces Mo from the bathroom where she’s holding Doritos’ hair. Lu leaves a hairy naked man in her bed, and makes The Utterance we’ve waited all season for. “Be cool! Don’t be, like uncool.” I ❤️ NY!

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Goodbye, Queen Woo-Hoo 🍷 RHOC Season 10 Episode 5 Sort Of Recap

I never got around to watching last week’s RHOC because I am finding this season to be absolutely NO FUN and could not bring myself to try to find some “entertainment” in Meghan Edmonds’ bratty entitledness. (At 30 years old, she seems to have a profound case of what I think of as Real Worlditis – an astounding certainty that whatever an immature attention whore thinks or feels is justified simply because they think or feel it, therefore it’s entirely their right to unload it, ideally in as dramatic a fashion as possible. Some of us older farts have at least a passing awareness that we might – gasp! – be wrong occasionally, and either way that discretion could be the mightier side of dignity.) So I didn’t miss it one bit last week, but maybe I should have just sucked it up and given myself the hall pass this week because LAWD knows we are definitely NOT having fun now.

Almost five years ago I got the same call as Vicki when my dad died, and I was there more than 30 years ago when my mom got the same call as Vicki when my grandfather died. As dazed as I was both times, they were searing events and the details are so vivid it might as well be yesterday. It’s ghastly to me that Vicki got this call on camera and that there’s “an episode” about it. Equally upsetting to me is the knowledge that you, too, might have gotten one of these calls one time, or you might well in the future. No one needs to live through it extra times. Devastating things happen to people every day. Loss is part of life that we will ALL experience; it makes my heart hurt to even think about that, but it’s true. If this is a “reality” show then the reality of losing a parent will inevitably be part of it, I guess. I just prefer it when Real Housewives sticks to the “unreality” for which we honestly all watch it, and leaves some of this truly raw stuff off camera. Just because the crew is there doesn’t mean a choice can’t be made in favor of privacy.

I genuinely hope Vicki and her family have gained some peace since the death of Mama Woo-Hoo, and that her vivacious spirit going quiet and slipping to the next place with speed and grace, while unexpected and shocking, feels dignified and true to how she lived.

I think that’s all I want to say about this week’s episode. I still don’t understand what Bunco is, but somehow I don’t think we’re going to be playing that again.

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Coming Back Like a Bad Pimple 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 13 Recap

Last we saw the giant box-shaped house in Turks & Caicos, Queen B was getting a little crass with Lady Morgan, shouting at her to shut the fork up over and over again. After dinner Holla and Radzi retreat to the comfort of their shared room to admire their shoe collection and hide from So. They are tired of the whole subject. Not tired of it are Beth and Mo, who comfort each other on the patio couch. They are mutually concerned, at least at this moment, about So’s “self-medication” with men and alcohol. Mo feels she set So off by calling her on her shiitake to her face. Beth is not going to make any sort of diagnosis out of it, but Mo assesses So as her own worst enemy; if we’re honest about it, most of us are our own worst enemy. Like all things with Mo the conversation naturally turns back to Mo Herself and the two jilted broads melt into a puddle of sorrow over the breakdown of the Singer marriage. Mo wishes she knew how to fix him. Somehow I suspect Mario is perfectly happy getting “unfixed” by Mo.

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Morning comes, like it always does, and the hot chef returns to make omelets. I am in love. Radzi would prefer a big bowl of blueberries, thanks, because she doesn’t eat. I liked her a lot better before I realized she doesn’t appreciate food. Ding dong! Who is it? It’s Milli Vanilli, here to teach yoga!

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The topless Kountess returns from the beach to lie down with the other hippies, but Doritos doesn’t exercise and So prefers more passive methods of receiving inner peace, so they go upstairs to Doritos room to rant and shout out the window about what a classless beyotch Queen B is with her “style” of swearing at people when she’s trying to make a point.

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Doritos thinks Beth has no education or manners. I tend to agree, but somehow I suspect Beth would too, so that zinger goes pfffftt. Doritos’ advice to So is that next time she should tell Beth not to be so “interested” in her. So is confused because she wants EVERYONE to be interested in her all the time! Attention comes with recordkeeping with this crowd, Doritos warns. Conflicted, So wails about how Holla is LYIN’ when she says she has dragged her drunk ass up to her bed in the SoStone, because the only person who deals with dragging So’s drunk ass anywhere is MO, dammit! Speaking of, where is that bitch?

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Mo materializes like an aging fitness model in her hot pink bikini and takes So out to the beach to throw Beth under the bus. All these girls think So has a MAJOR drinking problem, she tells So, and BETH called her an alcoholic. Unfortunately Beth just happens to be paddling by and stops over to find out what Mo’s up to; if Beth’s going under the bus, she’s taking Mo with her.

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And Kountess Lu, too; the Kountess has been saying she has to drag So’s drunk ass home from hitting on other people’s men every night. Conveniently, that’s when the Kountess strolls up, chirping brightly. “I made you eggs!” as though the hot chef wasn’t the scrambler. “Get out of my shit!” shrieks So, storming off.

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Up on the patio, So is now RAVING. She is sick of being “so nice” to everyone who in return do nothing but gossip about her behind her back. Beth points out that she actually talked to her face. “Bullshit, bullshit!” sputters So. “It’s a mish-mash of shit!” Doritos and Mo scramble to cover their own contributions to the shittalk, while Beth acknowledges that she’s doing more harm than good and they need to just let So go down her own rabbithole, so the rest of the ladies make a pact not to talk about So’s Shituation any further and whoever does has to contribute $100 to Dress For Success, which immediately profits $500.

So’s so mad that she, the pretend hostess, is not going to go on the booze cruise scheduled for that afternoon and she stays home to do lunges in her wedges and wash the dishes while talking to herself.

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The rest of the ladies, meanwhile, board the mighty vessel Southern Cross to lunch, flash their ladybits at each other, talk about pubescaping, and let Mo kiss ass to get off everyone’s shit list before pouring a bucket of water over her head.

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Having doused Mo and her new rubber ta-tas, these bitches are bonded for life.

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The evening’s activities are an excursion to a restaurant called “Fire and Ice”, and So has spent enough time feeling sorry for herself alone that she isn’t going to let them go out without her, because she’s short on attention at this point and, besides, there might be men there. But she’s not gonna give these bitches a thing to say about her, at least for an hour or so until the itch takes over. It takes two Suburbans to get them there and when car 2 gets there first, Doritos hollers to Holla to wait up. Whether or not Holla hears this, she doesn’t respond the way Doritos wants her to, which inexplicably causes Doritos to burst into tears and yell at Holla for being cruel. Holla is confused and so am I; somehow they heal. With So on her best behavior, dinner goes fine and they end up talking about Mo n’ Mario. Again. I’m really not that interested in a pair of washed up, wandering old goats, but Doritos would have you know that back in the day of parachute pants and hair spray, those two were MAJAH.

IMG_1733.JPGDay 3 finds Lu out in the ocean without her top, again, and Beth in the kitchen, because she’s a chef, you guyz, and homeless as she is she hasn’t had a chance to cook in a while so she’s gonna make lunch. SoMo would rather go out, so they go off to round everyone else up and leave Queen B sauteeing her mushrooms alone. So thinks maybe they should ask Beth if she “minds”, as she chops and slaves away, but Mo is sure this is going to be no big deal because they TOLD Beth they wanted to go out to lunch and all she did was visibly bristle, she didn’t, like, burst into tears or throw a knife or anything. Beth comes storming out of the kitchen and tells Mo she’s a real shit and is “manic”. It’s all about Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo! So much for the detente.

Next time: the wheels continue to roll, roll away. No one is safe, people.

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Boozy Girls Know Best 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 12 Recap

Having gone over my notes from episode 11, here’s my recap: Beth is keeping Kristen firmly outside The Inner Circle. The End. Oh, also: Carson Kressley is here, and thank goodness he sticks around for The Kountess’ launch party for her new eVine Live fashion line!

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Oh how I miss Carson and the rest of the boys who made Bravo what it is today. {sigh}

The launch pre-party has moved downstairs along with the mannequins, but not before Doritos and Holla inform Mo in no uncertain terms that she was totally out of line to meanly correct Kristen for having had the audacity to ASK whether the vacation dates were or were not in flux due to Beth’s schedule. I mean, God forbid anyone speak to Queen B before she has given them permission to address her! And with such familiarity! There is protocol, people! Doritos, who plainly does not tolerate bullshit, does not hesitate to tell Mo she’s shoveling it out. I am? Mo asks, astounded. Mo’s never given a shit about what someone thinks until Doritos! They go downstairs with Mo suitably chastised. I am newly enamored of Doritos.

So, of course, remains purely enamored with herself, and has skipped The Kountess’ pre-party in favor of extra time on the step-and-repeat. Doritos and Mo snark about the weight she’s put on her ham. “She’s been drinking like a fish!” Holla weighs in. Lu peels So off the s&r and replaces her while Mo links arms with her bestie and goes off in search of RAMONA Pinot Grigio and men. Here’s what they find:

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Me-OW purrs So.

Finally Beth shows up, late, and just in time to find Holla and Doritos talking to Kristen about the confrontation she had with Mo over Beth. Well, actually, says Beth, you spoke to me without permission and there’s protocol, you know. Holla and Doritos slink off to leave Kristen alone with this mess she made. Queen B informs Kristen that (a) she has a sourpuss, (b) all The Queen decreed was that naming her nail polish line something too close to the name of another beauty line no one has really heard of isn’t that great of an idea, and (c) children and pretty girls are meant to be seen and not heard. Snap, snap, snap.

Meanwhile, So is over complaining to Doritos that as an EVENT PLANNER, you guys, she sees all the flaws in this party and would have strung the mannequins from the ceiling so everyone could see the clothes. Except: the clothes. Oh dear. They are “for the masses, not the classes” declares So, who I have totally forgotten has a “high end” fashion line as part of her Empire of Nothing. Not that I don’t agree these “fashions” are looking a bit Dress Barn. Also agreeing is So’s “Swami Priest”, who shoots the whole operation down as “schleppy”. What is a “swami priest”, Doritos wants to know, and why do we care what she thinks? So thinks Lu would care what the swami priest thinks, and accuses Kristen of being the one who’s gonna tell her the swami priest said so. This is gonna be a great vacation.

Things start off well-enough because NYC is socked in with ice and snow, but DELTA AIRLINES was more than happy to provide on-time air travel to the Caribbean for these gals in exchange for inclusion of promotional footage of another Delta jet winging its way over a triumphant mountain range not at all on their route and putting down gently onto a runway nowhere near the Turks & Caicos. Thank you, Delta. From not-there, two Suburbans whisk our ladies a fortress called Bella Vita, brought to you by Minecraft.

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Thank you, Notch. Especially for the delicious chef. Oh, and his culinary productions.

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Drinks are served, and the SoMo Room Monopoly Stampede begins. We’ve all been here before, girls. The hilarious thing about this trip’s Stampede is that all the rooms are essentially identical, and in the end The Kountess gets the marginally-best one, but not before calling Mo a “cow”. Which she is.

Rooms assigned, the ladies change into swimwear and get to it. Kristen plunges into the ocean, alone, and Queen B and the Kountess catch up on the pool deck while Mo recruits an idle looking bystander to be her manservant and makes him unpack. I haven’t had a person unpack me since my mother, and I would be mortified. But as we all know, what mortifies the rest of us never fazes SoMo. Unpacked and strapped into her yellow bikini and wedges, Mo prances out to the pool deck ass-first as Lu provides color commentary and Beth previews Mo’s Nopology.

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Sure enough, Mo is sorry she came across rude to Queen B. Not that she gives a shit if she came across rude to The Kountess. And not sorry enough to switch rooms, either. Beth declares that if Mo was a superhero, she’d be The Apologizer, which pairs her nicely with her roommate, The Repeater. I spy pinot bloat.

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As the sun sets, the Housewives frolic. Queen B and the Kountess attempt to SUP.

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Mo doggypaddles in the pool propped up on a pile of pool noodles, because as we know The Hair must stay dry.

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So mounts an inflatable dolphin and humps.

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Mo gets out of the pool to pelvic thrust some hand weights.

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And then it’s time for dinner. Pretty much everyone shows up in a swim coverup except SoMo, who have gotten all dolled up like a pair of prowling cougars, underthings optional.

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Here’s where things get dicey. Holla has brought Yummie gifts for all, which encourages Queen B to insult her by suggesting she get outta all her successful product lines and focus solely on fitnesswear, an “untapped niche”. Read: one of the few niches in which no Skinnygirl product exists. Holla is already in fitnesswear, thank you, which I know because I get eblasts daily for Yummie workout gear. Holla smiles sweetly and gets a nice return volley in when Queen B corrects her for plunging glassware into the icemaker; it might break and ruin all the ice for shards of glass, you know. Holla takes this one in stride, too; that’s a tip “boozy girls” know that “fashion designers” might miss. SNAP!

Elsewhere, SoMo’s ensembles have prompted questions about whether they plan to go out and pick up dudes after dinner. YES! shrieks So. NO! shrieks Mo. So thinks Mo needs to get laid, a lot. Kristen thinks Mo needs to date, gently. Mo is delighted and astonished that Kristen, of all people, understands her needs. So, on the other hand, is just an inebriated whore who just last week tried to “do” Lu’s friend Yveline’s boyfriend right under Yveline’s nose.

And now we’re off the Ramonacoaster and into the SoMo Shithouse. So explodes “bullshit, bullshit, bullshit” about the suggestion she may have tried to screw some dude and forgot about it. Mo thinks So ought to just drop it because she’s making a scene about something that would otherwise be an unremarkable That’s Just So situation and is going to call attention to the underlying issue, the fact that she was shitfaced, again. While the wise ones walk away and begin dinner on the patio, Queen B decides to take So on and get her straightened out. Good luck.

Basically, Beth tries the gentle, understanding approach; So is under extreme stress, but she’s going too far with how she’s reacting to it. If she doesn’t know she’s going too far, maybe she should at least consider the fact that other people are talking about her behavior and whether that might, possibly, be an indicator that she’s left the reservation. No no no, insists So. She’s not stupid! She’s been in prolonged litigation with “the smartest man in the world”, THAT proves how smart she is!

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In fact, So thinks Beth is giving THEM credibility over her! This is what brings Queen B to start shouting “shut the fuck up” over and over and OVER again. Instead, Mo shuts the patio door. Not Lu trying to be reasonable, not Mo trying to make it All About Mo and the pain she is experiencing listening to this squabble circle the crapper can make it stop. No, So will not let go, and she will not acknowledge that there are things she’s been too drunk to recollect clearly if at all, nor that being that degree of blacked-out drunk should be, if possibly true, in and of itself a concern. Nonetheless, Beth thinks they get to some degree of resolved and comes to the table to eat; So, deluded as always, concludes that Beth is simply venting that she, too, is tired of these baseless judgmental accusations constantly being leveled at So by these bitches! RIGHT. People, we’ve only been on the ground about eight hours. Buckle up.

Next time: we go yachting, and someone gets Mo’s hair wet. Mo and Queen B mutually collapse in a puddle of tears, and So goes Bat. Shit. Crazy. No one is safe, kids.

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