“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.


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.



Best day ever, as it turns out.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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



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?


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!”


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.


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!


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.


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?


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.


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.


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.


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.


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


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!


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:


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.


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


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.


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.


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


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


So mounts an inflatable dolphin and humps.


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


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.


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!


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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“I’m Waiting to See the Hookers and the Oompa-Loompahs” 🍷 RHOC Season 10 Episode 3 Recap

I never did get to RHONY last week, did I? I promise to wrap last week’s into this week’s when we’re off to Turks & Caicos. This week in the OC we’re headed to Napa, but before we go Heather, Tammy, and new girl Meghan are going to round up for dinner to illustrate who is aligned with who, in case we still had questions. I can’t say I really did, but this little soiree tells us a few things: (1) Meghan feels awfully installed for a wife of four months (talking about the stepkids as though they are hers; talking about all the real estate transactions as though she owned any of these houses); (2) Lizzie is going to be hanging around as a fun friend and not a Tamtagonist; and (3) things are about to go south between Meghan and Shannon.

It seems Meghan cold-called Shannon on the cell phone Shannon supposedly does not own to ask questions about Shannon’s catering order from a year ago while she was occupied with car pool. Shannon, who was clearly flustered, confused, and unprepared, did not recognize the name “Meghan King” (as Meghan erroneously identified herself; a new name is a lot to settle into in just four months, installed or not) and clearly wasn’t expecting an on-camera call, so asked if she could call her back. Which is what I do when I have a car full of kids I am trying to deal with. Meghan, however, thinks this is an issue, and didn’t mention it when she saw Shannon at Vic’s the previous night because that was a time for initial introductions and getting past the question whether Shannon thought David was flirting with Meghan at the hoe-down bar. (Which, it should be pointed out, means that when Meghan cold called Shannon they had never actually met other than the non-introduction when David was or was not flirting with her.) But now that intros and the hoe-down are out of the way, Meghan feels that Shannon not taking her call needs to be addressed. Shit.

Shannon, meanwhile, or during daytime hours anyway, is helping Vic pack for her trip to Florida to be recognized by “her peers” as being in the top 5% of sales in a community that it only 15% female to start with. Vic is trying to give the impression that THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE of insurance sales people are going to be at this affair honoring her with the Nobel Prize of sales accolades. Meanwhile Shannon will be “going to Napa with my GOOD FRIENDS Heather and Tamra”, she snarks sarcastically, because absent some valid excuse note from the school nurse she’s obligated. Vic thinks she has to “whoop it up”, and also pack nice undies that match her bras. There’s no way that scrap of fabric covers any part of Vic’s bits. Whatever. No OG of the OC is OK with me for as many episodes as possible. I find her boring.


The rest of the gals are headed to Napa on board a PRIVATE JET as Heather has told us over and over again she was arranging. And like we (or I, at least) believe that, because just like when the Umanskys traveled private last season of RHOBH, these broads are flying Wheels Up, which got a lot of nice promo out of this and clearly has arranged a thing with Bravo. No sign of the champs bottle cake; perhaps it was bumped by the colossal roller suitcase tiny Katie Hamilton aka Leah Messer brought on board. Meghan has brought handpainted wine glasses for everyone that she DIYed herself, bless her heart. Katie takes a glass but no champs because she doesn’t want to get loaded day-drinking. She does, however, want to talk Jesus Christo El Hombre with Tammy. Methinks Katie’s role this season is to facilitate Tammy’s Come To Jesus storyline via such conversation, and also she couldn’t be sufficiently edited out of some of the “group” shots.

Arriving in Napa, Heather gets into a limo to go check things out at Bella Vineyards, where Collette Method Champenoise Sparkling Champale is being produced and where the launch party will be held, while the rest of the broads load onto a fat bus and head to Silverado, a lodge where they will be residing this glorious weekend. Tammy, dazzled, thinks Silverado looks like The White House. I think Silverado looks like Graceland.


Each ‘Wife is whisked off to her separate stations and immediately Tammy has problems because the card adorning her welcome fruit basket is addressed to “Tamra Barney”, which tweaks current Mr. Tammy, Eddie JUDGE, every time he gets the mail. Eliminate, eliminate! Apparently the fruit basket isn’t from Hostess Heather; or she’s not quite as meticulous with the details of every toothpick as she seems to think she is.

Once settled in the gang reconvenes out front dolled up for the Champale Launch Party. Tammy has decided a pink fur bazoom cover will be subtle.


Everyone’s ready to go, and Mr. Josh Hamilton has been sufficiently edited out of the arrivals film, but where are the Beadors? Here they come on board their electric golf cart… and there they go. What is happening? Well, Shannon is having a bit of an insecurity meltdown because David did sake shots at lunch with Mr. Lizzie, which is causing Shannon infidelity flashbacks and knocking her chakras out of alignment. David is really not in the mood for this sort of fussing and handwringing, so he takes her back to their residential zone, lets her go through her departure routine again, and they give it another go, this time successfully boarding the fat bus just at the last possible second. There’s something a little OCD about Shannon’s anxieties. I sure hope her stove is turned off.

Arriving at the Champale Launch, David is shocked that this is “a whole to-do”, step-and-repeat and everything. Shannon has apparently started to question whether she did turn the stove off after all and is desperately in search of vodka. Despite this being a WINE party, there is nonetheless a full bar just to accommodate the hard drinkers like Shannon. There is not, however, a real cake, just a styrofoam fake-cake to keep all the booby toothpicks on their diets.

Speaking of boobies, no one has said anything to Tammy about her new ones, so she takes off the fur boob cover, thinking it’s concealing rather than enhancing, and sees if she can’t get anyone to take interest, even resorting to trying to make Heather motorboat her when they drunk dial a clearly unamused Vic. No one has actually failed to notice the new flotation devices (Lizzie, in fact, is confident it was envy of her own PFDs that inspired Tammy’s reinstallation), but no one was going to say anything direct about it. Not even Dr. Dubrow. Come to think of it, couldn’t he/shouldn’t he be tweaked he didn’t get to do The Job? It might have put a dent in the $135K Heather has gone overbudget in cabinets for Chateau Dubrow Part Deux.


By now, everyone seems pleasantly inebriated, to the point that Meghan goes to the bathroom with Shannon and helps her with her triple-layer of Spanx. Belt, suspenders, girdle, duct tape, and all! The time they spend freeing Shannon from her motion control fortress leaves Tammy with no choice but to use the men’s room. I really hate it when single-user bathrooms are defined by gender; what is the point? Regardless, to all our great amusement Tammy prances out with a toilet paper tail hanging out the back of her underpants. Meghan and Shannon settle things as to the hoe-down non-intro; Shannon wasn’t concerned that Meghan was a predatory ho at the hoe-down; no, she was irritated with her husband for being a drunk ass and abandoning any pretense of observing gentlemanly niceties. The Dubrows make a toast to Collette Champale, named after their mistake surprise “miracle baby” who is so mean, and after some glamour shots on the step-and-repeat we’re done for the night.



So with Friday out of the way, what’s next? Saturday is for wine tasting, apparently, and a depraved attention-seeking Frenchman has invited them to his neon-lit, bondage-mannequin-bedecked winery, Freaky Franzia, because he knows what kind of people they are. Yes, they are the kind of ladies who will take it from the tip of the dipper, as Tammy and her long-tall mini-me, Meghan, are all too happy to do.



Husband Jimmy is not amused. Heather is frightened, to her inner soul.

Our final dinner is at the personal Bello Vineyards residence, or at least maybe the Bello Vineyards Hotel because this doesn’t look like a place anyone actually lives. And it must be freezing, because they all huddle around the fireplace in their fur vests trying to rewarm their bony butts. Now is when Meghan decides to pounce, silkily taking Shannon aside to say she’s glad they are cool about not having met at the hoe down, because Meghan is offended at how Shannon received her cold call on the cell phone. You know, the time when Meghan was still essentially a stranger and somehow got ahold of the number for Shannon’s illicit bat phone, rang her up without preamble, misidentified herself, and demanded details about a long-forgotten catering order (which if anyone should have a record of it would be the gal handing out Shannon’s cell number), casting cancerous rays into Shannon’s head as they conversed.

Shannon tries to explain that she, too, was offended, finding the whole thing intrusive, which it was. Meghan apparently followed the phone call up with a text message, further bewildering Shannon who didn’t know what she was supposed to do about any of this. Who is this person, and why is she calling me about canapes? Shannon informs Meghan that her issue with all this is that someone – the cateress – is handing out her phone number to complete strangers. Megan sniffs to Shannon that her issue with all of this is that she’s trying to force herself on get to know Shannon, and Shannon isn’t being welcoming of random phone calls on her nuclear football. That’s it! snaps Shannon, and she’s out, tossing off a throwaway and possibly dubbed-in line that she doesn’t support charities, she starts them. And it’s ON.

Next time: Meghan The Meanie is not going to invite Shannon to her party. Oh, and Vic’s going to have to administer coffee enemas to Donn2. FOUR TIMES A DAY. That’s love, kids.


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Donn2 the Farting Vegan 🍷 RHOC Season 10 Episode 2 Recap

I was out of town delivering Big to summer camp the first part of this week, and am happy to say today have seen photographic evidence that he’s settling in and having a good time. I returned to 110 degree heat in a sudden panic that I had forgotten something, having come back minus one child and ALL the stuff I have spent months accumulating, labeling, packing, and listing. What to do with the time now on my hands? Focus on my other children and get caught up on reality TV, of course!

Heather is ordering another fancy cake, because as we know she loves fancy cakes and planning parties to go with them. Don’t eat the bow! Apparently Heather has gotten on board the Housewives Adult Beverage Bandwagon and is soon to roll out her own sparkling wine, named Collette.


No, not named after that beast of a child of hers – it just sounded French. (Because it is.) Heather commissions the Bow Cake Manufacturer to create a cake that looks just like a bottle of Collette Sparkling Wine, which she intends to transport to Napa Valley for the launch party. The cake lady seems unsure until Heather promises there will be a private jet for transport. Well, in that case, sure! A bottle cake should actually be easy, I would think.

(Dear readers: for all these Housewives Adult Beverages, has anyone ever seen one that is not Beth’s actually on the market? Only Skinnygirl products have ever materialized anywhere I shop. Supposedly Lady Pump made an appearance at a Scottsdale World Market some months ago to promote her sangria, but I neither knew about it nor live in any proximity to Scottsdale to have checked it out. I don’t think I’ve seen Pump Sangria at my World Market. I have looked for these things, I promise.)


A Housewife who is not attempting to produce her own line of cocktails, or anything else for that matter, is Shannon, who is still at the Hampton Inn on retreat. Having surfaced up all the shame, dread, anger, volatility, and whatnot of the Beador marriage, the counselor is now going to have them bury it by holding fake funeral ceremonies at which the non-departed spouse is to read a eulogy for the dead one. I am not altogether clear on whether the dead spouse writes their own eulogy or the survivor does, but the latter makes more sense from a therapeutic standpoint as well as bear any semblance of realism.

However, if that’s the case, the eulogy cheater David delivers, sniffles and all, seems far more heartfelt and sincere than the stilted, emotional-cardboard one Shannon drags out. But really, who could do this well – reciting a fake eulogy over a fake dead spouse who’s lying at the foot of a foam headstone pretending to be dead but actually, possibly, sleeping. This whole operation is bullshit, and if the Beadors are counting on it to keep them among the 30% of OC couples who do not divorce, well, they need to restrategize. Shannon is advised that if she can’t get over his affair, David will inevitably walk within two years. Not because he is sick of being assigned blame and guilt, but because he won’t want to prolong her pain. RIGHT. Shannon immediately forgives. 100%! If this is an in-or-out proposition, she’s in, no matter what.

Let’s catch up with Heather and Tammy, who are visiting another signature Orange County establishment: the juice bar. Each orders their poison of choice, which is delivered to them in: a plastic bottle. With a cap. Christ, people. We don’t have reusable, chemical-free glassware we can provide for drink-in service? Fail! Whatever the issues Heather and Tammy had last season, at this point it’s behind them, and in fact Heather is the only person Tammy can trust. Which is good, because she wants to be invited to things like the Napa trip, at least until she hears that her busty nemesis Lizzie Rovsek is going, as well as Katie Hamilton, the Housewife That Wasn’t. Vic is not going, as she’s going to be in Florida “getting an award”. Tammy is not so sure about this even if there IS a private jet involved, but Heather thinks she should “move on” and get over the silliness with Lizzie, who was demoted to FOH anyway.

Tammy gets weepy; she’s just in a funk. Heather thinks she needs to get her groove back. We’re supposed to believe this is all exhaustion following The Custody Dispute and estrangement from her true blue RH friends, but I am starting to think Eddie is maybe less awesome to be married to than he was to make bathtub soft porn with. (I also think Tammy has no actual real-world friends at this point, if she ever did. Except maybe the girl who had the ugly sweater party last season who we’ve all forgotten and given not another thought to since. No, that was a Bravo setup, too.)

Having sat on laps and hugged it out, the Beadors return home to make nice with their daughters, who sadly were dragged into their marital disharmony when one of them found text messages from the mistress on an illicit cell phone. If I found Dad had a cell phone in a No Cells Allowed house, I’d be worried about what he was up to as well as my mitochondria, too. Daddy apologizes to each daughter in turn, and they accept his apologies graciously. Does Mom need to apologize for anything? Not today, apparently. Despite having listed the Palais du Beador before last season’s reunion, the pile has apparently not been offloaded because here they remain.

In other questionably-married quarters, the Edmonds are going shopping at an upscale thrift shop of some sort that appears to have just materialized on the side of a road. They are redecorating, again, because Meghan “attaches memories to things” and therefore wants NEW things that don’t have former Mrs. Edmonds’ memories attached already. No recycling for Wife #3. On this shopping trip at which nothing is actually purchased, we find out three critical facts: (1) Meghan is also previously married, and she unintentionally lets slip that neither she nor Jim is entirely confident this thing is going to fly; (2) They have only been married four months; and (3) “Jimmy” spends fully 50% of his time in St. Louis. 1+2+3+Housewife Status bodes spectacularly ill for these two, even before “Jimmy”‘s total disinterest
gets factored in.

The Judges, who hardly achieve Dubrow levels of marital stability but in this crowd count among the smug-marrieds, are dining at home. Husband Eddie is grizzlier and grizzlier every time, is he not? Despite being ALL IN at the gym, when Tammy tells him they are invited to jet up to Napa for a free weekend of champagne and, presumably, horizontal mambo, he does not hesitate to find a sub to cover his BodyPump class. Tammy is shocked. Pleased? Can’t tell.

Because just then, who calls but VIC! They have not spoken in six months, but filming is now in progress so speak they must. “I need a drink,” declares Eddie when the caller is identified. Vic is in Mexico, and woo-hooing en Espanol (falling down in Mexican alleys, male strippers, accidentally sitting on bar patrons faces) always makes her think of Tammy. How sweet. Since Donn2 has a third round of chemo scheduled for Wednesday (“Bullshit”, Eddie coughs), how about Vic throw a tequila-fueled fiesta for everyone? Oh, sure! says Tammy. Dr. Vic knows the right medicine either to prep a cancer patient for chemo or help him recover (unclear whether the party or the chemo comes first, but does it matter?). The one condition, says Tammy, is that Vic not be mean to her. Vic demands Tammy not be mean either. Neither apologizes, but the party is on, and the Judges are going. Tammy hangs up and announces she thinks Vic may have been drunk. You don’t say?


Vic sets up the fiesta with Donn2’s assistance; she does not like living alone, and he was relegated to a large cardboard box outside Circle K at that point, so why not align their mutual interests? The Dubrows, meanwhile, are welcoming their pretend friends The Edmonds and once again plucking the paci out of Baby Lisa’s mouth. Does she not remember the command not to display that thing on camera?! Mama said! Despite having had a friendly private dinner on the last episode, when Meghan arrives Heather tells us she doesn’t know her that well; on the other hand, they are really seriously real true-blue friends with “Jimmy”. Celebrity stalkers, anyone?

While Shannon gets spackled by a scary tattooed makeup artist, David asks for her approval of his jeans-and-sweater ensemble, which she blesses with a completely unrelaxed smooch. (He looks cute to me.) Lizzie and Mr. Lizzie are the first to arrive at The Brown House; Lizzie seems to have chosen her ratty fur jacket to match the color scheme. Mr. Lizzie’s hair has been washed and brushed for a change.


When the Judges arrive, Donn2 is the only one available to answer the door, so they have an awkward moment of hellos and sorry-for-your-bullshit-cancers. Tammy conspiciously keeps her coat on.


The Dubrows pull up in a party bus containing themselves, the Edmonds, and Katie Hamilton. I get the distinct feeling Josh Hamilton was also on that bus but did not approve use of the film so he had to be edited out. Katie does not look OC to me; she looks Teen Mom, the one with the twins who’s been married like six times already. The Beadors are last to show and Shannon breezes past Tammy with not so much as a backward glance. Good times!

Friendless Tammy is left to make awkward conversation with Donn2, of all people, granting him sympathy for his “circumstances”. Donn2 brushes off his allegedly stage-3 cancer as “highly curable”. They have “a lotta chemo concoctions” and he’s essentially gone on a bean-heavy vegan diet which helps, too. Gonna fart it right outta there! To Tammy’s relief and ours as well, Vic also invited Jeana Keough who has picked the perfect time to materialize! On her way over to say hello to her former wine-toss-target, Tammy takes a moment to offer an overenthused “HI!” to Shannon and get past that awkwardness. “Oh, hullo,” Shannon replies, giving her the dismissive once-over.

Tammy prances on to Jeana, with whom she is now once again friends as Jeana was very supportive during The Custody Dispute. Jeana looks awesome; she has lost a lot of weight and doesn’t exactly detail how she accomplished it, but I suspect there was more than the celebrity weight loss show I seem to recall she participated in behind it. Also awkwardly socializing are Meghan and the Beadors; we are provided clarity that Meghan was the hot blonde whose body David wanted to do tequila shots off at last season’s Dubrow Hoe Down Groundbreaking. Shannon fixes her beady eyes on the brazen hussy once again, until relief comes in the form of Meghan’s brand-new and short-term husband, “Jimmy”. Meghan really isn’t as new to the OC as she wants us to think, is she?


Finally, they are seated, and Vic asks “the leader of the house”, Donn2, to offer Grace. Ooh, I hope nobody heard her call him that! Not that I don’t agree that it was the gracious and dignified thing for the gentleman host to do. Grace provokes talk of Churchgoing among Shannon and Katie, who go; Tammy, who is bored and has not yet come to Jesus, announces to all who will listen that “Lizzie does anal”. “Well, doesn’t everyone try it at some point?” Lizzie titters. Meghan is rapt. The Beadors have found themselves with no one to talk to now that the subject has changed.



Enough of that. The Housewives, past, present, and probationary, are summoned for a group tequila shot, and dismissed. Shannon catches Vic&Tam holding hands and is tweaked, but because she leaves first she permits the coosome twosome to make up and get off their hamster wheel. They have not been the same since their screaming fight at Heather’s Eaten Bow party, which was four – FOUR! – years ago now. Vic has a hard time letting “it” go, which Tammy thinks is because Vic keeps bringing “it” up. “It”, of course, being Donn2. Maybe he needs to be renamed. I’ll think about it. Anyway, they agree to at last Let It Go, and not pee on each other’s beds again. We’ll see how that turns out.

Next time: we’re off to Napa, and the Beadors are having issues making nice right and left. And that’s before some fool gives Meghan Shannon’s cell phone number. Since when does Empress Feng Shui have a cellie?

Till then –


Posted in Reality Bites | Tagged | 1 Comment

“Now Is When Switzerland Needs You, Man” 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 10 Recap

First of all, I want to thank everyone who took the time to comment or message me about enjoying my recaps even when the subject matter stinks, like this week’s painful RHOC opener. It’s always nice to know you are appreciated, and I love that you are reading! I do it for you, you know!

It’s taken me a while to get caught up this week – I was away with Big for the first half of the week at a hotel with lots of HBO channels but no Bravo – how does that even happen? You pay for extra but don’t get the free stuff? I don’t get it. Since then lots of swim meets and Battlefrog, as Mr. Little Mama’s intern from last summer was competing and won the whole thing. Sometimes in marriage, concessions must be made.

Not so among Housewives, though, as no one is willing to cede the point in the Doritos Dining Room. Beth has gone to her blathery, stuttery place to fend off the attack of the smothers from Holla. “I want to be closed!” she sputters. “I’m always so open and I want to be closed!” So cross your legs, girl!


Mr. Holla decides to break this fiasco up with a toast. “To Doritos!” he cries. Here here’s all around. Doritos thinks Beth just needs to calm down and accept that Holla’s a Helper, but Beth does not want a HollaHug. “I want to get to know you but I’m broken!” Beth chatters. Holla is now slightly freaked out by this whole situation; she just was trying to offer her a damn meatball from her handbag and the woman is unraveling. The Kountess tries to reason with Beth but Beth deflects; “Please don’t.” She wants to “stay behind the glass”. What the fuck is going on here? Lu gives up. “Let Beth not eat, let Holla say what she wants to say.”

More toasts seem to be in order, so Lu stands and offers a backhanded compliment to Mr. Fat about how she doesn’t really know him but he maybe he’s not as bad as he seems after all. Mo then rises and toasts Doritos for being so “genuine”, and Beth for never loving her so much as now that she made the effort to be here. I didn’t think she loved her at all so that’s perplexing. Beth then raises a glass to the party, and shouts that when So Morgan is the sanest person at the table that’s a real party! Woo hoo! After dinner, the factions retreat to their corners. Beth huddles with SoMo and stakes out her position of refusing to talk about her personal issues even though that’s all anyone is interested in about her. Kristen, Holla, and Doritos go build a fire and feel stunned and insulted. Why is Holla wearing a giant witch costume from Wicked?

Back to New York at last, where Avery is home from college for Christmas vacation and rushes her mom outside the train station or whatever it is like she’s winning The Amazing Race. Arriving home, Mo helps her unpack in Avery’s PB Teen Room and they discuss the Daddy situation. Mo tells Avery that Mario wants to reconcile and wants to know what she thinks; now there’s an unhealthy thing, involving your child in your marital issues. Avery, who thankfully came out of this family with some common sense, wants to stay out of it, and tells Mo to do what’s right for her. Mo thinks Mario’s just generally not happy. Oh well, says Avery. That’s his problem. And don’t call my clothes “Ramona Blue”, MOM.

Meanwhile, Beth got on the batphone and summoned her minions for a “branding summit”, which is basically a chance to display all her myriad products and give everyone a chance to bitch. My lands there are a lot of Skinnygirl products, aren’t there? Everything from the cocktails and the stevia (why Skinnygirl stevia is any different from stevia stevia is going to remain a mystery to me) to tampons and adult diapers. Something for everyone! The point is that Beth invited So to this Skinnygirl Showcase to show her how a real Empire of Something is run. So is dazzled. My suspicions that the Skinnygirl thing has jumped the shark are confirmed.

Elsewhere, Kristen is also having a business meeting, you guys, because something called Ricky’s Makeup wants to do a nail polish line with her and she thought Authoress Radzi could help come up with some clever names for the colors. Radzi wasn’t thinking clever, however; she was thinking pervy, with names like “Thrust”, “Slide”, and “Throbbing”. Gross. This nail polish line is meant to be called “Pop of Color”, not “Pop of Cherry”. I’m a person for whom the name of the color definitely matters when I’m buying yet another shade of nail polish that invariably turns out to be basically the same exact shade as another bottle I already have with a slightly less entrancing name, so I am not thinking Radzi’s names are going to sell any nail polish. But anyway: the point of all this is not that Radzi’s got a dirty mind, but that “Pop of Color” is Kristen’s legitimate new business enterprise, so legit that she trademarked “Pop of Color”. Or Josh trademarked it for her; this is apparently something that will matter later.


Beth and her new bestie Mo Singer go out to dinner. Mo is annoyed that Beth picked a place that has not hot men, just a table full of youngsters in their shirtsleeves who could well have been Mormon missionaries. Doesn’t Mo get it that most NYC establishments are refusing to let filming sully their premises? The options are limited! Doritos and Radzi are coming, too, to further diversify the odd social pairings. Beth and Mo want to talk trash about Holla, but Radzi resists. Radzi feels Holla is just a misunderstood problem solver, healer, and nurturer; Beth finds her oppressive and if she wants therapy, she has therapy. Sigh. The meal devolves into a discussion of men, sports bars, and lesbian sex, and I tuned out to be honest. This whole scene seems a little forced, like they could only get these four folks together at 9:45 am on a Thursday so they pretended to eat dinner. And I wish Mo would stop wearing these Costco camis all the time. The shelf bra is not enough.

Finally, it’s time for Mo’s Sports Bar to open. AOA is a giant space in Tribeca, which is not where I would expect to find a sports bar. Beth shows up first so she can leave first, as usual. She and Mo are really connecting, which is one of those things that make me go Hmmm. Their mutuality appears to be based on their finding of Doritos as Genuine and Holla as Not Genuine. Mo blames it on the fact that Holla “needs to connect intensely immediately”. Usually that’s called a willingness to make the effort to get to know someone, but if there’s one thing Beth and Mo have in common it’s a desire to call all the shots. If they want to be gotten to be known, they will grant permission, thank you. To that end, the area in which the Housewives are going to socialize is apparently roped off from the non-vaginoplasticized masses.

Next the Taekmans arrive, with Josh wearing a rather peculiar pair of high-tops and The Hat Of The Day, a leather fedora. I am always suspicious of an excessively fashionable or over-accessorized man.


Radzi finds Kristen and informs her that Beth was talking crap about the nail polish line and said Kristen was “so dumb” not to get the trademark to “Pop of Color”. Which I thought she did, or at least Josh did? And how would Beth know anyway; what is she, the US Trademark Office? Kristen is livid. Beth doesn’t know her and won’t make the effort to get to know her, or support her entrepreneurial efforts, let alone help her in those efforts to be Just Like Beth?

While Kristen seethes in one corner, Kountess Lu corners Beth in another to talk about the Holla situation. Lu wants to plead Holla’s case as The Nurturer, but Beth wants Lu to be Switzerland NOW, man. What Lu finds to be “nurturing”, Beth finds to be Holla trying to breastfeed or force a pacifier on her. Lu’s eyes narrow and so do mine. Mo butts in and wants to know if anyone wants some chicken.


Kristen tries to get her audience with Beth but Beth shunts her aside in the hunt for Holla. Kristen’s not gonna have it and she’s taller so Beth has to sigh and give in. What does Kristen want? Well, Kristen is SERIOUS about this nail polish line, SERIOUS, and Radzi said Beth said Kristen didn’t have the trademark and what is Beth SAYING? Beth rolls her eyes and stalks off, leaving Kristen with no answers and infuriated. Beth hasn’t got time for this silly little filly. “Get over it!” she barks over her shoulder.


Beth stomps up to Holla and informs her she’s not “at ease” with her, but wants to call a truce. She likes Holla in “many ways”, like, Holla has nice hair. She can’t dive into the pool without checking for water first, see? Wha? And with that, Beth is outta there. Hey, where was So for all this? Isn’t this her very best friend’s big new thing?

Next time: more weird lesbian talk between Radzi and Beth, which I may fast forward through because I think it’s all bullshit; Lu gets a modeling gig; and the season trip is to Turks & Caicos, you guys! I’m depositing Big at summer camp next week so prepare thyselves for another delay. But I do love you too!


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No Fun In The Sun 🍷 RHOC Season 10 Episode 1 Recap

TEN seasons? I can hardly believe this. But I guess it’s true; I started watching Housewives in the middle of the night when I was up with a baby. How things have changed, and yet, not so much.

It seems that production on this season has been pretty rough because Mr. Andy brought in two new Housewives married to professional baseball players and only one actually lasted. Katie Hamilton’s husband had a substance abuse relapse along the way and then filed for divorce. It sounds like they had been filming Katie for some time, so maybe she’ll still make some appearances – it’s not like they can take her out very easily without screwing up the storyline, I would assume. We’ll just have to see how all that works out.

We kick things off catching up with Heather Dubrow at the rental – is this the same one, or a different house? Either way it’s really ugly. Heather is herding up all the lil’ Dubrows to go visit the Chateau Dubrow under construction, and Coco commits the faux pas of appearing in the kitchen with her pacifier defiantly plugging the hole. Heather scolds her that she’s not sleeping and needs to leave the paci in her bed; girl, that’s not the problem. That child is what, five? Time to be done with it! Orthodontists all over the OC salivate at the prospect of Coco Dubrow.


She’s also old enough not to need to be carried, but carry her Heather does upon arrival at the colossal construction site. The Chateau is immense and will feature 15 bathrooms, at least one with a $7,000 sink, which given the proportions of crappers-to-residents means the ROI will be about $350 per handwashing. The Chateau also occupies the entirety of the lot, which is truly unfortunate, but maybe less lawn to maintain is the Dubrows nod to water conservation. Heather leans out one of the upstairs window holes and yoo-hoos for her next-door neighbor, Katie Hamilton. Can she spare a square? No reply.

Evening falls, and the Geritol Girls, Vic and Shannon, are meeting up for dinner, margaritas, and the chance to compare reading glasses. Shannon, who is on a yeast-free diet, orders a salad with no dressing. Vic is appalled; who wants to eat a dry salad? But the vinegar! Vinegar has yeast in it? I drink apple cider vinegar every morning, I suppose I am on the high-yeast diet. Wonder what that means. Vic shares that Donn2 moved in because he has cancer, but she’s keeping him on a tight leash by only permitting him a drawer and requiring him to maintain a PO box. No deliveries to the Brown House, thank you! She feels that everyone deserves a chance to “grow”, no matter how old or how long, and cites the Beadors marital efforts as an example. Shannon swallows, real hard, and CRICKETS. Hmmm. Vic has drastically improved her hair situation and I approve.

Speaking of growth, it seems Tammy is disappointed that her implants didn’t grow back by themselves so she’s getting yet another set installed.


This is Boob Job #4 for our Tammy Sue – she just can’t make up her mind about these things. What does seem settled, though, is that she’s not going to undertake making a Baby Judge because son Ryan went and knocked up that gal he met on Instagram and ran away with last season! Yay!!! Tammy’s gonna be a grandma! Great news. In she goes to the operating theater, and out she comes, new and refluffed, with not a soul awaiting her return since she ran them all off in Season 9. “Where are my friends?” she meows to the nurse assisting her with her lip gloss. Last time she had the Gretch, and we all know how that turned out.


Someone who does have friends is Heather, who is introducing us to new Wife Meghan Edmonds at a dinner where the Oxygen appetizer will be followed by a nice plate of Air.


Meghan is wife #4 to former pro baseball player Jim Edmonds, who maybe is a famous person, I have no idea. Heather is friends with several of the previous Mrs. Edmonds and insists that in the OC this is not awkward even though I think it might be. Meghan is all of 30 years old and her husband is 14 years older and already has four kids, but they are going to have more, despite his vasectomy, and Heather is Meghan’s “ultimate mother” role model because Dr. Terry does absolutely nothing to help parent and Meghan knows Jim won’t either. Somehow I feel like this scene was filmed and spliced in later because the original “intro” involved Katie Hamilton and needed to be removed.

After a long day at the office, Vic returns home to find Donn2 wearing his customary blackjack dealer uniform and scavenging the kitchen for illicit scraps. He really needs shoulder pads to compensate for that slope. Donn2 wants white bread. He wants cheese. He wants tequila. And The Lady won’t let him have any of it, because this is Cancer’s yen, not Donn2’s. This cancer is a real thing, whether or not Donn2’s hair falls out, whether or not Briana believes it’s legit. When the most rational person in the history of the franchise doubts the veracity of your claims to terminal illness, you are really in trouble.


Back to Meghan, who is pretending to supervise the movers installing the Edmonds into their sixth house of the year with her bitter, dismissive stepchildren Hayley and Melissa. Apparently they decided to relocate to the OC so Hayley could be closer to her ill mother, and also so Meghan could conveniently get a hobby of reality TV. Win-win! Meghan just can’t believe that after all the times she said she wasn’t going to marry an older professional athlete with a whole passel of children, darn it, she went and did it, giving up her lucrative career in “pathology software sales” in the process! That kook! Meghan is the #coolstepmom, just ask her. But don’t ask Hayley, whose eyerolling and can-you-believe-this-shit snorting laughter is only slightly less cringworthy than Husband Jimmy’s outright rudeness when Meghan inquires as to his upcoming travel schedule. Where’s Husband Jimmy’s wedding ring? The fuck if he knows, or cares! Family Dinner doesn’t go any better than Backyard Conversation. I sort of feel bad for this girl, but I’m not sure she gives a shit.

Speaking of less-than-happy families, let’s check in with the Beadors, shall we? OGod. Apparently the awkward frigidity we saw on camera last season was barely the beginning, because Mr. Shannon actually went and had an AFFAIR and Shannon AND the kids found out and it’s all been a painful, mortifying fiasco and now they are going to go to a “couples retreat” on camera. What’s next, pooping with the crew on hand? (Tammy Sue has since announced that she actually knew about the affair the WHOLE TIME, which means that rather than being a gossipy old hen for blabbing about Shannon’s marital unhappiness she is actually discreet, you guys!)

While the Beadors go through a very awkward counseling session alongside a rather WT looking other pair who share their enthusiasm for oversharing on television, Tammy is throwing a hoedown couples’ shower at CUT Fitness for Ryan and Sarah, and of course, herself. She’s still on the outs with Vic, who is planning her seasonal woo-hoo to Mexico but wasn’t invited anyway. But one person who WAS invited is Former Housewife Lynne Curtin, who is divorced and single-parenting her own grandchild by wayward daughter Raquel who I thought was rumored to have embarked on a career in porn after enduring the on-screen eviction? Lynne is just as dazed looking as ever. It’s a very drunk shower.

So basically everyone is feeling very alone and hurt and boo hoo about their lives. Can these relationships be saved? Who knows, because that’s when my TiVo cut off so that’s all I’ve got. Let’s hope next week is a little more pleasant because this sucked, and so does this recap. Sorry, kids.


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“Don’t Do A Sandwich” 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 9 Recap

Ohmiword, RHOC starts Monday? CRAP. I am not sufficiently prepared for this. I will be out of town seeking chakra alignment early next week (a task incompatible with Housewifery nonsense, let’s be honest) but if I can stay on task, I will.

Anyway, having left the fractious, inebriated hussies barking at each other in the basement of Petrossian, we resume with Doritos in the Berkshires, fussing about Chalet Doritos in anticipation of the onslaught. Doritos’ house is a big gray Tudor on a large, scenic bit of property, unlike Holla’s which is equally scenic but significantly less impressive. But that’s the outside; inside, it’s a Crayola bordello. Back to that in a minute.

First to arrive is the encaped Kountess, who has shuttled up to the Berkshires with: MO SINGER OF ALL PEOPLE. Oh egads, what a ride that must have been! But Lu looks surprisingly unflustered by the endeavor whereas Mo explodes from the SUV with her hair all amuss and clutching a case of RAMONA Pinot Grigio all bug-eyed and desperate. In they go.

So in is like this: lacquer is big here. And each room seems assigned to some section of the color wheel. One has purple velvet couches, and big ones at that. Another is all in shades of peacock. One bedroom is teal, another is magenta, another Orange Yellow, not to be confused with Yellow Orange. One room seems to be Fake Phish themed; in another there’s a moose, and not a real one. Everything is so big, so bright, so shiny… I feel like I am on an acid trip off Nerds inside DJ Lance Rock’s hat.

Doritos has a deep emotional connection to this pile, because her father, who was a mason that also apparently installed phones, both built the foundation and plugged in the original rotary dial. So dead husband Richard bought Doritos the place when they got married, although she gives equal time to the suggestion that she bought it, either way someone did and here lives Doritos, in full, living color, decor inspired by a Preskool xylophone.

The Kool Kids arrive next and drinking before lunch ensues. I enjoy the occasional day drink but not on an empty tummy before noon. Mo shares with Radzi that she invited her “business partner” to come as her plus one for dinner the next night. Radzi wants to know whether he’s just a friend, or are they fucking. Mo stalls and changes the subject to what names they are going to suggest for Chalet Doritos, because Doritos wants to order some of that klassy personalized stationery with the name of the place on it. Radzi thinks “Bluestone Manor” and I am so incredibly disappointed. Isn’t she supposed to be the clever creative one. Not even “Chateau Crayola”? “Real World: Berkshires”? Mo informs Radzi she’s stealing her crappy name suggestion and they tussle for it on the stairs. Having just grappled my 11-year-old at the pediatrician this morning so he could forcibly receive his tetanus booster, I cringe.

Once Radzi extricates herself, Mo goes off to drink with Kristen and tell her about the fiasco at Petrossian. Like Kristen didn’t hear all about this in the car with Holla en route. Mo tells Kristen that Lu got all “weirdass” on her about her closeness with Doritos and as a result went after Mo for having complained about Mr. Fat being too handsy. Kristen, who was molested by Mr. Fat at Doritos’ introductory cocktail party, agrees that Mr. Fat is too handsy, which is unfortunately the time that Doritos decides to swan in, her flat behind revealing her panty lines. (I do not have a problem with panty lines; in fact, I’d rather know someone is wearing panties as I believe thongs to be unhygienic and unhealthful. However, I believe rumps should have a bump, and Doritos’ does not.)

Doritos tells both ladies that she’s not mad at Lu because she thinks all she was trying to do was get the facts straight, but she IS mad at Kristen for saying something so unkind about Mr. Fat as that he is handsy. It’s her own damn fault for being attractive, and within arm’s reach! All she wants is for everyone to accept Mr. Fat as she does, because he cries with her about her late husband and makes her heart so warm and moderately happy. She’s a 50-year-old widow and Nicholas Sparks does not write love stories about people like her. There is no Ryan Gosling waiting in the wings for Doritos; it’s Mr. Fat The Dry Cleaner, or nothin’. Now everyone is crying. They will be nice to Mr. Fat, they promise, then go change out of their ripped jeans which they all bought that way.


Off to a fancy dinner in the town of Great Barrington. In car #1, Doritos, Holla, and Lu speculate about the Singers’ marriage. What is or isn’t going on? Mo isn’t filling in any details, but she IS bringing her “business partner” in her questionable sports bar for dinner tomorrow. Lu’s wearing another cape. I wonder iff Radzi is pissy about it. Arriving in their private dining room, which looks like it smells a wee bit musty, Mo crows that she LOVES the Berkshires! She’s totally over the Mo Bitch Project now that she’s in a more upscale environment than Holla’s garage and no one’s making her do stuff in, like, nature. Doritos, in her black Big Bird bolero, gives Mo a Bea Arthur.

Dinner conversation, naturally, turns to the person who isn’t here, which is Beth. (Technically So’s not here, either, but there’s nothing left on that subject.) Why did she blaze out of Radzi’s election party so fast? Radzi doesn’t really know, even though she said on camera that she had to pick up The Peanut at school (which makes sense, at 3:30 in the afternoon – more sense than a co-op board “election party”). Mo pipes up that Beth is not a girls’ girl and doesn’t have any friends; flashback to her telling Beth on the Brooklyn Bridge that someday Jason would leave her and her life would be an empty shell because she’s so impenetrable.) Radzi tells everyone about Beth’s meltdown in CB2 and that her conclusion is that Beth has “a branding problem”; mirthful ironic laughter. Kristen demands to know whether they were real tears or Mo Singer “crocodile tears”, provoking hissing and a hairy side eyeball from Mo. Sucka, you is gonna git it later.

Everyone pities Beth for her marital problems, her childcare challenges, her fucked up family history. Wise Old Lu offers that if you can’t trust your mom then it affects your whole life with women, and observes that Beth is trying to be SuperMom herself in compensation. Mo’s hairy side eyeball swivels over to the Kountess, as she, too does not have a mom she can trust. Holla, for one, doesn’t buy any of this shiitake. Mo, So, and Lu also have or had marital problems, Radzi and Doritos are widows for God’s sake, lots of people do okay without their mom in their life. I mean, come on, Holla ALSO has childcare issues – she just lost her nanny of nine years! WHERE IS THE PITY?!

Mo don’t want no pity; she has learned some heavy stuff. And that includes that sometimes you just gotta realize that it’s gonna be okay! You’re gonna make it after all. HA! barks Doritos. Not for her; no, she has no faith that it’s gonna be okay, but some mornings she realizes she smells like a goat and needs to get her flat ass out of bed and shower whether she likes it or not. That’s how the widows do it!

All this is left unresolved; a new day dawns and with it arrives So Morgan schlepping ten bags and not an intern in sight. After she changes into a suitable “Berkshires look” and Holla and Mo don their matching leopard fur vests, they head out shopping on the Great Barrington Stroll. At one store, Mo confronts Lu for having confronted HER at Petrossian; Lu acknowledges that she “pulled a Ramona” and shouldn’t have jumped her without warning. So that’s resolved, mercifcully.

It’s time for Doritos’ birthday dinner which is apparently going to be a sushi thing in evening attire back at the Chateau Crayola, with men. First man on the scene is of course Mr. Fat, who brings a case of champagne and a special pink birthday bottle and nearly gets cornered for a three-way Caburlesque show by a half-naked So in Doritos’ bedroom. It’s close, but no vagina. Doritos’ gay brother and his husband arrive, Josh shows up in his toolbox Porky Pig hat and Mr. Holla bursts through the door shouting “Ta Da!” with no one there to witness, again. If a tree falls in the forest…

Cocktails are in The Peacock Room which is where they are nearly all assembled when who shows up unannounced but BETH! She made in happen, guys; she brought The Peanut along and left her in the hotel room after bedtime! Doritos is thrilled; Holla is disappointed because her kids are here, too, and they could have had a slumber party! Beth’s eyes narrow; I think she recalls as I do that Holla’s kids are a little ill-behaved and The Peanut is not going to be exposed to any of that.

Meanwhile, up in The Phish Room, Radzi has brought her laptop in to show Lu what she “dug up” while Googling Mo’s business partner, namely an item on Radar Online claiming that the business partner used to date Mario’s now-mistress. Friends share, guys! They gasp. Should they say something? Of course not. Or at least not to Mo.

Down the stairs they come; Beth, in a conservative black evening pantsuit, doesn’t understand why The Kountess is wearing a saloon owner getup. Long gloves, too. “LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!” Doritos bellows, Oprah style, and dinner is served.

Immediately there is a problem because dinner is sushi and Beth is allergic to fish, specifically non-shellfish; mollusks are okay, as are sake shots. Holla pipes up that she’s got some meatballs in her pocketbook; how about some meatballs? Beth declines the meatballs as well as the Teddy Grahams and whatever else Holla has in there; she’s gonna be fine and can figure out her own Skinnyfood, thanks. Holla is tweaked.

Moving on, Holla (who heard about the Radar Online story before dinner) decides to start interrogating Mo’s date, who by now has arrived. How did they meet? Mo used to babysit him! Holla shares that they Googled him but then plays all coy about it. Like he doesn’t know. She continues to interrogate him, loudly, about his business endeavors, accomplishments and failures, while Beth and So at the other end of the table roll their eyes and collapse on each other drunkenly. What’s all this about, Holla demands to know. Beth wants her to lighten up. And, as we say, it’s on.

Mr. Fat unfortunately looks like he’s pressing one out here

Beth doesn’t want to be “tended to”; she didn’t want Jill to be her replacement Jewish mother and she doesn’t want Holla, either. Holla is just trying to tawk to Beth! “But we don’t know each other!” cries Beth! Holla wants to Know Beth. She wants to Know Beth in the next room. Beth does not want to be Known In The Next Room. She wants Holla to get off. She wants no attention, as she cries at the table with everyone staring. She wants to BREATHE. Holla, rejected, returns to her seat. Now they are both crying. Radzi observes that Beth has two speeds: tighter than a top, or crying.

Next time: Beth would rather eat glass than Be Known By Holla. Avery doesn’t want to Know what is going on with her parents. Carole has filthy ideas for names of something for Kristen, and Beth and Lu get into it. Oh lawds.


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“This Box Had A Toaster” 🍷 RHONY Season 7 Episode 8 Recap

After the sorrow and sun of Miami, it’s back to New York where things are sleeting and dismal, and I love it. I miss seasons. Mo and Doritos are meeting up for dinner at some steakhouse and there’s a bald dude mowing through his meal in the background, oblivious to the cameras as he shovels it in. A small child, less oblivious, stares at the cameras and the ‘Wives aghast.

Mo has a cold. She sounds like crap and looks worse with her unbrushed, unwashed hair, but this isn’t stopping her from going out to parties at which there are available men to meet, even though Mario has begun to come to his senses, and wants his family back. Mo doesn’t know what she wants, but obviously in the meantime she’s keeping her options open. Doritos has invited everyone to come to the Berkshires and Mo is excited because Doritos’ chalet has five fireplaces, unlike the glorified garage of Holla’s which Mo was forced to make up a fake emotional crisis in order to flee in a friend’s private jet (which was actually a simple Cessna but I don’t feel like arguing with Mo on this point).

Radzi is running for the board of her building co-op and has assembled a team of political consultants and valuable advisers, including Holla (PR), Mr. Holla (real estate), and Mo (co-op board near-miss), to help her plan her election campaign. It seems once her candidacy was announced, someone recruited an individual who no longer lives in the building to run against her. Does that make sense? Shouldn’t you have to live in the building to be on the board? Radzi’s campaign is predicated on “transparency”. She wishes for the board management to be more “transparent”. Who knows what their co-op issues are, but opposition to Radzi appears to swirl around her history of repeatedly arriving home drunk and locked out, requiring the assistance of the fire department to access her apartment. “Oh, forget it,” Mad-Eye Mo declares, rolling them. #Doorgate will no doubt derail this whole effort in search of a storyline. Radzi is so boring this season.

Our episode of RHONY is disrupted by one of Beth After After as she goes to see Dr. Amador to tell him about her trip to Miami and meeting with the stepfather, who “acknowledged” her childhood. This is not enough for Dr. Amador; no, she needs to BE ONE with the events. She needs to really examine how being raised by drunk, gambling, fighting, clubbing, suicidal wolves has impacted how she feels about life and how she trusts other people (or doesn’t, as the case appears to be). Beth “acknowledges” that her childhood was one of “fear, sadness, terror, and lack of trust”. Phew! That was exhausting! Beth needs a nap now. What has she been discussing with Dr. Amador all this time? And where did that giant diamond on her right hand come from?

The sleet has turned to snow, causing So to have to cancel “half the press” invited to her Latino Show cover party at the Vanessa Noel shoe store. Who is this Vanessa Noel? It seems So has partnered with up with another person heading an Empire of Nothing, because Vanessa Noel’s website is oddly dysfunctional, offers a bio replete with typos and faulty grammar, and no actual shoes. And what is this Latino Show magazine? Certainly not something I’ve seen on a newsstand alongside Cat Fancy, and whether or not it is an actual magazine, its website is a free blog on Blogger offering advertisements in Spanish, and isn’t formatted correctly.

Whatever. So claims it’s a magazine for high-falutin’ international gay luxury living, and she’s on the cover. (However, among the cover images scrolling down the left side of the aforementioned website, no sign of So Morgan. Hmm.)


She’s also the cateress of this event, and is wearing the very first prototype dress from the So Morgan Kollection, so she’s hitting three birds with one tiny pebble tonight!


Kristen and Doritos swan in all sparkling, and each looks five times more fabulous than the woman of the hour; a resentful and sniffly Mo snarks in all confused about what exactly is the focus of support for So tonight, and Beth comes racing past the step-and-repeat covered head-to-toe in a Unabomber hoodie, clearly hoping no one sees her slumming at this operation.

Some random says she actually saw four pieces from the So Morgan Jewelry Kollection, so things are coming together, you guys! Beth is suitably impressed that there’s actually a toaster in this box, whereas Holla is not totally convinced; “an ad in a magazine is not a collection”, she sniffs, just as a concept preview of She By Sheree is not a fashion SHOW. Holla will believe it when she sees it, and gladly interrogates So’s CEO. In her fur vest and Pharrell hat, it’s like a pimp confronting a confused tourist. The CEO does his best to describe the line and their efforts to get into chain stores”. “Like Kmart kinds of chains?” Holla asks. Silence descends, then hissing. How dare she! Kmart? The So Morgan Kollection is geared to Barneys! Bergdorfs! Or at least Bloomies! It’s AFFORDABLE LUXURY. Affordable luxury = QVC if you ask me. Apparently it’s affordable luxury for Spanish speaking drag queens given the placement So has selected to make her debut. I’m still not convinced there’s a toaster in this box.

Radzi has invited everyone over for an election watch party in the middle of the afternoon, so she has to find something to serve from what’s left of her former kitchen and pulls a box of three-year-old pigs in a blanket from her ice machine. Apparently they are delicious, but she could have gotten fresh ones were she a Costco member. Hell, why isn’t this a Sonja In The City event? It’s toaster oven scaled, after all. Beth shows up first so she can leave first, too. Holla BURSTS into the apartment, simply exploding with excitement, before So strolls in unimpressed and in green faux fur. Mo brings mo wine. Kristen is Best Dressed in a belted grey knit coat and suede boots, while Lu looks like she’s in between tree trimming parties. Everyone’s here but Doritos! All to await the results of a co-op board election probably half the 30 building residents could not have cared less about.

While they wait, Holla tells Beth about her plans to get a Maleficent tattoo on her hip and interrogates her about her custody arrangement. I’m sure she’s just trying to be friendly but Beth is pissed, again, and views this as intrusive and upsetting. Kristen takes So aside to genuinely apologize for ever doubting her Empire of Nothing. She saw a toaster in that box! Finally Radzi calls for the results, because people (specifically Beth) have been here 20 minutes and are ready to leave. And guess what? She won! Her very own totally thankless volunteer job. Hip hip hooray!

After a commercial break in which Mo pretends to interview nitwits to staple things at her new sports bar, Beth and Radzi go furniture browsing at CB2. Because, you know, the other ‘Wives are complaining that Beth is not around enough and trying to have her own show-within-the-show, and Beth liked Radzi’s decor, so this is something to work with. They get way, way too comfortable in a living room set, Radzi draping her legs over the arm – this isn’t IKEA! sit UP! – and Beth theatrically and inexplicably collapses into a puddle of tears. It seems she can’t go on Doritos’ trip to the Berkshires because it’s her weekend with The Peanut, who isn’t allowed on camera (and who wasn’t invited anyway). Beth wails and sobs and Radzi panics before finally locating a cloth cocktail napkin and offering it to Beth, silently begging her to stop already. Once the sniffling stops the awkwardness descends; they are not huggers. They are also clearly not going to buy anything at CB2 so they sit there awkwardly like they just sobered up after a one-night stand. Why is Beth wearing an untied bow tie?


It’s Doritos’ 50th birthday so Lu has planned a private dinner at Petrossian and she’s invited Mo and Holla. Mo, Holla, Lu, and Doritos, and their men (except Lu didn’t bring one; Mo brought Cyrus’ gay hooker husband from Scandal).


This is the weirdest combination of ‘Wives, but I am thinking maybe Holla’s the only odd one and was specifically included strictly due to her orgasmic love of caviar. Lu suggests it’s because they are all lovers of good things, and also “loyal”. There are vodka shots, apparently enough for an army of Russians. And then the first turd slips into the window box fan.

Mo decides to launch into a classic Moffensive backhanded “compliment” by telling everyone that she thinks Holla and Lu can be evasive and put up a wall of phony, which is why she is so glad Doritos is now on the cast because now she can “be herself”. Holla and Lu are having none of it, because Mo’s the one with “the wall”. Mo thinks Holla is being aggressive and negating her compliment toward Doritos. Holla and Lu insist that Mo was the aggressive one, assigning preconceived conclusions about and labels upon people, and Holla had “seen growth” but now there’s a backslide.


A lot of inebriated and slurry talking-over follows but now Mo is snapping at Lu while draping herself possessively over Doritos, and it seems what happened is that Mo and Lu had a conversation behind Doritos’ back about Fat, which was all fine until Mo took it upon herself to tell Doritos Lu had said bad things about Fat and left her own contributions to the conversation conveniently out, which led Doritos to call up Lu and let her have it. It would appear Doritos and Lu sorted it all out before they got here, but that’s not gonna stop Mo from rehashing the whole sordid off-screen affair. “We know you lie!” shrieks Mo, while Doritos tries and fails to settle things down, fully aware that Mo is making Lu the scapegoat. “I am afraid I can’t trust you,” Lu cautions Mo. Holla thinks neither of them needs to throw their dislike of Fat in Doritos’ face. Mo makes a toast to Doritos: if she’s happy, Mo’s happy. Then she burps loudly, keels over, and passes out. Lu and Holla write on her face with a Sharpie.

Next time: it’s off to Doritos’ questionably-decorated Berkshires chalet! Will proximity to the woods cause Mo become So Ramotional and take us back to the Mo Witch Project? Stay tuned, kittycats.


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