Loose Floppy Bits and 3/4 of a Nipple 🍷 RHOBH Season 4 Episode 1 Recap

Back at it in the BH9er, people! It’s been so long, and yet it feels like we never quite left. Probably because they picked up filming so soon after the finale aired. Judging from the previews it looks like everyone hates everyone and we now have a witch joining us.

Two people we aren’t going to see this season are: Camille, who has had a very difficult and dramatic time of late, and Hoofy Maloof, who we’ve all forgotten about. LAWD Camille is full up on drama right now; first cancer, and then a domestic violence incident involving her “Greek God”. Wendy Williams went on TV to question the legitimacy of this DV allegation just the other day, which is so completely tasteless. I question who Wendy Williams is, why she has a TV show, and whether she has a penis. I realize the timing is a little curious, since we’re well-used to our Housewives’ newsy life events conveniently coinciding with premieres and whatnot, but that’s as to book releases and product launches. Crazy life events, like Camille’s troubles or the sad demise of Russell Armstrong, that coincide with looming returns to TV are just that: coincidence. It happens.

Two people who we may see some of this season are: Tay Armstrong, who’s got the FOH role life-locked for as long as she wants it under the circumstances, and maybe that realtor girl. What was her name? I don’t even remember right now. Tay has gotten engaged to her finally-divorced lawyer boyfriend although whether an actual ring has ever materialized is an open question as far as I know. I’m personally hoping she and Lil’ Kennedy pack up and move to Colorado and leave us alone.

Anyway: one person who is clearly going to be much more important this season is the fabulous Yo, because this season’s very first scene is her stage mothering darling Gigi through a modeling session. Gigi is arguably more attractive than her mother and certainly the ideal Guess? girl except she’s a bit boobless. Gigi thanks her mother for starving her and denying her sugar in favor of salads and rigorous daily workouts because she just LOVES being in front of the camera! A short bow-tied chubby trails along behind mother and daughter and he’s so cute, I wonder who that is. Yo shares that over the last several months she has continued to struggle with her Lyme disease, and that The Glands has been an excellent friend while a certain gnome named Kyle has not.


Speaking of The Glands, she’s with her realtor boyfriend evaluating a moderately shitty rental. It has a lot of windows and few window treatments, which bodes well for the neighborhood given The Glands’ propensity to giraffe around buck nekkid. The Glands shares that she met this realtor at Kyle’s White Party last spring, and yes he’s the same guy she was accused of giving the boots to in Lil’ Portia’s bathroom, but no, no such boot delivery took place. The Glands is in a good, independent financial place after the success of her number one best-selling memoir, and she’s going to maintain that financial independence, thank you, although she’s not that much of a fan of independent sexual activity unlike certain Atlantans and Teen Moms.

We leave The Glands and reunite with Lady Pump at dance rehearsal with a partner named Glek or Oob or something. See, Lisa was identified by some casting person as a “star”, along with several other questionably-famous folks, and has accepted the challenge to dance among them until America votes her off. Why do the amateur dancers on “DWTS” always wear things like t-shirts with tights and then their ugly dancing shoes? Tights are not pants, people. Something needs to go on the bottom here, I feel. A tutu, or even hot pants. I am just worried about bits south of the equator springing out without another layer.


Lisa shares that she wanted a gay partner so she wouldn’t feel so awkward about grinding her naughty bits on someone not Mr. Lisa, but instead she got Glek who is as manly and hetero as they come. To me, a penis is a penis, whether it likes me or not. I’d feel weird grinding on Glek no matter what the circumstances.

Having caught up with Lady Pump, let’s move across town to her gnomey on-and-off nemesis, Kyle, who is “working” at her retail establishment, Forever In Caftans and nursing a dog-pee induced hand injury when guess who comes to visit? The local Chamber of Commerce representative! Come to recruit Kyle to the Chamber. What is a Chamber of Commerce for? Oh, synergy, and events, like the 100th anniversary of Beverly Hills. You have got to be kidding me: the CHAMBER OF COMMERCE is what Bravo came up with as a plotline? The Chamber of Commerce, my friends, is what is going to bridge the crevasse between Kyle and Lady Pump (who Kyle seeks out to provide catering for her first big, spontaneous, next-day Chamber celebration), and will to introduce us to not one but two new Housewives. Things are desperate, people.

Two ladies not affiliated with the Chamber of Commerce are The Glands and Yo, who are pretending to shop for new furniture from a small man in a camo-print sportcoat. The Glands is giraffing around in the very same lemon print Old Navy pajama shorts I am wearing at this very moment, while Yo is back in her customary suffocating white ankle-zip jeans. I had the same ones in 7th grade. It seems The Glands has gotten rid of all her Mr. LeAnne-era furniture except her stripper pole, with which she will never part. However, she will not be making any acquisitions at this establishment because it is way out of her price range. May I suggest Sam Levitz? The Glands asks if Yo was invited to Kyle’s Chamber of Commerce event. Yo was, and has no intention of going let alone responding to the Evite, because Kyle made wild accusations against Yo at the reunion show (claiming she disparaged Lady Pump) and has yet to apologize. Another of these standoffs. We know how this is going to go.

Speaking of Lady Pump and Kyle, Lisa has arrived at Casa Umansky to discuss the catering menu with her gnomey nemesis. Kyle praises Lisa’s DWTS shrinkage and Lisa remarks on Kyle’s shortness. Lisa asks who’s coming and Kyle says 40-50 people including potentially that liarface Yo. Like a honey badger, Lisa don’t care. That’s just not a position that’s gonna work for long, girl, and Lisa knows it, so she changes the subject to all the absurd gossip magazine speculation about the Lisa versus Kyle friendship crisis; Kyle’s next geriatric pregnancy; oh, and how Mauricio is sleeping around! Speak of the devil, here he comes, about to step out with another younger woman (that being Lil’ Portia). Kyle does not find this line of conversation amusing in the least and shuts it down like she’s squashing a bug with her little elf shoe. What the hell is that necklace she has on? It’s like Trailer Ballz.


Having exhausted all the oldies we have to stop by to see Kim and check on her nose, which is doing just fine, thanks. Her dog, however, needs training. Kim looks significantly refreshed. It cannot just be clean living.

Party time! The Sur staff arrives to make a total mess of things and throw tantrums, and the girl servers now wear perfectly hideous snapping turtle “dresses” swirled with some sort of lame (why can’t I make an accent egu?) motif. The perks of this job just accumulate, don’t they? With her people on the loose Lady Pump and Mr. Lisa arrive to keep things under control, and now here comes the Chamber. Oh, and also all our returning ‘Wives, that dirty old man Martin, and some new characters, including the aforementioned bow-tied chub! Is he a member of the Chamber? Kyle swans off to the door to welcome one of those very people and we get an unfortunate shot of her back fat, which stands in stark contrast to how lovely Kimmy looked in her backless Kathy Hilton Kollection kocktail dress moments before. Looks like someone’s star is rising…

Anyway, at the door is an extremely feline and crabby looking British woman named Carlton Gebbia. No, not that Carlton.


Carlton Gebbia is not the same sort of British as Lady Pump and has three children oddly named Destiny, Mystery, and Cross. And she has absolutely no sense of humor and offers no explanation for why she is here or who invited her, so we can only assume she is a member of the Chamber. The Glands and Yo arrive next, arms and legs all tangled up, to show (a) they are friends, and (b) Yo ain’t afraid of no gnome. Following those two comes our next new Housewife, Joyce. Joyce is a two-time Miss Puerto Rico (I thought they had a one-shot term limit at that stuff) and is married to someone she claims is a successful movie producer. She also has very long fuzzy hair which makes everyone start guffawing about the looming hair rivalry with one Ms. Richards. Kyle does not find this the least bit amusing. No explanation as to what brings Miss PR here, either. Again, I blame the Chamber.

Awkward conversations ensue as we get to know these new interlopers. Mr. Puerto Rico, who is a bit rotund, tells everyone how much he loves to run around naked and wants a naked room in his house. It seems they have a toddler and feel they cannot run nude in his company. If you can’t run nude with a toddler who can you run nude with? Carlton Gebbia is a bit green in the gills confronted with a vision of a man she hardly knows running around with his naughty bits flopping in the wind. Does it get better to picture someone you know well in the same condition? I think not.

Mr. Puerto Rico asks about the Lil’ Gebbias and reacts the same way you probably would to their names. Carlton is now fuming. You don’t make fun of her children’s names. Or Oprah’s name, a lesson I once learned the hard way which is a story for another day. Martin tells a tale of the time he appeared in a porno movie, and someone mentions the soft-core work Lady Pump once did in which one could see “three-fourths of a nipple”. Now Carlton is really appalled. She does not want to discuss Lady Pump’s nipple, even three-fourths of it. She’s the new humorless Hoofy, I just know it.

This season promises lots of tears, fractured friendships, odd alliances, and at least one practicing witch. Good times! See you next week, kittycats.

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