Real Housewives of Atlanta: Joyce’s Wig FTW!

Since I’m like Santa and traveling all the live-long day, I’ll be recapping the donkey booty out of the latest crapisode of RHOA…by memory.  Please note I may have gone in and out of consciousness during the episode as I can’t seem to follow what in the holy hell is going on, on the regular (of course).  What I do know is that Phae Phae apparently really does give a phuck about bringing that stripper to Kandi’s random 35^th self-thrown birthday party and pissing off Kandi’s mom, because she baked a cake and headed over to Kandi’s Salvation Army clothing store to mend fences.  The amount of ass in that store really should be qualified as a national treasure and national monument all at the same time.  I’m sure Washington is giving a “two-fa-one” anyway.

I know I’ve said this before, but I thank my sweet and loving Jesus each and every day that Phaedra is on this trash box television show.  At first I thought she was the step-daughter of Mr. Devil Satanson, but now I love her more with each sh*t-eating-grin she displays.  We should all be thankful.  I mean, all the “Mmm hmmm’s” and “Oh child” is just an added bonus for the wonder that is Phaedra.  As a sidenote I don’t understand why Kandi’s mother is still up in arms about that dumb stripper who, not only did the helicopter with his junk but could also most likely take flight from said action.  To make things worse, Kandi’s mother is so distraught that she’s been forced to change up her wig and miraculously transform herself into Pearl from 227 right before my very own eyes.  I mean when Jesus turned water into wine that was pretty cool, but this is truly amazing.  Either way, she’s pissed.  As we know Joyce (yes it took me this long to remember her name which is why I kept referring to her as “Kandi’s mother”) “ain’t never none liked no stripper.”  Truer words have never been spoken.  We do learn, however, that Joyce has been around strippers before with Kandi.  The event, you ask?  Why that would be Kandi’s baby shower.  Yes, baby shower.  And here’s your box of diapers, a rattle for the baby, a mobile for the crib and, well, here’s some raunchy dude who’s going to take down his underoos and slap you in the facia bruta with his diggity-ding-dong.  You’re welcome.  Good luck with the baby!

Speaking of families who hate each other, She By Chapter 11 is meeting up with her ex-husband so that he and the kids can kick the soccer ball around for 5 minutes (on camera) before Shy By takes him aside and talks to him about not paying child support for 4 years.  He By Sheree seems to think that he doesn’t have to pay child support since they settled for “a-seven-figguh-deal” during divorce proceedings.  However, She By Sheree begs to differ and ends their family picnic by throwing a little bit of water in his face like he just came off the field and needs to cool down.  She By Chapter 11 is going to enlist the help of one Ms. High Class Phaedra Parks to see what her legal options are.  I think the problem with this is that She By just wants to see if she can get He By to pay her some money for the kids, but Phaedra seems to be under the impression that this is a lynching and may or may not end in the death penalty for He By.  During their “legal meeting” in Phaedra’s office (after she drops that her #1 client is Bobby Brown – kiss my ass!) She By starts to what I assume is cry because she’s wiping her eyes with a tissue, but I never see any form of a liquidy substance drip from said eyes.  Even Phae Phae begins to phake the tears and everyone has some hard decisions to make.  At the end of the day, I couldn’t give 2 Shasta McNasty’s.

In continuing to speak of families who hate each other, let’s discuss Cynthia and her sister.  What. The. F?  Cynthia’s sister is clearly the Taylor Armstrong of this season as she’s crying in every single scene.  Apparently this time around she’s crying again because there’s a small chance that Cynthia is going to have to front Sebastian from Under the Sea $40,000 because one of his investors checks bounced.  Oh no!  What will ever happen to the ill-fated Bar One club that’s in the middle of what I can only imagine to be present-day Tajikistan?  Either that or the sister is crying because Cynthia is forcing her to be the receptionist at her modeling agency that is sans models.  If it was me I’d be crying because I was the sister who didn’t get the “model pretty” looks.  Oh well.  I’m sure she’s a nice person and, well, that’s what really matters.  I’m kidding.  That’s what pretty people say to “the ugly.”

So no joke, I thought Bar One looked like a pretty nice place.  I mean, that is until I opened my eyes, saw it, and then decided it’s the type of place that I would go to die.  Why does everyone brag by saying, “It’s very Miami Beach.”  Has anyone really been to Miami Beach?  It’s a dump and the whole place smells like re-fried beans from Johnny Rockets on Ocean Drive.  Don’t pretend you don’t know that.  Either way, Bar One is evidently in the middle of the ghetto, which I think is charming.  Phaedra made me squeal with delight when she said, “Well, honey, even people in the hood need to drink.”  Oh Phaedra, I shall be seeing you in hell shan’t I?  If Peter was smart he’d have the entire theme of the bar be The Little Mermaid and sing Under the Sea until he vomited seaweed.  At least that’s how I’d run things.  And to make things even better (?) he surprised everyone by unveiling a giant wall that had a portrait of Cynthia on it sporting an afro.  Quaint.  I think the only thing that will save this club is if they push the letters closer together on the sign, changing the name from Bar One to Barone, an Italian Bistro.  Just a thought.

In the end, there was all this drama with some dude named Charles and the rumor that NeNe banged him whilst she was still married to Greg.  Personally I don’t care, nor understand any of this, as the thought of NeNe having sex immediately gives me the non-stop image of a rabid moose running into a red barn door over and over again.  Plus, I’m pretty sure if you see NeNe having actual sex that means 6 more weeks of winter and, well, no one wants that.

P.S., Shecky Zolciak hates her mother for having this baby.