I’m back from vacation/delivering gifts to all the rotten girls and boys in the United States and awkward parts of both Mexico and Canada. And New Mexico. Ole! With that said I got a case of the frights that missing two weeks of Real Housewives would leave me lost and confused. The good news is that within the first 14 seconds I was officially all caught up. Apparently everyone still hates Joyce and by “everyone” I of course mean Brandi and America (not Ferarra…like, the place to live). Joyce and her husband, Baby Huey, were on the receiving end of a Brandi F-bomb whilst enjoying overpriced fried food at SUR. Joyce was sure to state hundreds of thousands of times that Brandi is a racist and a bully. It’s like, we get it Joyce, you’re on the show. To be honest unless she cuts her hair next season into something Carol Brady would rock, I’m less than interested in seeing her return. Plus she always has that look on her face like someone flicked an ice cube up her dress and it landed in her vagiola. She’s half surprised and half smiling. I’m half kidding. Either way, after minutes of fighting Brandi claims she’s so upset because her puppy was probably squeezed down a storm drain and is filming The Neverending Story: Part III – Puppy Patrol. Yawn. And Arf! Sadly Brandi cries her way into her court appointed town car and heads home. Luckily Yolanda and her electrocution hair sticks around to defend Brandi to everyone else at the table. Side note, I loved the recap clip I saw from last week where Joyce’s husband told Brandi that she was from “Planet Trash.” Ouch. Burn! Gotta love that “overseas wit!” Plus, you totally know I’m opening up a club (da club) in my neighborhood now called Planet Trash. I jest. 2 already exist. I double jest. Anywhere I go automagically becomes Planet Trash and I am the head Trash Monster (a monster full of trash). Bloop!
Later Carlton used her penis as a hose to clean out her daughters outdoor club house that is 6 times the size of my apartment. I may or may not still be talking about her penis. I’d like to petition that Carlton only be featured in Halloween episodes of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Someone alert Andrew Cohen at once! Please re-read that last sentence with a British military accent. Ok let’s continue on. Most of the hour is filled with Kyle and Joyce going to “play golf” but they’re really there to measure each others hair and talk about Brandi and her rusted out mouth. By the way, please stamp your Bingo card since we’re witnessing Kyle wearing a trend that is for girls 25 years younger than her and that is, of course, glittered-out high tops. Sort of. Check them out when you watch this crapisode replayed 68 more times before next Monday night.
Meanwhile the saving grace, per usual, is Kim Richards. On or off the sauce, I like her. This week she’s excited because her dog, Kingsly, is back from doggie rehab and is ready to behave. That’s boring. What isn’t boring is the random story that Kim was telling during her one-on-one interview about the type of bed she had. She was dead serious and slowly saying, “I have a European King bed….with white sheets. It’s fluffy and soft. And I sleep on it.” Then she said something about her mom. I’m sorry, what? I need to see Kim back on the big screen, stat! And that can include her literally checking tickets in the movie theater. The point is, more Kim. Back to the dog. It’s back at Kim’s house with its trainer and Kim looks like she’s trying to divide fractions when listening to the new commands she has to give her dog. She legit doesn’t get it. Keep in mind it consists of: sit, check, and lay down. A Furby is technically more complicated. I love when Kim gets on the ground with her dog and lets him lay on her. Sexy. Her new opening tagline should be, “Everyone loves a comeback story, especially when it’s starring me…f*cking my dog.” And then just sprinkle those cartoon diamonds all over the screen. You know what I mean?
Fast forward through some more crap and we get to the “fashion show” at Kyle’s new store. All the “models” are wearing spandex onsies that J Lo and the other random Fly Girls used to kick-dance in whilst on In Living Color. I was waiting for Kyle’s youngest daughter to bust out with “Mr Dobalina, Mr. Bob Dobalina.” Moreover, Kyle is pushing her 13 year old daughter to walk the “catwalk” even though she has no desire to. At one point I’m pretty sure I saw Kyle mouth the words, “Get to witch mountain, b*tch!” just like her own mom probably originally said to her…back in 1945. The good news is that this “fashion show” is for charity and Jamie Lee Curtis is involved so, well, there’s that. If they really wanted to make it interesting they should have made all the models take the Activia Challenge and then walk the catwalk. First one who squirts sludge down their stick-legs loses! But you knew those rules already. You certainly don’t need little old me telling you how to take the Activia Challenge. Activiiiiia!
The “fashion show” went off without a hitch. Speaking of horses, even Joyce walked in the show and reminded us all that she is a model and is so comfortable on the runway. That’s cool because I’m uncomfortable with a woman of her age with hair that long. She keeps saying that kids in school used to call her “horsey” but pronounce it “yorsey” because that’s how you said horse in Spanish…so they were making fun of her name. First off, “caballo” is horse in Spanish. So F-off. Second of all, when I was little all the kids in school used to call me “handsome” and “funny” so I know what it was liked to be bullied too. Get over it. Also, cut off at least an inch of that horses mane you have on your head because I bet it’s covered in feces and left over “period surprise sauce.” That may not even be a thing. I’m done.