Well folks, the time has come. We’re ready to give our little Pandorita away to her finance who may or may not have spoken actual words this season. That’s right, the entire episode is basically wedding related. Well, to be truthful it wasn’t all a snooze. I mean, the first 10 minutes consisted of Paul becoming a woman by getting a tube shoved up is bum-bum for a little colonoscopy or “pay back time” as I’m sure the tinsel in Adrienne’s hair likes to call it. It was really fitting because I think we, as “The American’s” feel the same pain and squirming feeling when we have to watch Lisa and Ken pretend they remember that they really do, in fact, have a son. As a sidenote, Max is clearly Scut Farkus from A Christmas Story. Moving right along. Back to Paul’s asshole. For reasons that I can’t seem to understand, Paul is having this procedure done on television because, well, he really is the Katie Couric of our generation. My favorite part, of course, was when Paul beckoned Adrienne into the bathroom to see if she could help give him an enema. Why he’s not getting his jacked up thumb looked at whilst he’s at the hospital is beyond me. #AlwaysGrossesMeOut.
It’s 110 degrees in Beaverly La(t)kes on the day of darling Pandorvakia’s wedding and Kevin Lee’s hair and face is about to melt off. I hope this horrible heat doesn’t frizz out Ken’s hair and he can be the best Don Imus he can be for the remainder of the day. Everything else is running as smoothly as possible. Lisa is having a heart attack because she found a centimeter of tennis court that hasn’t been covered in pink. Perhaps if Kim was there she could have her 3-month-late period in all the spots that aren’t pink. Alas, Kim is nowhere to be found but I think it’s safe to assume that she’s still trapped in the bathroom from last weeks episode and, no, I didn’t recap it so go f*ck yourself. Cheese! I jest, as I am a court jester.
I thought everything during the wedding looked really nice. I hear that $1 million was spent on this event and diamonds and real flowers (pink, of course) were sewn directly into Pandoratzee’s wedding gown and, quite possibly, her vagiola. Sadly not a dime was spent on fixing her Quizzno’s teeth. Lisa is dressed up like a real-life “I Dream of a Bedazzled Jeanie.” She’s sporting a crown that costs more than your dumbest child’s college education/trade school dropout bills. Once Lisa goes back into her genie bottle we should look around to see if we can find out where the hell Brandi is and, more importantly, where we can find Dana. Maybe she’s busy making breadsticks for her next high-society party that takes place in empty rooms without furniture. One may never know. Taylor wasn’t there either and Russell is dead so he couldn’t make it. I hope Jiggy got his filet.
After the Olsen Triplets apply a face full of makeup to all of Pandora the Explorer’s friends it’s time to walk down the aisle and then get to my favorite part of any Housewives episode. The dancing. Me gusta when “the rich” and “the olds” dance their faces off…literally. Paul and Adrienne are definitely my favorite as Adrienne just performs tinsel-inspired spins all whilst throwing her arms up in the arm like your drunken great-aunt does at nearly every wedding and 1st Holy Communion party at the local VFW. You know the one. Paul straightened his bangs for the wedding so I really feel like it threw him off this game a little. Luckily he did what every white man does when he’s dancing while wearing suspenders. He pulls on the them all whilst biting his lip. Seriously, why isn’t there surgeries for people with thumbs like that? Sorry, I got off topic. The dance scene was like a non-stop Where’s Waldo sequence. Luckily I spotted LaToya Jackson dancing within seconds. I can’t even begin to understand the who, what, when, where, and why of that friendship but like Camille’s face full of whore-red makeup in her one-on-one interviews, I’ve given up trying to figure it out.
In the end, that horrific band sings that horrific song while Pandy Pants and her dad slow-grind on the dance floor. They should have just played a recording of Paul farting in the hospital on a loop. All the wedding guests said goodbye to the newlyweds by lighting the same sparklers that they always show on the news duct-taped to mannequins hands right before they blow their heads off just days before the 4th of July as a safety-tips segment. So, yeah, the same ones. Sadly, no one’s head, arms, hands, or faces were on fire and the wedding went off without a hitch. Everyone got together “the next day” at Kyle’s so they could wrap up the season and pretend that Russell wasn’t eating vegetableless pizza in hell, Kim wasn’t putting the fire out in her meth lab, Brandi didn’t hate her kids, Dana wasn’t pointless, Kyle didn’t have man-hands (or “toe fingers” as my sister likes to call them), Adrienne’s face wasn’t getting puffier by the episode, Camille wasn’t about to get the boot from the series, Lisa wasn’t the color of blush, and Taylor wasn’t a grifter.
All in all I’d say this was a good season. We had beatings, suicide, divorce, and drug problems. The only thing that could have made it better was if Brandi got knocked up and Paul performed the abortion and then bought her new boobs as a push-present. See ya.