First off, boo to you, Bravo for your punny title. You’re better than that. Don’t think that means I’m quitting you, because I can’t. One day they’ll find your promo tee-shirt hanging inside my favorite chambray work shirt and I’ll look stoically across the Wyoming sky, missing you something fierce.
Until then, let’s have fun gawking at crazy rich people! We last left off with Brandi and Kim playing nice at dinner, Kim overcome and crying (“I just have a lot of feelings…”)
Adrienne realized that five whole minutes had gone on without people noticing her, so she said loudly, “UH OH SOMEONE’S CRYING,” to which Brandi replied with a disgusted STFU. Because Brandi is us on Tumblr, right? Right. These ladies are rose gardens and crystal vases and Brandi’s tequila shots. That doesn’t mean they’re better than her.
Adrienne gasps like a fish – her jaw works, just not any other muscles in her face, and repeats how she’s just sad for Kim so she wants everyone to stop what they’re doing and look at Kim cry. Like a friend, okay?
I don’t think I want any Beverly Hills friends, yeesh.
Kyle forgot to be really bossy last week, so she makes up for it here.
Kyle: BRANDI IS TACKY. You don’t FUCKING say FUCK at the fucking dinner table.
Lisa: Sweetie, darling… It’s like me saying “bloody,” aren’t you familiar with curse words as modifiers?
Kyle: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS. But she didn’t put her pinky out once when she sipped her champagne. GROSS. EVERYONE. Hey, guys? [clinks class with fork] I need everyone to admit I’m right.
Lisa: …you do realize that she was coming to your sister’s defense? No? Carry on then. [mumbles] …bunch of wankers.
Just then Yolanda’s eyes begin to glow with fire, commanding all that are near to bow to her glory. “TALK WITH RESPECT TO ONE ANOTHER.”
A waiter scurries to grab a stone tablet and carve her words into it for all to see.
Off in the bathroom, Taylor and Brandi “console” Kim by reenacting a soft-core porno I saw on Cinemax one night.
Everyone rehashes “but you said and I meant to say then she said and I only…” for about ninety three minutes or something, and I am officially over STFU-Gate. (I want to point out that I wrote that as I watched the ep, and then when Lisa Vanderpump called it the same thing I decided that’s because we’re destined to be best friends. I can promise to not say “fuck” at the dinner table. Unless asked politely.)
Brandi rolls her eyes when she comes back and says she’s sorry for using the “F word” at the dinner table (even though she’s not and she kind of shouldn’t be), and Adrienne lifts her chin in an imperial manner and says, “Apology accepted.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake… OOPS. I mean for pity’s sake. Adrienne? I APOLOGIZE.
Moving on, Brandi mentions that she is celebrating getting a book deal, and I can’t help it, it’s hilarious. She totally lit into Taylor last year for writing a book and everyone knows it. (I think Brandi’s reasoning is that her book is about herself and Taylor’s was about her gross husband killing himself when everyone found out that he’d been hitting her. I didn’t say it was a good reason.)
Kyle rolls her eyes, but Taylor launches herself across the table at Brandi, her nails curled into claws as she shrieks, “You don’t know what she’s done to me!” This disrupts Friend-For-Hire Didi/Smeagol from nibbling off the dead skin cells on Camille’s feet – it’s so hard to find a private Japanese pedicurist with a set of carp that don’t have diseases, so Camille has done the next best thing.
Yolanda stands, the air thrumming and rumbling with a dark presence. She says softly, her voice building in strength, “Lots of old stuff at this table. BUT NONE AS OLD AS ME. YOU WILL ALL BOW BEFORE ME AS YOUR QUEEN, TERRIBLE AND BEAUTIFUL. ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!”
She sits back in her seat, pats the corner of her mouth with her napkin and asks, “Don’t you guys discuss things like normal women?”
Kyle softly cries in her seat, Taylor twitches in drunken fear, Kim makes a promise to make an Eye of God in Yolanda’s honor with that leftover yarn in the craft room, and Didi pauses in her nibbling, realizing she may very well have a new queen.
Greatest moment ever, and I swear to Yolanda-God that I am not making this up. Adrienne says, “I got a book deal, too!” and no one says a thing. She holds her glass out to get clinks, and no one moves. The camera is tight on her glass, which is now beginning to shake in her hand. She pulls it back, leaves it just to see if anyone will clink now? No? She sets her drink down on the table. Oh my god, that is…. [kisses fingers]
The next day they wake up to delicious foods prepared for them in their Barbie Dream House, drive around in Bentley golf carts (no, really) and have a fun little race. Yolanda wins, of course. Kyle is terrified because she’s not in charge, ergo: she is going to die. They play badminton, or rather, they stand at a badminton net and swing their rackets fruitlessly for about an hour before deciding that’ll do, Pig.
Off to the spa with some more homoerotic mud rubbing and naked lady under black lights time. Yolanda and Lisa get into a towel fight, and that means they sling hand towels into each other’s faces really hard. I am just not cut out for the glamorous life, I suppose, because that looks awful. (Not the mud and massages, the lady time.) Didi, unseen by all but those who Know Of Her, skitters up the wall to hang in the corner like Shelob, waiting for her Time.
Highlights: Kim moaning as she rubs mud between her thighs (no, really), Camille offering to rub everyone’s backs and looking really into it, and Brandi sipping on her water, thinking to herself, “So that’s how the rich play.”
Chefs prepare their dinner, which looks amazing, and Camille convinces the Executive Chef to carry her plates to the table for her. A banshee shriek pierces the night – it is Didi, kept away from the dinner by a salt circle and sage smudging. She feels the loss of her job keenly.
We learn that Yolanda isn’t drinking alcohol for three months as she’s in the middle of a series of stem cell injections to help her back. She literally has sacrificial lambs bestowed upon her. (Fetal lamb stem cells.)
They all start talking about childbirth, as ladies do, but Camille stays out of it. She used a surrogate (another task not relegated to Didi? OMG, is Didi her surrogate?!) so she can’t contribute to the conversation. Yolanda blithely mentions that her children stepped from the split skulls of swans on the banks of Lethe, as is the custom of her people.
The women start hitting the booze hard, and that’s when Kim and Yolanda excuse themselves. Smart ladies. A lot of lesbian-esque activities happen with arm wrestling, kissing, no panties on while performing head stands (no, really!!) and then Adrienne tries to arm wrestle Brandi by making her wrist limp? Like her brothers did? She really says that. So… I could make an offensive joke here, but I won’t. Mostly I just don’t understand how Adrienne’s mind works nor how she’s a successful business person.
Funniest thing of the night: Brandi saying that Adrienne took out her weave and had fun. OH, SNAP.
Below in the ante chambers, Yolanda rests inside her chrysalis, protected from their shenanigans while recharging her life essence. In the morning, she tells them that it was great they had fun, but she’s not interested in that sort of behavior. “I don’t think there’s anything worse than drunk women.”
WOW. Nothing? Fuck you, Holocaust victims!
I would like to point out that this whole weekend was to be a celebration of Kim’s new-found sobriety and it turned into a drunken orgy. Typical.
Kyle tries to start shit again in the limo ride home, because we stopped paying attention to her a few hours ago. Brandi is all, “I get it. I said fuck. FUCK I will never say fuck again!”
Adrienne barks out, “Everyone stop and look at me now. I’m saying words, look!” and it turns into “but I said when you said and you meant then I said which means that…” type of conversation and I want to stab my eyes out and let ravens suck out the sweet juices, but I don’t, because that’s not fair to you.
Also, I think that would really hurt and I don’t want to be blind. So. No one wins, is what I’m saying.
Next week, Ken goes into surgery and Lisa has a bit of a panic attack. Ack! I love Lisa and Ken, won’t lie.