Real housewives of Beverly Hills 3.10 – Home Is Where The Art Is

Brandi, you need better friends, seriously.

Brandi, you need better friends, seriously.

Brandi continues to get a beat down (yeesh), the Morally Corrupt Faye Resnick is a designer to “A-Listers” (I laughed so hard at her list), and Kim sees dead people.  No wonder she always has that deer in the headlight’s stare!

And I don’t think anything makes me happier about this show than when a psychic is brought on.  Clearly I need to ditch the writing gig and start pointing out portals and ghost children to bored, wealthy California ladies.

We left off with yet another dinner ending in a fight where people gang up on poor Brandi, only this time is was Mauricio. ¡Oh, Papí, no! Kyle finally tries to right things by saying yeah, her husband has opinions, ergo he’s allowed to be a dick. That’s some Rush Limbaugh reasoning there, Kyle.

Brandi’s all, “I AM ON THE EDGE HERE, PEOPLE, JUST KEEP PUSHING,” until Ken steps in to defend her again, with Lisa reminding them of how hypocritical they’re all being, and I just really love the Vanderpumps. Brandi excuses herself to hit the head and Kyle says the most wonderful thing ever:

“I am not going to try and make peace with people anymore.”

Smart decision, because you’re terrible at it, lady.

Taylor realizes an entire five minutes went by without everyone stopping what they were doing and looking at her, so she waves her hands in the air and reminds them all that her husband committed suicide and she knows things, okay? She’s been down that road, right?

Yolanda wonders why no one notices how Taylor is a drama queen screaming for attention. Camille, trapped next to Taylor as Taylor goes off on almost spilling a secret and being Drunky VonMouthVomit, leans away from Taylor with the most amazing, “Bitch, please do not include me on your team, thank you” face I’ve ever witnessed.  Camille?  I miss you. Come back.

I miss you desperately.

I miss you desperately.

They do an actual camera interview with Camille where she says (no, really) “We don’t want to know about your story again, Taylor.”  Ha ha ha!

Yolanda and Lisa calm Brandi down, Yolanda finds this all dees-gusteeng, and Kyle and Mauricio bag on Brandi.  SWEAR TO GOD, Taylor wedges herself into the shot and flails her arms, cackling madly.  LOOK AT ME, MAMA! LOOK AT MEEEEEEE!

Brandi tells Mauricio to stop attacking her and then leaves.  Fun night!  Hope Mauricio picked up the check. Ken and Lisa high-tail it to the Polo Lounge for a nightcap so Lisa can get drunk enough to give Ken the key to her backdoor, hey-o.

Later in the week, Kyle has the Bickersons over for snacks and booze (my kind of shindig) and again, I swear to god, Adrienne and Paul start sniping at each other on the sidewalk leading up to the house.  Paul has his hand on her lower back as she toddles her way along the brick pavers in her Maloof Hoof Heels and she hisses, “Don’t push me.”  Paul?  PUSH HER.

The actual snack and booze hour is boring because they can’t say anything so it’s all innuendo and dirty looks between the Bickersons and bleh. NEXT.

Cut to the sexiest damn thing I’ve seen in my life, and I had legit tears when I paused the screen: a shot of a parked Bugatti Veyron, and one day ONE DAY YOU WILL BE MINE. Give me a minute…

Okay. Yolanda heads over to one of her ex (Muhammed)’s mansion-palaces because she’s now a decorator.  Thing is?  Her decor is a lot nicer than the Morally Corrupt Faye Resnick’s, which consisted of plain silk drapes and a silver credenza for the “final design” of Kyle’s dining room.

As Yolanda directs the movers around the palace, she chastises one of the workers for not speaking fluent English.  She says, “When I come [sic] to this country, I know yes, no, please. I study every night, now I speak English. You do this, too!” She even makes him promise that he’ll miraculously become fluent while working three jobs and supporting a family back in Mexico while hiding from the law.  (I am making an assumption, but let’s not act like many non-English speaking Mexican laborers are here illegally and working their asses off, okay?)

WHITE WOMAN, YOU HAVE NERVE is what I’m saying.  Why don’t you give him a giant tip and a copy of Rosetta Stone?

But the best part of the whole episode is at Kim’s house in the valley, where you can’t hear the moans of the low-budget pornos being made at the neighbors for all of the moaning her resident ghosts do.  To get to the bottom of that, she invites her psychic Rebecca over.  Because like a pool man, a florist, and masseur, you need a psychic.

Kim feels spirits in her room, which makes sense, Rebecca says, because there are spirits in her room. (Is this a booze joke?  It’s really fucking subtle and brilliant, if so.) These are the spirits of Kim’s future grandchildren.  Oh, for crying…  Also, there’s a woman that sits on her bed and watches Kim, and that woman is not her dead mother. (I think it’s Rosie the housekeeper waiting around to get paid, personally.)

BUT IN THE LIVING ROOM. In the living room there’s a portal. You heard me. There’s a portal there where spirits come and go, and Rebecca points to the fireplace, which fills Kim with glee.  KIM: YOU ARE NOT ON THE FLOO NETWORK. Wow, just your everyday portal to another dimension right over yonder by the gas log. Sure.  That’ll be $5000, please.

There’s a nice moment with Yolanda looking gorgeous in another pair of skintight white jeans (bitch) and how close she and Mohammed still are because of their children, and that’s nice.  I really admire that, actually.

Kyle is mannequin shopping to fill up a new store that she’s partnering up to open. She saw a great shop in Boca Raton and wants to recreate that in Beverly Hills.  It’s Chico’s.  She wants Chico’s. Faye is there, because Faye is a wunderkind in the design world, so says her A-List clients, like Nick Lachey. I think you meant D-List, Faye.  D.  Not A. They pretend to not ogle the naked porn mannequins and then drive away with two jammed in the backseat. Kinky.

Brandi has dinner with the new girl Marissa, because they evidently hit it off?  Okay.  And Brandi sits next to Marissa’s cute husband, and across from the cute husband is Marissa’s brother.  Who she sits with at the table.  So that’s how it is in their family.

It gets awkward fast with Marissa bagging on her husband right there in front of everyone and how she wishes he’d get over that whole “integrity as an artist” thing and stop making indie films and get with a studio.  “Snow Dogs 2: This Time It’s Personal” isn’t going to make itself, buddy. Brandi is clearly not okay with all the husband abuse.  Me, neither.  Yikes.

The next day the crew braves the harsh world of Compton to  film at Brandi’s house.  I mean, you guys?  She has a telephone pole in her front yard. I bet her neighbors raise fighting cocks. Yadda, she’s pretty even with rollers in her hair as she calls Kyle to make sure that the art gallery show coming up won’t be another chance for Mauricio to yell at her.

Kyle says, “I don’t hold grudges.”

Kim immediately floos over to Kyle’s to scream “YES YOU DO.”

AND OH MY GOD.  I just realized what Kim did with all of that chicken salad she whipped up in that mini-bathtub! She dumps her leftovers in the portal.  In some hell dimension, there are 100 foot tall centipedes munching down on some Waldorf Salad and thinking, “Hell’s not bad, you know?”

The gallery showing is pretty meh.  I mean, it’s nothing super exciting and they’re all there at something crazy like 6pm, so it’s not anything huge on the Beverly Hills social calendar.  However, Yolanda shows up and starts low balling the artist/owner over a painting he says is worth $14,000.  I’ll admit it’s steep, seeing as I have no clue who this guy is or why he’s a significant artist.  But these people poop money. Her argument is that she’s a decorator (wow) and her work means he’ll be exposed to important people, so make it $7000.

$8500.

$8000, she counters and makes the deal.  (See, she wants that as a Father’s Day present for Davidmylove, and $14,000 is a lot for a Father’s Day gift.  I just do not understand the thought process here, I really don’t.  What, there’s a $10K cap on Father’s Day or something?)

Kyle shows up in a headband, and really?  Ladies, don’t wear these.  DO NOT.  First off, you think it’s cute, and it’s not.  You think it’s sexy, and what, you go home to bang some dude and that comes off to reveal a red indention all across your face?  Who thinks this is a good look?  STOP. STAHP.

_rhobh headband

Honestly, I’m surprised Taylor didn’t tackle someone and wrestle their shoelace away to wrap around her head so people would look at her, too.

Blah, chatter, upcoming trips, and here comes Paris Hilton, walking like she’s trying to keep it from sliding out (that’s why you use condoms, girlfriend. Too much?  Did I take us somewhere wrong?  I’m…I’m saying she takes it up the ass, bare.  Was that clear? Don’t leave me.)

Do people remember me? My eyes are black and soulless.

Do people remember me? My eyes are black and soulless.

Paris can’t come (that’s what the 2007 Denver Broncos said, OH SNAP!) to this upcoming Vegas trip because, wait for it, she’s closing for J. Lo in Brazil.

Paris?  People who “close” a headlining concert are called janitors.  Perdón: conserje. (Shit, that’s Spanish, and she’s going to be in Brasil.) It’s a bad gig, is what I’m saying.

This is her first big show, and it’s going to be amazing, and only the coolest people of South America who still give a shit about J. Lo will be there which means you can’t come, so laters!  I have to ingratiate myself to some bouncers at the Viper Room so I can be seen around town and maintain relevance, byeeeeee!

Gross.  I do not ever want to be a socialite, guys.  Never ever.

Marissa arrives and starts in on her husband, who the editors keep cutting to in order to show how nice a guy he is – and seriously, I’d snatch that up in a heartbeat, lady, and I bet half of Hollywood would, too.  Yadda, yadda, she married too soon, had kids too soon, she’s not even the same person as when they met and yeah, I predict a divorce in six months.

Brandi even says to stop throwing her husband under the bus. When Brandi “Shut the fuck up!” Glanville is telling you how to behave in public… Gorl, it’s bad behaviors, m’kay?

Taylor tries to convince everyone to do shots and tell her how pretty and wonderful she is when Mauricio saves the day by bringing an “amazing” bottle of gin over to Ken, trying to make amends.  Lisa isn’t having any of it, and it’s time for them to dash, dahling, and after they leave, Mauricio acts like an old lady at a knitter’s club to bitch and gossip about them to Taylor and Kyle.

Mauricio! What happened to you? At least my husband no longer has to hear me sighing with delight every time you come on screen.  Thanks for nothing, bub.

Next week! Suzanne Summers and her crazy vitamin regimen for life-long sex, stripper poles, and Brandi calling Marissa out for douching her husband.

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6 Responses to Real housewives of Beverly Hills 3.10 – Home Is Where The Art Is

  1. I need to re-watch to make sure I’m right but didn’t Yolanda say something like “girls gather around Ken and put your titties up” . I was on Benadryl so may I just wished that happened. Great recap!

  2. Marisa is trying too hard to be Claire on Modern Family. Except Claire is funny annoying and people like her. Claire and her husband are more like Lisa and Ken. Marisa makes Maloof look like she’s happily married. Hate Marisa.

  3. Hahahahahahaa:

    Kim immediately floos over to Kyle’s to scream “YES YOU DO.”

    I love the idea of Paris “closing” a show. You mean the music you hear when the lights come on and everyone is leaving the concert? Or do you mean closing a show as in working as a roadie and taking down the stage?

    When are the spider eggs from “The Believers” going to hatch out of Adrienne’s face?

    • I am so glad SOMEONE laughed at the Floo jokes. You know she and Kyle faked British accents trying to get auditions for that franchise.

      I laughed so fucking hard when Paris simpered that she was closing a show for J. Lo. That’s like opening for Jackson Browne’s South African tour.

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