Real Housewives of Beverly Hills 2.13 – Malibu Beach Party From Hell

Taylor cannot BELIEVE that DD would show up in her gee-maw's nightgown to a party. So tacky.

My secret BFF Justin the Ladysitter makes an appearance! [And you can play spot the stalker with me in that scene.] Friend-for-hire DD shows up! She even turned her Nana’s sofa’s afghan into a dress! Exposed nipples! Claw your eyes out girlfighting! Yep, we’re going to hang at Malibu Stacy’s, grab a pair of wedges and let’s get to it.


But first, Lisa and Pandora have to decide on place settings for the upcoming wedding. Bobby Trendy has set up three different scenarios, a round table with a tall and over-spilling vase of roses, which I love, a round table with a drapey chandelier dripping onto the table cloth (how can you see people across from you?) and a long rectangular table with an arch of greenery and roses affixed to the corners of the table. How do the heads of the table maneuver around that? Yes, it’s pretty, but eventually they’re going to want to eat. Or move their arms.

Lisa and Pandora love the rectangular table for the bride and groom (they’ll be in the middle, so they won’t have greenery banging into their elbows) and then pick elements they love from each option to make it just right. Lisa keeps jumping in with what she picks, forgetting it’s Pandora’s day. Pandy finds her voice, though. Right when Bobby tells Lisa that it’s a $1,000,000 wedding, so have fun!

“No, it’s not. I’ll shove a million dollar foot up your arse.” Bobby, if you want that check to clear, you better start listening to your client. The more I see him, the more I think he’s Bruce Lee’s effeminate brother. Not that it’s a bad thing, mind.

Kyle takes her mother in law, Estelle, to Paul’s office for her final face lift checkup. She looks very natural, I have to say. They pull her hair back behind her ears and son of a gun, you cannot see any stitches. Paul? You’re good. Estelle still has expressions and she can turn her neck, so she’s way ahead of the game for women her age in Beverly Hills.

Kyle bemoans the whole thing, she’d much rather take really good care of her skin and let nature take its course. She has a massive needle phobia and wants the Botox and Juvederm to die down. (Come on, Kyle, I’ve seen your forehead. You’ve had Botox.) But still, I totally agree with this sentiment. (And can I just put in a plug for Origins’ ‘Dr. Andrew Weil’ line and Plantscriptions? I get no money from them, but I would take money from them. Or free product. Or keep buying it, because that stuff is outstanding.)

Adrienne meets Brandi for lunch. They order a grilled pizza that’s meant for one person – it is grilled dough with a drizzle of olive oil, cucumbers, and maybe some basil? That’s about it. They split it. And use a knife and fork to cut it. I love that the camera men zoomed in on that. Holy crow, ladies, pick the damn thing up, it’s the size of a silver dollar.

Brandi talks about the party in Malibu that she wants to host, maybe some wine tasting, some girl talk, some belly dancing? Adrienne thinks it sounds awesome, but warns her about the ongoing feud between Camille and Taylor. Protip: if Adrienne Maloof is worried about a potential dust up, you best listen to her.

Kyle has my fake-best friend Justin the Ladysitter over, helping her prepare for a Cinco de Mayo fiesta. Now. If you still have this episode on your DVR (or go record it again) pause your screen right when Kyle opens the fridge. And then look in the upper right corner of your TV. Who the hell is that guy staring into the window with a hand shielding his eyes?! Oh, it’s probably just a PA, but still. It creeped the hell out of me when I first saw that.

Justin is running the show as Kyle scrambles around, spreading baby carrots on a too-big plate. She tells him that it’s all their Mexican amigos y amigas este noche – they’re all Mauricio’s friends. (He’s Mexican. And Russian. And Jewish. And hot.) Speaking of, he comes out in some Dolce and Gabbana khakis (they make those? Really?) and Kyle is totally over his disgusting shoes, they’re ruining the whole outfit. He side eyes her and puts on some brown shoes and tucks in his shirt. It’s like he’s wearing a completely different outfit. I guess? Whatever, the man can wear a potato sack, am I right, ladies and gents?

People arrive and it’s all chatter about how amazing Estelle’s face looks, and they all peer into her hairline and watch her swivel and I just find it very strange. But I love that Justin is sitting at the table, too. See? He’s not “help” he just helps. For a fee. Whatever, I need a ladysitter of my own. I’m taking applications.

Lisa and Ken check out the space next door to her restaurant to see how the expansion is coming. So far, so good, except for how you can see the bathroom door, and Lisa thinks this means some yahoo is going to hit the head with the door open, and the whole ambiance will be ruined. Fix the door, please. The contractor tells her how pretty she looks. Uh huh. Fix the god damned door. But really, she does look pretty, as usual. Also, I covet that suit she’s wearing, fits her like a glove.

Random moment with Adrienne unpacking her new shoe line and Paul walking through the house calling out, “Adrienne!” a la Rocky Balboa. Ha. I like Paul, he’s so goofy and out of place with her perfectly plasticene coiffed self, it cracks me up.

Random moment with Kim saying that yes, Brandi invited her to the party, but Brandi doesn’t exist, so how can she go to a party hosted by a ghost? Besides, she has sheets to fold and Cheetos to eat.

Camille makes her two friends walk down a half-mile of stone steps in their heels to climb into an awaiting limo. There’s not a street level exit, Camille? Or are you just wanting to show how talented in heels you are compared to your friends? Oh, I see I answered my own question. And seeing as one of the friends is DD, I doubly approve. There’s another woman, that I assume is acting as The Muscle.

We have some back and forth with Taylor getting ready and climbing into her limo, worried and stressed about seeing Camille. Kyle runs out of her house, jumps in the limo with Taylor, and they pop the bottle on some Chardonnay for the long drive out to Malibu. Taylor says how she’s “grossed out.” What? “You know when someone’s hurt you and you feel gross?” Um… this is our first indication that we aren’t talking about Camille anymore.

Camille tells her hired friends that she’s tried to apologize multiple times, but Taylor isn’t interested. DD starts earning her bonus right away. “That’s just rude. You don’t do that to Camille! Nobody puts baby in a corner. I will kill for you, just say the word.”

Camille purrs, “No drama tonight, promise me.” Ha. Riiiiiight.

DD checks her contract’s fine print and agrees. Then tips her a big ol’ wink. (I’m fairly certain the camera would have shown that.)

The Malibu house is very low key outside, looks like a jam-packed neighborhood, and then you go inside and it’s gorgeous. Beautiful views of the ocean, tastefully decorated, and the owner seems like a down to earth lady, all things considered. Everyone is in a dress, except for Adrienne. She’s in a leather top and skinny jeans. The house is gorgeous, the food looks beautiful, the wine is fabulous and Brandi’s nipples are amazing. Oh, Brandi is in a white dress, no bra, and let me just be up front. If I had that body? I’d walk around in pasties and heels all the damn time. Her body is flawless. Also? They’re just boobs.

As you might have guessed, the older ladies in the crowd are all bothered by the nip-display. Girls? You all have boobs. They all – presumably – have nipples. Can we not hate our bodies and their natural reaction to life by tearing each other down? Who cares if her headlights are on. They’re pointing in the same direction, at least, which is pretty amazing in and of itself, let’s get frank. Also, her boobs are normal woman-sized for her frame, not pumped up double-Es.

We see DD’s dress, and bless. Wait, no, isn’t she like a stylist? Or something? Yes, she is a stylist and hair dresser and her dress looks like it’s made of yellow Yo Yos, you know those craft rosettes grandmas all over the world made with their calico scraps to turn into holiday vests and quilts you shoved in the closet to hide? Come on, DD, if you’re going to hang with Camille and the others, you need to step up your game. Surely Camille’s given you some of her fashionable cast offs, you don’t have to wear the babydoll dress you bought to wear with bike shorts for the Nirvana concert back in 1994.

Brandi’s belly dancing friend arrives, and she is gorgeous, too. She passes out scarves with bells on it, and it’s just like the belly dancing party from the New Jersey housewives. Well, if Melissa Gorga could do the dirty splits, that is, because Kyle immediately pulls focus and slides down to the floor in the left to right splits. And I swear, at one point DD comes bouncing through the crowd in front of the camera, as if to say, “I see your ‘look at me,’ Kyle, and I raise you a more desperate, ‘LOOK AT ME.’”

Taylor does a hoe-down, Kyle swings her hair, her patented dance move, and Brandi comments on how Kyle just really needs the attention. Brandi, I’ve come around on you, but I can see the color of your nipples. I can almost count the bumps on the edge of your areolas. Are you really going to talk about someone wanting to be looked at? Then Kyle flashes a laser light on Brandi’s boobs, and it’s just so damn childish. OKAY, KYLE, YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NIPPLES, WE GET IT.

Again, who cares? It’s not you, so who cares? If she wants to put her tuhs in a white knit dress and they’re up and looking fab, let her. Slap yours in some Maidenform and call it a day.

Taylor goes outside because she can’t stand being around Camille (who is doing nothing but trying to be friendly, it must be noted) and we see that DD is getting bowed up and rowdy over by Camille. Camille tells her to chill, but I don’t think she means it. This is the woman that brought Alison DuBois to a dinner party, after all. That’s all that was missing tonight, by the way.

DD decides that she needs to intervene (oh my god, who ARE you?) and tells Taylor to “come on, she loves you!” Taylor, barely keeping her face under control, says that she can’t, because Camille brought up “other stuff. That puts my daughter into danger. This can hurt me!”

Camille says the most sensible thing of the night. “I’m not putting her in danger, she is.”

DD starts in on how Camille was hysterical about this, but Taylor is still hysterical, put a point in Taylor’s column. Oh, and Camille is standing right behind DD listening, but turned slightly away, because that makes her invisible? Taylor finally says she’ll talk to Camille, which means DD follows and I swear to whoever, Taylor shoves DD back into the house. “You’re not in charge of her!”

DD grabs a lock of Taylor’s hair because there is going to be some Santeria Haitian voodoo on Miss Oklahoma’s ass later, no one usurps DD’s place by Camille’s side, no one! DD keeps pushing her way into the conversation, everyone is drunk on way too much wine – they have zero body fat, it’s all going straight to their heads – and Brandi and Adrienne get in the mix to shut it down.

Adrienne manhandles Taylor against the railing on the back deck to hold her in place,which means Taylor fakes like she’s going to jump over the railing to the rocks and ocean below. Ha, good joke! No, it’s not. Kyle pushes her away from the railing to a chair, DD is still puffed up and spoiling for a fight. You are not an official cast member, DD. Get out of the camera shot. You’re not even in Dana’s league here. (Oh, that’s sad.)

Some older woman with a lot of plastic in her face, almost looking like a cat, shuffles over on her Valentino heels and says, “Look at the ocean. It’s still going to be there long after we’re gone.”

And that magically stops all the anger in the world, ever. Your husband’s money finally went to good use; your chakra aligner was right, the ocean is going to be there for ever. Who cares about spousal abuse, right? I mean, guys? The ocean, okay?

DD comes back AGAIN and shouts at Taylor before she’s pushed away (probably by Adrienne. She’s tiny, but tough.) Taylor shouts at everyone to go away so she and Camille can talk which means DD comes back a-fucking-gain and starts in on how Camille has been hurting for a year and a half and blah blah, this isn’t about Kelsey and his cheating ways, DD, get with the program. Taylor starts shouting back, and I thought I heard her say about Camille that she “has herpes so much!”

It was “hurt me so much,” but she’s all snotty and puffy, and words are difficult to understand coming out of that mess. DD shouts back, crying and I swear, she wore that god awful short mu mu dress so she could hide her ceremonial knife in a garter and she is going to cut off Taylor’s lips to sacrifice them to the gods of friendship and devotion. She’s manhandled out of there, Adrienne slaps her hand over Taylor’s mouth to shut her up, oh, no no no.

Let’s not restrain the woman who is being abused by her husband with physical force, not when she’s freaking out as well. Come on, ladies. Kyle intercedes quickly there, “Don’t cover her mouth!” Taylor is absolutely out of control, sobbing, yelling, screaming, scrambling on the table to reach out and claw DD’s eyes (its eyes, must do something to its eyes!) when Brandi steps in, wanting them all to respect her authori-tah.

She tells Taylor to leave, to which Taylor responds, “Fuck you, Brandi!” Um…it’s her party! Kyle points at Brandi’s face, which is a no no. Brandi slaps her hand away (and come on, she heard them making fun of her boobs all night, this is her party that was supposed to be nice, she has a right to kick people out.) Kyle gets livid fast, completely missing that she doesn’t have a leg to stand on here.

Kyle and Taylor make a hasty exit, even leaving Taylor’s wrap because it was time to go. Older Cat-Confucius says, “We are an evolved species, no fighting! Now let’s all sit on mirrors and write thank you cards to our vaginas, like ladies.”

DD is crying, trying to touch Camille, just wanting to feel her crepey arm skin, just needing her to know how much DD worships her, how much she’s done for her. How many she’s sacrificed in her name. “I love you!” she cries out. “I sat in your closet crying today listening to you talk about this. I know you didn’t realize I was there, but I was. I’m always there. Watching. Waiting. …wanting.”

Camille demures, “I know.”

“I love you, Camille. I want to be with you. I want to be you. I want to wear your skin and eat your liver and once I do the voices promised they’d stop!”

Brandi and Adrienne cool off in the other room. Brandi just wants to know what the hell happened. Adrienne chalks the night up to being over, and quietly leaves after thanking the hostesses. Brandi turns to her friend (the home owner) and starts crying, “What just happened?” Her friend can’t believe what went down tonight, either. Brandi is now sobbing into her friend’s shoulder; she just wanted to have a nice party and fit in with these ladies.

(Do you really want to, though? After tonight?)

On the long limo ride home, Taylor is screaming for a lighter so she can have a smoke. Kyle doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t smoke, so… Taylor shrieks for the driver to pull over (I hope you tipped well, he didn’t bargain for this cray-cray, ladies) so she can find one. She is just out of control at this point.

She starts in on the ugly cry, breaks down completely. (Kyle realizes this has nothing to do with Camille, but doesn’t know what to do.) Taylor cries, “I can’t live my life like this, Kyle.” I notice that her face doesn’t move, but the tears on her face mean that someone’s still in there, under all the pretense and desperation.

Girl, someone needs to slap you upside the head (figuratively) and tell you to get the hell away from your life, because you have a severe allergy to your marriage. Which is pretty much what Camille tried to do, but she walked away before it sunk in, unfortunately.


Next Week: Vegas shenanigans! Taylor breaks down even more! (Christ, step in, someone and get her some help!) Kim wears an acid wash jacket!