Real Housewives of Beverly Hills 3.7 – Oy, Faye

When a spot of tea is the most hilarious thing on your episode, you need to revisit why your show exists, Bravo.

When a spot of tea is the most hilarious thing on your episode, you need to revisit why your show exists, Bravo.

The morally corrupt Faye Resnick (Camille’s term, not mine) shows up at a dinner party doing that voo doo that she do so well: gettin’ up in someone’s grill over the first course. We also meet a new potential Housewife but I don’t know why she’d be one seeing as she wasn’t irritating, braggy, or awful. Why do we want to watch that?

This was one of those episodes where they clearly were dragging things out just to fill the docket.

 Remember that Brandi said something about Paul and Adrienne that no one got to hear because the editors of the show hate us? (And hate litigious folks even more?)  So here’s the real scoop: Adrienne is a man, Paul is actually a trained monkey, and they almost got away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid.

Adrienne left after delivering a seriously scathing “….you watch.”  Taylor has her lady sitter there cooing and clucking over her, because screaming automatically means that everyone needs to stop what they’re doing at LOOK. AT. HER.  This is all really hard on Taylor, okay?  Because she was like, five feet away from people arguing about something totally unrelated to her?  WON’T SOMEONE THINK OF THE TAYLOR?

Kyle pissy-stomps over to Kim, pissed that she told Adrienne that everyone was like, totally talking about Adrienne behind her back about secretly being an alien with a cloaca because this night was about Mauricio being hot and selling shit, KIM.

Kim rears back, the stitches behind her ears straining with the effort of her horrified glare and is all, “I guess I’m just a better friend than you, Kyle, because I tell people all the things you’re not supposed to repeat! LIKE A FRIEND.”

Taylor, surrounded by a coerced audience, tells them all that she would never share all of the secrets she knows about these people.  All of the many, many secrets that only she is privy to, all of the dirty, filthy, disgusting things she knows about EVERYONE HERE, OKAY?  LOOK AT ME.  GUYS. I KNOW THINGS.  But if you keep inviting me to parties, I’ll keep my giant lips zipped.

Kyle pissy-stomps past her, hissing, “This isn’t about you, Taylor.”  Well, not if you’re going to keep insisting on people focusing, Kyle, god.

Camille fusses with her clothes, thinking that maybe she should have brought Friend for Hire Didi to keep her tidy like a little shrimp in a fish tank.  And this isn’t the same thing, talking about Adrienne’s alien bird cloaca, because that was a private family matter.  Taylor getting the shit beat out of her was something Taylor was telling everyone.  (Taylor?  Draw attention to herself?  No way.)

Brandi tries to apologize to Mauricio, who is pissed. Those units aren’t going to move themselves, Brandi.  Brandi makes the right decision to just leave as Camille gives her a Queenly Nod.  Yes, peasant.  Exuent thyself.

Lisa is at her gorgeous estate with her ancient friend Martin as they watch people fix things.  Meanwhile, Ken is bitching about needing her to get her sweet, fat English arse back up to him for a spot of tea.  He’s being awful on purpose, she loves every minute of it, and she is clearly just as wrapped around his finger as he is to her.  Aww.  BOR-ING.

Kim, the recovering alcoholic, hits Pilates with her daughters to talk about her son’s upcoming 21rst birthday party in Las Vegas.  And how she’s going.  Oh, but she’ll have AA meetings while she’s there.  Girlfriend, why are you walking into the lion’s den? Then again, Kim is not known for her bright ideas, and I’m looking at her high school janitor boyfriend here.

Kyle is at home but all I see is Mauricio sweep in after a hard day’s work and wonder why she isn’t literally undressing him and pushing him onto that sumptuous bed?  WHY WOULD YOU NOT DO THAT ARE YOUR EYES BROKEN?

Mauricio lays out that he finds Brandi “disgusting” because she just says anything she wants and thinks “Oops, sorry!” will fix it.  He’s not wrong. That’s harsh, though.  Kyle has a dinner party coming up to celebrate – and I’m not making this up – her dining room being decorated, and Brandi was invited.  But they’re aren’t the “uninvite people” types, so. It’s gonna get awkward.

To figure out how to deal with this, Kyle has lunch with BFF Faye Resnick (the morally corrupt because she posed in Playboy, heavens!). Faye gets some Alison DuBois vibes and is excited to be at the dinner with this Brandi character.  I want to like Faye, I really do.  She carries herself (mostly) like a lady, she seems fair (usually), and whoever is yanking her face back is doing an amazing job of it, because she looks good.  I mean, she looks Beverly Hills plastic-feline and over forty but weirdly ageless like all of those women do, but her plastic surgeon makes it look like that’s how she was always going to end up.

Time for an amuse bouche of Yolanda fiercely storming her own stairs in pursuit of the holy grail of all California women: the tightest buns and thighs in the land. Let me remind you that she’s in her 50s and looks amazing. God dammit.

Nord Goddess Yolanda proves that the immortal must also perform squat thrusts on occasion.

Nord Goddess Yolanda proves that the immortal must also perform squat thrusts on occasion.

Her trainer, who is a delicious salt and pepper gentleman, is fifty-seven, and he is scrumptious  and does that make me old, now that it doesn’t creep me out to be attracted to a guy in his late 50s?  I’m getting close to that age where I’m attracted to older men just when they stop feeling attracted to age-appropriate women.  Which brings us back to Yolanda, who is doing prison push ups and cherry squats.

She wants to stay young and tight and gorgeous so her husband doesn’t leave her. Uh… If you think your husband would leave you over your looks, you have married a shallow asshole.  So much for “true love” and romance. This is where I state for the record that I want no part of this kind of life. It’s just gross and surface and icky to me.  It makes me think all of these people are oily-skinned and smell.  Of deceit.



Brandi drops by Lisa’s to flirt with Ken (he responds by showing her his surgery scar OH MY GOD PUT YOUR SHIRT DOWN SIR) and talk about what happened at Kyle and Mauricio’s party.  She knows that Adrienne and Paul can “ruin her” – they’ve already “leaked” a story to about her being a drug addict and an unfit mother, and JFC, Adrienne, so we all know you have a bird cloaca and alien livers!

Lisa is just baffled at the hypocrisy of Adrienne leaking something to the tabloids, when her and Lisa’s friendship was ruined over Adrienne accusing Lisa of having done as much.  Adrienne is gross to me, guys, I’m sorry.  I liked her the first season, but then she just kept harping and making fun of people and nope. No likey.  And Brandi says quietly that things can get a lot worse.  Uh oh.

Kyle’s party is happening, and it’s…well, the food looks good?  The Lisa Vanderpump flowers on the table are lovely and I happen to be a huge fan of the candles she’s giving everyone, but…isn’t this supposed to be because of her amazingly decorated dining room?  It’s underwhelming.  (There should be another window treatment like roman shades or something, or the camera needed to pull back to show us this “amazing” room.)

I think it's hilarious how much taller than everyone Brandi is. (That's new girl Marissa on the right.)

I think it’s hilarious how much taller than everyone Brandi is. (That’s new girl Marissa on the right.)

We meet the new girl (is she sticking around, though?  Dana left after the few episodes she did, sadly) who is old school Hollywood Royalty. (Her grandfather started Fox. Or Paramount. Something big.) She, however, is teeny. She’s quiet and sits watching everyone, so she needs to either start flashing her lady box to the camera, call people slut pigs, or get to flipping tables, because this is Real Housewives, not “no really, here are some actual housewives calmly eating dinner.”

The food looks amazing, Kyle has controlled everything down to where people will sit, and we hear that Kim’s not there because she’s off not-drinking in Vegas, and Adrienne isn’t there because she didn’t want to come.  Brandi feels bad about that, because deep down she’s good people.  She offered to not come so Adrienne wouldn’t feel awkward, but the damage was done, I suppose.

New Girl Marissa: What’s the whole story? [innocently sips giant cocktail]

Oho, new girl.  Maybe you do serve a purpose? Brandi says, “I said things I shouldn’t have.  But here are more things I shouldn’t say because I never learned to have a filter and oh god someone stop me, I don’t know how to do this on my own and I just really wish Adrienne wasn’t so in love with me you know, and I guess now she’s on crack–”

Stop being a mean girl, Brandi! That's my job.

Stop being a mean girl, Brandi! That’s my job.

“Stop being a Mean Girl,” Faye says, cutting into Brandi’s word vomit. “What, so at Sur you just couldn’t help but want to impress the others? Did you have an awesome time? Did you drink awesome shooters, listen to awesome music, and then just sit around and soak up each others awesomeness?”

Brandi: I don’t understand–

Faye: Look, I don’t want to fight. I mean, hey. You’re really pretty.

Brandi: Thanks.

Faye: So you agree?

Brandi: What?

Faye: You think you’re really pretty?

Brandi: I don’t…

Faye: You’re a life ruiner. You ruin people’s lives. You can’t sit with us!!

Brandi stumbles out the door and everyone cowers with fear, not wanting to make eye contact with Faye more than necessary.

Except for Marissa. She’s totally on Brandi’s side of the argument, but Faye isn’t interested in hearing anything she hasn’t already decided on, okay Marissa?

…how is it that two unofficial cast members got a lot of air time tonight? Step it up, ladies. Next week, Taylor is finally given a reason to cry (uh oh – I don’t want there to be ACTUAL sorrow) and Brandi confronts the poor young waitress that was duped into sex by Brandi’s ex.  Ugh.