REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS – 1/23/12

OK, back at the Pumps, with a shot of their backyard statue of the naked man and woman wrestling. Not just yard art, but yard art with a message. Franck has arrived and saunters in like John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever” in his black polka dot blouse. Does anyone remember the 1998 Democratic Convention in the lead-up to outgoing President Clinton’s farewell speech, as the camera trailed him walking the long hallway around the stadium? Straight out of “SNF”, and all I could hear in my head was “well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk”. Part of me thinks they actually were playing “Staying Alive,” in fact, but I can’t find it on YouTube. But ever since, Bill Clinton = Tony Manero for me. “My hair! You hit my hair! I work hard on my hair, and you hit it!”

Anyway, with five hours to go the waitstaff is tossing china on the tables and Lisa’s panicking about the heat. It’s the hottest day of the year! Not to worry, assures Franck, Bravo is springing for A/C units in the tent. Nothing but the best for Mr. Andy! Chi chi chi chi chi! Lisa’s not interested in the martini Franck offers, so she takes it inside and gathers with Pandora and her pink-nightgowned wedding party to get made up by not one! not two! but three identical triplet makeup artists, Korrie, Kelsey, and Kaeli! Do you suppose they always dress alike, or just for Lisa? My sister has twins and she still makes them dress matching, but I wonder how long they’ll put up with that. Into this gaggle of giggling pajamaed Brits and bratz comes our dear, overlooked Max, who has a ferret on his head that Lisa is insisting he shave down before the wedding. She’s one to talk with her Elvis pompadour, but Maxy complies.

Finally, it’s time: Giggy’s in his tuxedo dickie and may go without the jacket as it’s so darn hot. He looks like a Chippendale. Lisa’s in a tampon-pink ball gown with one sparkle-encrusted boob, a pair of colossal dangly earrings, and a tiara that Pandora “insisted” she wear. You know how they say you should look in the mirror and take one thing off? I’d start over if I was Lisa, but that’s just me.

For her part, Pandora looks like a princess, which may be because she has selected a wedding dress that looks exactly like Cinderella’s gown. It’s got a lot of lace and a skirt that looks like a pair of parted curtains. Also a tiara. I like her veil and her hair looks pretty, but altogether it’s too much. Lisa is verklempt. “If Jason loves you half as much as I do, you are a lucky girl,” says Lisa. “He does,” says Pandy. What does that mean? He loves you half as much as your mother does? This does not bode well for married bliss.

The other Housewives who will be attending this blessed event have gathered across the street at the Oof-If Manse, where Adrienne has finally descended in a crinkly olive green halter thing with a messy ponytail that has a chopstick stuck in it. It must be the hairstylist’s night off at the in-home spa, because someone has flatironed Dr. Paul’s hair and it’s a disaster. “Shall we drive?” asks Kyle. “It’s been done before!” says Adrienne, and they all pile in the shuttle to go out the door on the other side.

And so it begins. Instead of an altar Franck has brought in a cheap looking gilded console table, flanked it with some creaky looking candelabrae, piled up a bunch of flowers and stuck an off-kilter mirror in the back. Or is that the door of an old washing machine from a laundromat? And more curtains on top. This is where the blurred-out minister will be administering the vows. Cameras click (do cameras still make that noise?) as Lisa’s pink donkey booty shuffles up the aisle. She can’t move her knees but the mermaid tail lets her scoot her feet along, you see. Mr. Lisa brings our Pandy up, who’s clutching a bouquet of eraser-pink roses that’s entirely too big and thus has a big stump. When asked if he “gives the bride”, Mr. Lisa informs the assembled that he intends to “share” her with Jason. Which is really sort of gross even if I know what he meant by it.