Morning has broken and Yo has dragged The Glands out on a jog through the Louvre and down along the Seine. Way to look like tourists because French Women Don’t Jog. The gals share their fondest memories of their modeling days in Paris, which seems to be the tie that binds. I’m fondly flashing back to “Ratatouille”, myself. The Glands has always gotten along with foreign girls better than Americans, and her modeling days were the happiest of her life. They turn cartwheels. I would really laugh if Yo and her Lululemon scuba jacket ended up in the Seine.
Meanwhile, the Umanskys are staggering along to a lovers’ bridge where they are going to sign their names to a lock and throw the key away into the river to demonstrate their undying love. Didn’t this happen on The Bachelor, but not in Paris? I sort of think it was Ashley Hebert’s season and whoever she did this lock deal with she dumped immediately thereafter. Kyle is wearing a red blazer and a pair of black bell bottoms that completely obscure her feet so she looks like Nutcracker Gumby. Mauricio, dressed far more casually, hurls the key into the Seine and it almost lands on a fast-passing barge. That was close! Perhaps the Umansky marriage will be one of the lucky few that survives Housewifery after all.
Our remaining travelers, the Pumps and Kimmy, went shopping. With Giggy, of course. Mr. Lisa is carrying little Gigs and Kimmy is tottering along on wedges, apparently challenged to keep up with Lisa’s confident stride in her platform stilettos. So Kim can’t walk any better than she can talk right now, which adds fuel to Lisa’s speculation that she’s not entirely dried out at the moment. Lisa has observed that Kim seems disoriented one minute and fine the next. You know what I think this is? Tiredness, and maybe a little travel anxiety. I’m feeling the same way today. Sometimes the simplest explanation is also the best.
In the afternoon, Lisa shares her concerns about Kimmy’s sobriety, or lack thereof, to Yo and Mr. Lisa outside the Cathedral du Notre Dame. Yo’s got her hair in two pigbuns and is wearing a weird beige moto jacket and nude leggings that are very People of Walmart. Alors! Anyway, Kim told someone she was taking some sort of medication, and Yo is worried that while it is supposedly intended to support her recovery, a newly sober person could get tripped up. Since when is Yo such an expert on addiction? She really seems to fancy herself a regular Dr. Pinsky. The three soberly speculate on Kim’s sobriety. Let’s lay off Kimmy, please!
Anyway: Yo has arranged for the crew to take a group cooking class so the Wives gather out front of their hotel to hop into the Sprinter for transport like Gosselins. Everyone is practically dressed for kitchenwork in shades of nude and white (there are those damn Yojeans again) except… Kim! Where’s Kim? It’s like deja vu of Hawaii all over again as Kyle and Yo traipse back upstairs to pound on her door. Yo even has a helpful knocking implement just for the purpose. Kim finally comes to the door and guess what? She was napping. Like a normal jet-lagged American. Kyle is chastened, but Lisa and her pink leopard valise are not, so when Kimmy finally materializes in the Sprinter with her mussed hair tied into an I Dream of Jeannie pony Lisa loudly demands to know whether Kim took any SLEEPING PILLS. Kim did NOT, thank you very much. She just took a NAP, and wishes everyone would have left her to sleep because she doesn’t understand why they flew all the way to Paris to make their own dinners. I want to know why they are taking a cooking class from an American in Paris. Bloody hell!
Everyone gets off the bus except the Sisters Richards, and Kim breaks down. She’s tired, she’s sober, and she’s sick of Lisa’s comments. I love me some Lisa but sometimes she needs to dial it down one or two, I must agree. And sometimes she needs to butt out and leave well enough alone, but she’s just not going to do it in this case, returning to the Sprinter to see if she can help. “Just go away, Peppa Pig!” shouts my husband. The Glands, of all people, turns out to be the voice of empathetic insight here, cajoling Lisa into leaving the sisters alone and suggesting that Kimmy is tired of people insinuating that she’s drunk. Lisa insists she was joking and that Kimmy’s taking it all wrong, but The Glands firmly points out that none of them can understand how Kim feels and how she feels is legitimate and what Lisa intended is irrelevant. Goodness, the maturity on display today!