Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Recap – 4/7/15

Ah, Passover. That elusive holiday that’s not really all that elusive because it swings by every year sometime in April and requires my presence at my mother’s house, where she will have spent two weeks straight cooking for seventeen people who would rather be eating sushi. As a completely nonreligious Jewish person who only participates in the traditions of lighting a memorial candle on the anniversary of my father’s death and collecting presents at Hanukah, I cannot say that I was really looking forward to Passover. There’s always a ton of people and we are crammed around several tables and it’s hard to talk to anybody except for the person sitting directly next to you and we read the same story from the prayer books that we have read for years before even a single bite of dinner is served.

“Why don’t we just discuss it over soup?” I suggested once, but – as the rest of my family cannot be classified as slightly-atheist-heathens – my suggestion was met with silence and just a wee bit of derision.

This past Friday, as I took my place at the Passover table, I told myself to just keep my mouth shut except when it was my turn to read about the plagues. After all, my mother doesn’t ask for much and she really pretends to enjoy cooking for a zillion people and I owe her cooperation – or, at the very least, silence. But when I saw that lone cup filled with wine that sat untouched, waiting for the prophet Elijah to swing by to covertly take a little sip, I started to get nervous the same way I do any time I see a glass of wine now. Because if this last insufferable season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has taught me anything, it’s that wine will often be thrown for no good reason at all and I should really know better than to wear a cream colored gauze shirt that is dry clean only to a dinner where alcohol is served.

(To be fair, this season has also taught me the following: Kyle was definitely born with an extra set of tear ducts; Lisa Vanderpump is so fabulous that her stylist is clearly trying to destroy her out of pure envy and is attempting her subterfuge by encouraging Lisa to wear one hideous outfit at a time; lemons don’t cure Lyme disease, but I hope that some day soon they will; Brandi is a bag of trash; Kim has finally found the happiness she crows about during the opening credits and that must be why she is such a constant delight to be around; and Eileen and Lisa Rinna are excellent replacements for last year’s duds, Carlton the Witch and Joyce the Hair.)

But lessons I’ve learned aside, it’s time to jump back into the bullsh*t that these women either create or react to and I hope it’s not in poor taste (actually, I don’t much care if it is or it’s not) that I’m starting to hope that locusts, frogs, and vermin descend upon the House of Glanville and smite out the woman who has become pure mythological beast.

Before we can watch every person but Kim (can you imagine having only Kim as your potential savior?) once again tell Brandi that she’s the piece of sh*t that hangs onto the end of a proctologist’s glove before he is able to successfully shake it off, we get to witness Andy ask Eileen what made her include “Reality Star” on her already full resume.

“I wanted to do something different,” explains Eileen, and okay – that’s fair. But here are a few other “different” things Eileen could have done rather than fight with adult women on television for a paycheck:

• Work the cash register at Target on Black Friday
• Go to astronomy camp
• Eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s every night for a week with only a straw
• Shave her head and attempt to bring back the sombrero
• Personally check to see if Kyle still gets her period
• Come clean my closets

I get that my suggestions are not glamorous and don’t come with a camera crew, but I’ll happily aim my iPhone at her face while she discovers that I own seventeen identical black miniskirts.