Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Recap – 4/19/16

April 20th, 2016 | No Comments | Posted in Uncategorized

Remember that scene in Poltergeist when the technician whose job it was to photograph the gazillions of ghosts living and thriving inside the little blonde girl’s closet decided to go into the kitchen late at night to cook himself a steak? Remember how that steak became infested with ravenous maggots that burst forth from the center of the slab of red meat and the way your pre-teen stomach began to topple and turn as you watched that thing crawl across the white Formica countertop? Can you also recall what happened next, when the guy went into the bathroom and began pulling the skin off his face in gigantic hunks of blood and tendons until all we saw was a grotesque vision of bone and hollowed-out eye sockets and the sink below him was filled with heaping shreds of plasma-covered muscle? Yeah, I’d rather watch that scene every single night on a loop and use the sound effects from the sequence as I walk down the aisle on my wedding day than ever f*cking hear the word “Munchausen” ever again.

And while we’re on the topic of DREADFULTHINGS I’D RATHER EXPERIENCE INSTEAD OF PART ONE OF THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS REUNION, let’s take a gander at what would unquestionably bring me more joy than watching grown and wealthy women argue about an incident that might not have even transpired and, if it did happen, it transpired off-camera and thus can never be proven and doesn’t even sound particularly interesting or incriminating in the first place:

• I’d rather watch the last five minutes of every episode of Full House – you know, the portion where the studio scoring magically sets in like an orchestra lives in the ceiling and every mishap under the yellow sun is solved by an adult talking solemnly to a child in a bedroom – and then time how long it takes me to create a noose out of some cable wires.
• I’d rather be present for the birth of my ex-boyfriend’s child, if only so I can declare, “She looks just like me!” at the very moment the baby is yanked free from his wife’s stretched-out vagina.
• I’d rather go back in time and once again attend the very first concert I ever saw, which means someone had better pull Tiffany out of retirement today because I’d like to hear I Think We’re Alone Now and I’d like to hear it immediately and I kind of insist that she do all the hand gestures she did in the video.
• I’d rather read and highlight all of the emails in my spam folder about the benefits of Viagra (I think I’m listed on some mailing list as “Neil” and someone out there thinks Neil’s got a limp c*ck) and then purchase some of that Viagra, as well as a bottle of the magical moisturizer Cindy Crawford pushes on television in the dead of night, the one that exists all because of some phenomenal super-melon. I also rather go out and farm those f*cking cantaloupes myself in a field where there’s no shade.
• I’d rather do CrossFit.

Yes, my dear and fellow survivors of a season of complete bullsh*t, I am really not looking forward to watching these women sit in uncomfortable cocktail dresses on opposing sofas and fight for the next three hours, especially when the fights don’t matter or make any sense. I mean, just so I’m clear, I think the main fight is about whether or not Lisa Vanderpump used her Swami Priestess prowess to command Lisa Rinna’s ginormous lips to form the three syllables that make up “Munchausen” and then attempt to deny any wrongdoing, right? Seriously: we’ve arrived at the f*cking reunion and I still have no idea what these people are even brawling about anymore. But I’m pretty sure that Lisa Rinna wants Lisa Vanderpump to rise to a standing position, apologize in song (preferably one that rhymes) for being the Commander of All Things Evil, and then create enough of a flow of tears – even if she’s gotta stab herself in the inner thigh with some tweezers to do it – so one of her false eyelashes comes off in her hand because the only thing that will appease Lisa Rinna at this point is actually watching Lisa Vanderpump fall apart piece by piece. And she will wait. She’s got time, Lisa Rinna does! That pilot for a talk show headed by a crazy person who only has access to D-list friends is not being picked up any time soon! I asked Vince, Eileen’s favorite gambler, to run some stats for me and he has indicated that the over-under of Lisa Rinna becoming the next Oprah – or even the next Carnie Wilson – is slim to none. He also encouraged me to start betting a third of my salary on Women’s Soccer, but I hung tough and slipped him both the number for a Gambler’s Anonymous hotline and a rusty shiv that he can use to dig his way out of the Rosemary’s Baby-style home he lives in with a soap actress who is either slowly descending into absolute madness or has somehow allowed herself to believe that being on The Real Housewives might nicely serve as an extended audition tape for the remake of Repulsion that one of the voices screaming inside of her head told her was a go-project at the same studio that made the film where she portrayed an alien in a unitard.

Speaking of glorious ensembles, it’s time to take a look at what our Housewives are wearing to rip one another to pieces until each is just a bloody carcass with cleavage. It’s also maybe time for some of them to fire their stylists. Done up in sparkly gold and more hair than is currently on the walls of all of our showers combined is Erika, who looks like Barbie after a long night of patting her puss. Kyle brought her t*ts as her plus-2 to the reunion so she has something to talk to just in case the rest of the group shuns her. Being that I’d rather have full conversations with my own t*ts than ever speak a single word to some of these hallucinating monsters, I think Kyle made an excellent choice. Lisa Vanderpump always disappoints me with her reunion outfit, a sentence that pains me to type because I usually find her flawless. Tonight she’s wearing a dress that looks like one of her famous friends melted down an Oscar and poured it all over her. Her hair looks fabulous, though. Yolanda is wearing makeup and she looks healthy. That said, she’s also clad in that illusion fabric only ice skaters should wear – and even then it should only happen at the Olympics. Kathryn manages to look dull in a vibrant shade of green while Eileen went with a bold red strapless number that’s kind of pretty and that’s maybe the last lovely thing I’ll say about her unless she spontaneously begins to act normally. And I love the blush color Lisa Rinna is wearing and the neckline is incredibly flattering. However, while I have no desire to shame anyone for her weight in much the way Lisa’s been frantically doing all over Twitter (I don’t follow her, but I hear things!), I will say that she’s unbelievably thin and when she stands sideways, she all but disappears. Any way we can request that she can stand sideways for the entire reunion?

Andy begins by greeting them all individually in a manner that always strikes me as weirdly smarmy, but I found it very hard to concentrate while he leered, “Hi, Erika.” See, my mood, which had gleefully experienced a major upswing when the commercials for this reunion showed all the women in wide shot that did not include Brandi Glanville or Kim Richards, turned dark during the coming attractions that began the episode and the tear of pure gratitude that actually slid down my cheek because of the absence of these dipshits dried like Magic Shell right on my face. Look, I get it. There’s three hours of this bullsh*t to fill and they can’t (oh, God – they just can’t) talk about Munchausen’s the entire time. Maybe that’s why Brandi, looking pumped full of generic Restylane, appeared like a smelly fungus that keeps coming back. Kim’s showing up at some point, too. Sure, those of us blessed with common f*cking sense can shake our heads with disgust that this cruel idiot continues to discuss her mishaps on television while maintaining how badly she wants her privacy, but I’m sure she was provided a decent paycheck to sit on that couch and she needs the money. Girlfriend’s got movers to pay.

We start immediately will viewer questions so Andy can ease them in gently into what’s bound to eventually become a nihilistic travesty of epic proportions. The first inquiries are silly: What if the miniature pony had pooped on the private jet? How dare Kathryn insult Eileen’s cheap purses? And are those hideous rose gold sunglasses still being carried at Kyle’s hideous store? The answers to all of these questions do not matter. The only thing they’re really meant to do is provide a warm-up exercise to get the ladies talking. Squats or Kegel exercises would have done the trick, too. And now that the easy stuff is out of the way, it’s time to dive into Erika, a woman who is a timid housewife by day, a terrible singer by night, and a self-proclaimed enigma because one of her paid friends called her that one day and she thought the word sounded expensive. Looking back at the montage of Erika’s first season, I’m struck by how perfect she is for this show. Her marriage is a minefield of cautionary tales come to life and her sound bites during interviews are just bitchy and astute enough for me to hope she one day walks away with a huge divorce settlement. The willingness she has to pretend Erika Jayne is both real and loaded with talent is nothing short of hilarious, but her commitment to this fallacy is pretty impressive. I have no doubt she’ll be back next season and that she’ll hate Lisa Vanderpump more with and more with every day that passes and the feeling might be mutual, especially after Andy points out that Lisa’s reunion dress is a replica of Erika’s interview outfit. I’d blame Tom Ford for this, but as he is the single most dashing man currently roaming the planet, I’ll just blame Lisa Rinna instead since I plan to blame her for everything anyway from this point forward.

By the way, here’s a fun game maybe we should all play: take a shot every time Lisa Vanderpump says something during this reunion that makes the other women smirk or lean in to touch one another in a move that screams, “That f*cking bitch! Get her!” I fully expect to be comatose by the end of the second hour so I hope someone will inform me about whether or not Andy’s twenty-five year old plaything makes an appearance.

As for how the other people in her life feel about her, Erika lets us know many were initially suspicious as to why a young woman wanted to marry a rich old man. Those people are just judgmental assh*les! Tom seems like a lovely guy – and he even allows her to speak sometimes! Meanwhile, her fellow Housewives have absolutely no problem with the fact that she schlepped her glam squad to the faraway desert because they’re all a little bit afraid of Erika and besides, she’s not Lisa Vanderpump who they would have clobbered with a huge boulder in the town square had she had the audacity to bring a makeup artist anywhere near Dubai.

“You seem submissive to your husband,” Andy muses to Erika in perhaps the biggest understatement of the season. No, explains Erika, she’s not submissive to her husband/father. She is respectful because the man works hard and he bought her a plane and all of that extra hair and she can deal with being grounded or told to shut her mouth every so often if it means she can thrive in a mansion with enough bedrooms that she never has to see the guy unless it’s to ask for her allowance. Hey, we all make choices in life and I actually have no problem with the ones Erika’s made. Let her live and prosper – and let her turn her considerable quiet bitchiness on Lisa Rinna next season and stop by Faye Resnick’s house on the way home and piss on her front lawn.

Leave a Reply