In this case, what happens in Vegas is aired on national television approximately six months later and boy, are we lucky it does or what. This episode was Bravo’s attempt to give us a breather after last week’s atrocity. Mission accomplished Bravo. This week offered naked men gyrating, club-dancing, room bowling, and some good old fashioned boozing. Oh, and one breakdown courtesy of Kim. Let’s get started, shall we…
Taylor meets Lisa for lunch at Villa Blanca. They’re BFFs now. Taylor tries to sort of not really explain what happened at Brandi’s party but –oop!- can’t really explain what you can’t remember now can ya. May I just say that Taylor actually looks like a normal person without any make-up on? She looks like a real person! She needs to stick with one coat of top mascara and a little foundation because the joker lipstick is really not doing her face justice. Anywhoo, Taylor ate pizza to prove to her new bestie that she eats, and told the tale of the Malibu Party as best she could tell it through the haze of white-wine-black-out. She says D.D. was volatile. She doesn’t mention starting the whole thing with her shit-talking within earshot of her subject, pretend-climbing over the rail to jump in the ocean to end the misery, crawling up and over a table screaming at the top of her lungs “It’s not fair!” (I’m not even sure what that means in this context by the way) and then verbally assaulting the limo driver for a cigarette light. Lisa believes her since she’s trying this new “blind support” shoe on for size, and then invites her to Pandy’s bachelorette party because that’s a good idea.
The next “last episode discussion” took place at Camille’s humble abode. Brandi and D.D. joined Camille out on the veranda-terrace-lawn for a glass of sauvignon blanc and a period of reflection. They agreed that Taylor needed an exorcism; well actually, Brandi said Taylor was the exorcist but then Camille slyly corrected her. Brandi darling, Winston Churchill was white and the exorcist was the good guy.
Can I just say, I would be PISSED if I were Camille and knew Taylor was saying that I put Kennedy in jeopardy. I’m going to say it one more time: NO ONE PUT A GUN TO YOUR HEAD AND FORCED YOU ONTO TELEVISION! If you don’t want people to know about it, then don’t tell people about it. If you want help, take it when it is offered. If you want to have your cake and eat it too, then you get what you get. Is that terrible of me? Please remember that my heart is made of plastic and that I’m a bitch.
Ok happy times now. Paul Nassif and Adrienne MAloof (prounounced Mah-loooof) are scheduled to appear on some daytime TV show called “The Doctors”. They’re supposed to talk about how to stay fit when super busy. Hint: It helps to be a millionaire with a personal trainer and a private chef. Paul’s like a fourth child. He can’t pack his own bag, he can’t eat himself. The two love/hate birds bicker over who’s a better driver and whether or not Adrienne should make eggs for breakfast. Then they get there, Paul eats a plate of chocolate before publicly giving advice on how to be healthy, and they are interviewed by a panel of what I can only assume to be doctors on what I now refer to as “The Most Awkward Show on Television”.
SURPRISE! It’s the morally corrupt Faye Resnick aka “Kyle’s friend/Interior Designer”. As if they hadn’t beaten that into the ground yet, Faye is helping Kyle pick out chandeliers for the White Party at Chandeliers -R- Us. Oh how they shined and shimmered and hung and it was just marvelous. So this is how the upper-echelon spends their time. We had the Event Planner Slave trying to slide in his input ever-so-carefully as not to be noticed, Faye, the friend/designer spouting off “oohs” and “ahhs” and trying to apply mathematical equations to chandeliers to make herself sound smarter, and then Kyle the host literally shouting, “BUT IT’S MY PARTY!!!” Kyle couldn’t go to Vegas with Lisa because she had to decorate for her party. Oh, and also she’s shooting for her book cover for a book she hasn’t written yet that she won’t actually be the writer of, which makes her about the sixth housewife to do that. The scene ends with Faye dropping a $750 chandelier, the ladies both cackling at such a funny little silly, then walking out of the store. How could you not love them? They’re peaches.
Oyyyyyy picking out mi dress! Ok I’ll cover this for those of you who enjoy this kind of thing. Lisa and Pandy go to some powder puff of a store to try on wedding dresses and boy, is it the sweetest or what. Pandy’s like, “Ayre you going to cry Mum?” And Mum’s like, “Norrrr why?” And then Pandy comes out in a wedding dress looking like Pandy wearing a wedding dress. The best part of this scene was Giggy getting stuck in his clothing and struggling to break free. It symbolized exactly how I was feeling at the very moment.
Pandy wanted more diamonds and roses on her dress. To me, that’s like someone wanting more salmonella on their mold. Well, it’s not that bad, that’s an exaggeration. But really, could it get any barfier? Anywhoo, we never find out if she says yes to the dress, but something tells me we’ll find out soon…
Alrighty so in retaliation for Lisa having her daughter’s bachelorette party NOT at the Palms, Adrienne decides to have Camille, Brandi, Dana and D.D. over to her bowling suite at the casino. That’s right, she’s hosting an “In your face Lisa!” weekend. The ladies arrive sans Kim Richards, who sadly pulled her whole neck muscle while moving. Is this bitch still moving?!?!?! Sweet Jebus, the woman needs a moving intervention I’m telling you, in addition to an all other things intervention of course.
Over on the opposite side of Sin City, Lisa and Taylor and a murder of twenty-five year old gigglers arrive at the enemy casino: Planet Hollywood. They settle into their perspective suites: The young women suite and the old lady suite. And then there’s Taylor’s room. She doesn’t get a suite. Did you hear that it was her birthday?
“Happy Birthday, you get the shitty room. Now let’s go celebrate someone else who isn’t you!”
Let’s talk about Kyle for a minute. Ok ok, thirty seconds. As I mentioned earlier, Kyle couldn’t go to Vegas because she had to buy chandeliers and shoot the cover of her book she hasn’t written. She wants Kim to come support her because she likes being supported, not supporting, being supported. Get that straight. So she’s calling and calling but it keeps going to Kim’s voicemail.
“Hi you’ve reached former Disney child actress star Kim Richards. Please leave your name and number but especially your number because I dropped my last phone in a bucket of vodka and lost all my contacts. Also, I don’t listen to my voicemails. Thanks, and have a Disney day.”
So Kyle gets her picture taken in an evening gown on the kitchen table….what does that remind me of…OH YEAH. Sonja Morgan’s (of the Real Housewives of New York of course) photo shoot for her toaster oven recipe book that SHE never wrote! Are you sensing a pattern?? I wonder what Kyle’s book is about…
"And then I flipped my hair. And then I did the splits. And then I rolled my eyes as hard as I could. Did I mention my husband is hot? Where's my friend Faye? The End.”
Vegas with Adrienne is nothing short of Dana’s most favorite dream come true. As the ladies dine, Dana tells us about her newest ridiculous piece of designer nonsense that makes her feel validated. As if it couldn’t get more ridiculous than $25,000 sunglasses, Dana takes her tig ol’ bitties and slaps us right in the face with a dose of the opposite of reality. That’s right folks, it’s a million dollar diamond lollypop holder necklace. For my readers who just read the blog and don’t watch the show, that is not a joke. I couldn’t even make that up, and I’m cray. Seriously you guys, is this freaking chick just on a long audition for HSN? What the hell is she doing on my TV?? What the hell is she doing in the presence of Camille-Jebus??? She has no business. I mean Brandi may be a little off-white trash, but at least she brings the drama and says funny stuff. This Dana/Pam whoeverthefuck has got to go. That doesn’t mean you’re in Faye, sit the hell down.
So the cool group goes bowling in the hotel room. Of course they all wear high heels so many balls met the gutter. They had a grand ol’ time and no drama was to be had. Oh, life is good at the Palms when you’re with a MAloof.
The other group headed out for their night on the town. Why doesn’t Pandi have her Mum help her with her wardrobe? She dresses like a fourteen year old girl, always with the blousy floral prints. It’s not flattering, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Lisa is ready and raring to go. I knew that demure act was a load of crap. They’re heading to the Chippendales Male Stripping show and Taylor can hardly keep it together, but in a good way this time. They get to go back stage to meet the dancers one on one. Lisa complains that Ken never wears his cock sock anymore (yikes, what a mental picture) and Taylor big-mouth laughs oddly which I gather is her flirting style judging by that horrible display with AJ or AT or AIF or whoever the damn singer was at Kennedy’s rodeo party.
If watching male strippers fling their junk every which way is wrong then Lisa doesn’t want to be right. And if watching male strippers fling their junk every which way is thrilling and horrific at the same time, Taylor wants to be thrilled and horrified. Pandy has her body turned full-on the opposite of her mum. Oh, you thought that you would be comfortable watching penises fly around with your mum sitting next to you Pandy?? I can’t even watch “Jerry Maguire” with my mom, Vintage Barbie, without feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin and die. Episodes of “Sex and the City”? Out of the question. Live naked men gyrating on couches to strobe lights? Definitely out of the question.
Cut to the cool group dancing at a club at THE PALMS (you’re welcome Adrienne). Brandi and Camille are getting down with their bad selves. We all know how Camille just luuuurves to shake her groove thang and now she has a partner in crime! Dana rolls around the floor, and Adrienne and D.D. look like they’re fighting off a seizure. It’s good times. There are even creepers that want to rub up on the ladies. Did you see those guys trying to weasel their way in there? You know how you’ll be dancing with your girls all in the zone (“I just wanna dance!”) and some freakin creeper will come up all “Night at the Roxbury” style and start making moves. But I think these ladies liked it, oh yes. Our favorite jilted housewives Camille and Brandi may have enjoyed that just a little.
Cut to the Chippendales party where Lisa, Taylor, and Pandy (I wonder how much $$$ Bravo paid to set that one up) had to get up on stage and compete in a lap dance competition. As if this couldn’t get more awkward. First up was Pandy who was awful, which was to be expected. Next up was Lisa who was pretty good, which was to be expected. Next up was Taylor who…please no, oh good, she didn’t do anything. Lisa was the clear winner and as a prize got to take home a Chippendale who she named Cedric #2.
Finally we have a shopping scene with the sisters of witch mountain. Kyle and Kim are in a nice store and everything seems well but then Kim begins to talk. Apparently her kids aren’t cool with Spike. It’s not his DUI that bothers them, or the fact that he’s a dinosaur, but the matter that he is kind of controlling. He tells Kim when to pack boxes and then when to unpack boxes, when to fold laundry and eat cheetoes, when not to fold laundry and eat cheetoes. So Kim’s little rugrats do not approve of the relationship. Something tells me the word “enabler” has crossed their minds once or twice. Kim sobs uncontrollably at the boutique while Kyle tries to comfort her even though she agrees with the rugrats. Not even Disney could save our little witch now.
Next week is the White Party and for some reason Kyle has to turn Taylor away at the door!! Ahhh excitement is running through my plastic little veins! Also, Kim and Brandi face off in white, AND Russell threatens to sue Camille! The drama is coming back my friends and I feel the same as Taylor does about naked men: thrilled and horrified.
Until next week…
XO,
Barbs
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