Sometimes I’m so entertained by The Real Housewives of Orange County that I like to pretend somebody actually scripted the entire show. This is what the treatment for last night’s episode would look like:
It was the final “butt ow-oot” TAMRA was going to take from ALEXIS; she could no longer stand ALEXIS’s confused dialect. So in true Housewives fashion, ALEXIS is forced to leave the dinner party and wait in Housewives purgatory (AKA the limo in the parking lot). Semisonic once said it best with: “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
With ALEXIS banished, the council of Housewives inside the soon-to-be hideous Cut Fitness studio came to session like a United Nations of rich white people with fake boobs. “Here, here! Order in the court!” HEATHER cried. She had once played a judge in a softcore porn and felt the skills leant quite nicely to facilitating the discussion.
The council bickered over whether or not VICKI was culpable for ruining TAMRA’s dinner. While the answer is no–the dinner was doomed for distaster from the moment TAMRA’s party planner plugged in the red mood lighting–GRETCHEN argues that VICKI certainly is guilty, while VICKI argues that BROOKS is a good, good, good man.
VICKI and LYDIA leave the dinner party to console ALEXIS in housewives jail. There’s more talk about what constitutes bullying and what’s not bullying and how ALEXIS went on Xanax following the Costa Rica incident. What the ladies don’t realize is that creeping in the shadows is TAMRA eavesdroping the whole conversation. She then reports back to the council. “Xanax?! Ha! We’re all on Xanax, who cares?!” shouts all the Housewives’ inner dialogue. VICKI, LYDIA, and ALEXIS take off, and TAMRA and her posse “BLESS THIS FUCKING BUILDING.”
If there’s anything that the Housewives have taught us it’s that once you hit—or think you’ve hit–a certain tax bracket, you have to believe in psychics and pay them to come to your parties. VICKI said it best with: “The whole thing is just weird and embarrassing.”
And now, please welcome VICKI GUNVALSON in her one woman show, The Gunverson Show! (get it?)
“Alone. An island. Broken. Tamra. Where are all my people? Her soul cried. We replied, we’re over here. Together. Continent. Incontinence. Insurance. Buy mine.”
Back to the episode.
Finally, the party is over. We’re back at VICKI’s with a sick baby and a tired BRIANA. We learn that VICKI bought both of her wedding rings, and while comparing her friends to her family, she realizes she needs to put TAMRA on probation and omg that pizza looked so good why are they just kind of eating the salad??? BRIANA sums up the scene best with: “Am I touching your boob or your arm?” Perhaps that’s the question we should’ve been asking ourselves this whole time.
Across town, we learn that EDDIE doesn’t always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers Dos Equis. After a sip of the most interesting drink, he pisses TAMRA off by telling her to plan the wedding herself or wait for when he’s done learning Adobe Creative Suite because he’s working on this new business card design and it’s super dope!
Speaking of confused, we return to ALEXIS all dressed up like a tranny flapper. She’s just sent BAZ LUHRMANN her audition tape for DAISY BUCHANAN. What she doesn’t know is that when JIM goes off to his “home office” to “work” he’s actually just coming up with ideas to keep his poor wife busy ever since he sabotaged the only two freedoms she had: Fox 5 and the worst dress line that ever existed–come to think of it, maybe we should praise JIM for the demise of that.
And now some Midwestern realness! Wow, VICKI’s family seems so different from my family in that they wear their drinking on their sleeves. Boy, that clan is ready to party, especially KYLE, VICKI’s ginger nephew. Forget EDDIE, sit down with KYLE to learn a thing or two about Rico Suaveness. I bet he knows how to download an illegal free Photoshop or two.
As KYLE sneaks some vodka into his Sprite while his grandma’s back is turned we learn that you DO NOT FUCK WITH A MARINE WHO DOESN’T LIKE CREEPY GOLDDIGGERS FROM MISSISSIPPI. Alas, no, I’m not surprised that BROOKS wants to get it on with some hookers. What DOES surprise me is that there are hookers so close to where VICKI lives.
Jeez these people are crazy. VICKI wraps it up best with: “I don’t know the address where Michael lives, and I never will.”
MICHAEL is her son.