Last night’s Real Housewives Of Orange County Secrets Revealed centered around their two favorite topics: Brooks Ayers and Butts! (Thankfully not together! Unless you’re counting discussion about what an ass Brooks is).
Before we get to the assery of Brooks (and later Terry) we must first confront the assery of David. Did you know – he had an affair! During the last reunion Shannon Beador pretended her marriage was amazing and wonderful and more perfect than ever. Except, haha – 3 weeks prior she had learned David was cheating, then he left her, then he came home with his
dick tail between his legs, and then he whisked her away on a 17-day romantic vacation. So she wasn’t lying! Sadly when the cameras started rolling again, “reality” set-in.
Really – honestly – I don’t care what’s happening with Shannon, her vagina, her affair, her husband, her colon, her rectum, because her voice is sounding more like my 90-year-old great aunt’s by the day and that’s scary.
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More interesting is that collectively the Real Housewives Of Orange County fear potatoes above all else. More than grifters with a Daily Affirmations Calendar. More than Botox being banned by the FDA. Shannon caused OC-wide anguish when she was observed consuming a potato stew. It’s not Shannon’s fault, you understand, David is from the Midwest!
Heather Dubrow considers the potato kryptonite – like she can no more get near a potato than she can a Target. Tamra Judge hasn’t eaten a potato in “10 years” – the potato is to Tamra’s body what Satan is to Jesus. (How many SAT points is that worth Meghan King Edmonds?).
Shannon consumes her weight in vodka daily, but apparently the women of the RHOC are ignorant to the fact that vodka is made from POTATOES.
Also Heather told Tamra she has the hottest ass in Southern California – thems’ fighting’ words and Kim Kardashian be coming for you Tam-Tam. CUT A Bitch Fitness better be ready to defend that title.
While Shannon will not relinquish the potato, she has given up meat (not David’s – are you hearing this MADAME AFFAIR). Shannon hosts a luncheon with a trick: all the food is “plant-based” (that’s Shi-Shi-Shi speak for “vegetarian”), yet disguised to look like meat! Oh Shannon, you rascal!
While perched on Shannon’s Upscale Golden Girls-style living room sofas, gingerly munching mini tacos, Heather announces that her personal messiah, Gwyneth Paltrow, gets her vagina steamed. Naturally Heather then visited the coochie dry cleaners.
However, Heather one-upped Goopy (probably the proudest and most gleeful day of her human existence) by dragging Terry along to get his butt-hole steamed. And Heather took a picture. Tamra wants to see – she’s a little too eager actually.
Yes, Miss Priss And Boots took a photo of her husband getting his butt-hole steamed. Please don’t tell me we have a leaked steam tape situation on our hands. #TheNewDirty (I kid!).
Is Heather going to make Terry’s butt-hole the family holiday card? The Dubrow’s Year In Review: We took cleaning to a whole new level! Proof of our efforts is revealed in Terry’s hemorrhoid-free rectum. While it may resemble an onion ring, we can assure you we do not allow those! Or potatoes.
Vicki Gunvalson is confused – she doesn’t see steamed clams on Shannon’s buffet. When she realizes Heather means va-jay-jay, she declares, “My vagina is perfect.” Yeeeeaaah – Vicki probably needs a Love Tank steaming after Brooks. A little vajuvenation to get all the bad juju out and start fresh!
Speaking of, Vicki wants some of Shannon’s plant-based recipes for He Who Shall Not Be Famed By Mentioning His Name because he’s “wasting away.” Everyone gushes about how good Brooks has been looking lately with all that non-chemo juicing and reservatrol which contains the secret to immortality or something.
Yet Vicki claims Brooks is suffering from night sweats and hot flashes. Which are typical of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma (and menopause!). Just Google it, advises Vicki! And one person took that advice literally: Meghan King Edmonds. Google she did.
It’s interesting to observe early in the season when everyone was sympathetic. They all tut-tutted about Brooks, inquired about his health, and discussed how he needed to get an IV post chemo. No one looked doubtful. Maybe they were distracted by the dehydrated carrot on their plates reminding them of Terry’s butt-hole?
By the reunion, obviously, no one is feeling too sympathetic. There are so many stories, so, so many versions of what Vicki did, knew, when and with whom, and why. Suffice to say, one of these things is not like the other: cancer, meds, chemo, nausea, prescriptions, IVs, Brooks, scans, hospitals, oncologists…
Shannon reminds Vicki of one such instance where they were at a party, but Vicki left early. She possibly went to a hospital where Brooks got two IVs, as she told Tamra. Or she possibly went to Andales where she whooped it up dancing on the bar. It’s all a blur!
For instance, what became of the binder Vicki purportedly made Brooks, which Heather deduced to mean Vicki was “in charge” of Brooks’ health. Quite the opposite. Vicki actually went to Target, where she bought a binder and some tabs that she lovingly labeled with inspirational quotes written in sparkly pen, along with photos of Vicki and Brooks in happier times. She made tabs for documents, appointments, medications, gave it to Brooks, but then never saw the binder again! The Curious Case Of The Disappearing Binder – Meghan are you on it?!
We’re living in Brooks‘ delusional world, and Vicki’s a delusional girl.
Vicki insists she created the binder but didn’t fill it – Brooks put the paperwork in himself. Vicki never even saw paperwork, or prescription bottles (Brooks always put his pills in pill containers), or chemo, and she only went to one doctor’s appointment. The so-called Dr. Cellulite, or “noncologist” as Heather keeps referring to him. Stop trying to make that word happen, Fetch.
Vicki asked that doctor about Brooks‘ medical records and was told the doctor had them. Andy asks, incredulously, so you never saw paperwork about The Cancer? Somewhere Amber Marchese is on the phone with her lawyer – coincidentally also her husband Jim – suing for copyright infringement over use of The Cancer. (I kid!!).
Heather is incensed that Vicki told Tamra about getting cellulite treatment because that’s a violation of HIPPA, especially since Vicki wouldn’t let anyone know all the details about Brooks‘ cancer. Vicki maintains Brooks was the secretive one, not her, reminding the women they talked about Brooks health all season. Ad nauseam. AAAAADDDD NAUSEAM.
Briana believes Vicki has Stockholm Syndrome. She tells a story of Brooks threatening Vicki claiming he was at a hospital and she was abandoning him to go eat dinner. Briana offered to take Vicki to the hospital, but all the sudden Brooks refused to let Vicki come! Briana shares that Brooks stalked Vicki for years before meeting her. From watching the show he knew all about Vicki’s empty love tank and how to fill it with affirmations found in after-market Hallmark cards. I bet he has a storage unit full of them – along with fake cancer docs and porn. And resveratrol. And juicers.
I had always thought Brooks was in the insurance business and met Vicki at an insurance conference? Did he fake selling insurance too?!
According to Tamra, all of Brooks‘ stories are “hinky” which may just be the perfect word to describe this season: hinky cancer, hinky Jesus, hinky doctors, hinky faces, hinky friendships, hinky marriages…
Heather is disappointed she was duped – Tamra had been warning everyone that Brooks was a lying, sleazy grifter using Vicki for fame and money, but Heather gave him the benefit of the doubt. Tamra gloats under her halo of Jesus-y do-gooding that someone finally praised her for the saint she is.
Tamra is well-aware that a friendship with Heather can open a lot of doors for her. Which is why it’s time to go door knob shopping for the 70 doors and 4,000 or so cabinets in Heather’s new mansion. Heather swears she doesn’t care about money or status, and never discusses such trivial material matters amid her friends (because they’re all rich), in fact Heather hates shopping. LIAR FACE.
At the doorknob store Heather browses a collection that ironically looks like what’s at Home Depot, however with 1000% mark-ups. Tamra mentally tries to the do the math about how many facelifts it takes to pay for all those knobs, but that’s more of a Meghan department. #SMARTS
Honestly – $2,000 doorknob shopping? Even appliances would be more exciting.
Vicki has dinner with Michael, Billy, and Brooks. Vicki, basking in the attention of all her boys, is confused by double entendres about bearded clams and shocked to learn Michael doesn’t want kids. Additionally Michael threatens to put her stuff on eBay once she dies –
better hope Brooks doesn’t get to it first! All-in-all it was a nice scene and one of the few that featured Vicki in a positive light.
Afterwards we get some footage of Moorea with an extremely hungover Shannon and Vicki are forced to drive around in go-kart-thingies. Vicki is so sick she almost barfs in Shannon’s sun hat. I’d puke in Shannon’s hat too. Karma for subjecting us to her colonic crap Pun Intended!
The footage from Moorea made me sad – I had forgotten how fun this show can be and I’m bitter that the storyline took such a toxic and unwieldy turn (much like Shanon’s driving) to become all about Brooks. Well and butts.
Next Shannon and Tamra go buy butt plugs and sex swings for Tamra’s party. Tamra discovers blow job Pop Rocks. The employee explains they’re flavored like candy, so it’s a treat for both partners. I think the ladies of RHOC have just found a way to have their cake and eat it too!
On the other side of Orange County, stepping out of a limo, while swinging champs and a black card, and expecting employees to come rushing to her side proffering the most elite of diamond-studded, platinum vibrators is Heather. She dragged Meghan along as her little sidekick – to carry the bags.
When Heather visits a porn store it is not like us mere mortals. Among her arsenal of necessities: Champs (in vintage Baccrat flutes), Black Card, Chanel-scented hand sanitizer, vial of holy water – which is actually diamond dust mixed with champs and Chanel – holier than thou attitude, PTSD therapy, a demeaning attitude, sex shop sycophants and a haughty laugh.
Heather casually drops $855, ostensibly on “gifts” for Tamra’s sex party. Heather even has them gift wrapped, then beseeches Meghan to carry it to the limo. Heather levitates there on a champagne cloud. Why do I feel like we should check Tamra’s eBay listings to see where some of those gifts ended up, because one woman’s $855.00 is another woman’s $.85.
The episode ends with Heather dragging Meghan to advertise Terry’s practice by getting Botox. Even though Meghan is afraid of needles. And 30. For this momentous grown-up super-duper adult married person activity, Meghan is wearing a shirt with attached-bib.
Meghan squeezes Heather’s hand so tightly, Heather’s diamond could have been injured. Heather and Terry force Meghan to pose for a post-Botox selfie with Terry holding the needle ominously close to her face.
While Meghan tries to secretly wipe away her tears, Heather taps her forehead, motioning for Terry to do a quick Botox touch-up. Heather doesn’t even bleed – because she’s not made of human stuffs. She sweeps out of the office, leaving Meghan red-faced, puffy, and dejectedly to wiping her face. “I’m the most superficial person alive,” she notes. No irony.
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[Photo Credits: Bravo]