I love VanderpumpRules, but there are just some plot points that don’t really add up to me. Maybe that’s just because I’m a naive purist who’s looking for way too much reality in my reality TV shows. I really do need to accept that a lot of what we get to see is not completely factual, but until then, I still have so many unanswered questions about Vanderpump Rules.
There is just so much going on with this show that drifts away from the show’s initial premise. To be honest, most of it has to deal with these restaurant workers having the funds for their shenanigans and/or the weird web of romance and friendship that everyone seems to be way too accepting of.
Today I come to tell a tale about the World’s Greatest DJ, who was persecuted and stalked, mercilessly harassed, and run out of clubs, all because the world wanted to possess his art and his talent. Naturally, I speak of James Kennedy, The White Kanye, and the rapper on the run from his tormentor Jax Taylor. Such are songs of sorrow played out on Vanderpump Rules.
Oh, last night was a doozy, filled with Ariana Madix‘s infamous sulk and the slow emancipation of Scheana Marie as she suddenly blinked into the light as it dawned on her that Stassi Schroeder‘s power and possession was an elaborate ruse. If only Katie Maloney would see such signs, but alas she’s too busy painting squiggly black lines over the sunrise of truth.
Really Vanderpump Rules has come down to a Fund-Rager and a contrived roast of Jax Taylor, which coincidentally happened while Brittany Cartwright‘s extra-crispy mama is in town? It’s so contrived. All of it. And it really frosts my lipstick.
But first, it’s Tom 1‘s party and everyone will cry if they want to, cry if they want to – you would cry too if these friends happened to you! The boys really got the birthday shafts, didn’t they – the girls got trips to Montauk and NASCAR, and they get made fun of and forced to do charity work. HA.
Well, Tom turned an indeterminate shade of 30 and celebrated not by raising awareness for himself or his attuned and wrinkle-free skin, but by inviting all of his friends to donate their easily-earned money to charity. Kristen Doute brought her crisp $20, handed it to the collection emcee and announced that now she has full-license to be bad for all eternity in exchange for this one good deed. Jax didn’t have that luck – his card was declined when he tried to give a measly $100. His karma, as always, remains, in despair.
Lala Kent may have quit Vanderpump Rules, but that doesn’t mean she’s leaving SUR behind. (I hear the fried goat cheese balls are addictive.) Lala says she was at the restaurant this weekend at the very same Kristen Doute happened to be there and that Kristen stalked and harassed her throughout dinner. Well that’s charming!
Lala claims she was there for a business dinner and Kristen started drama with her. “I went to the back area, which is a lounge area where anyone can sit, not just the workers. I go to take a table and Kristen is behind me. She is like, ‘You can’t sit there.’ So I removed myself.”
So, do we think Brittany Cartwright‘s mama is going to be successful in her quest to get Jax Taylor into a church?! If so, will the holy water turn him into liquefied jelly – or will he start speaking in tongues?! Oh wait, he already does… Yes, an exorcism must be done on Vanderpump Rules, but shockingly, Jax isn’t the one who needs it. OK, maybe he does, but not as bad as some people…
So let me tell you a little story about a Three-Headed SheBeast named KriStasstie – if that sounds like a very weird food served in an eastern European prison, or a disease you probably do not want to contract from a monkey, well, it’s not far off.
This is the story about three women who have absolutely NO IDEA how unimportant their opinions are, and their self-aggrandized delusions about their amazing friendships are, well, sad. Really sad. Thank goodness we have the ‘boyfriend stealing’ Ariana Madix, of the dewy mermaid skin and evil eye to put them in their place. And their place is out by the dumpsters at SUR. Who knows…they may even be puking in them.
On last night’s Vanderpump Rules, we learned that Stassi Schroeder‘s problems with men run deep. Like down in the beautiful, briny sea deep. She’s also being strangled in turtleneck-form by her own ill-advised hubris.
Now, I must do a disclaimer with this recap: Do not expect my usual greatness of prose mixed with pearls of wisdom, as I have the worst cold I have ever had in my human existence. And I feel like garbage. Like what Tequila Katie (minus Tom 2) may smear on Scheana Marie‘s overly-contoured face.
Can we talk about Scheana? Ho-ly does that girl need a ‘stink face’ removal procedure. Didn’t anyone warn her that her face will freeze that way if she makes a poop face immediately after getting Botox? I mean, I get it – she has a hard-earned summer body to protect, but lighten up and eat a lil’ clam. I hear Kristen Doute loves them.
Last night’s Vanderpump Rules featured dueling birthday trips – one made no attempt to be classy and the other pretended to be something they’re not.
First up, Ariana Madixgrabbed the Toms and Jax Taylor for an RV trek around Sonoma Wine Country, which ground to a halt at a NASCAR track for wieners and wienies. The wienie being Tom 1 who whined and cried – in front of Ariana’s brother no less – that Ariana doesn’t find his man bun and overall short-alls attractive enough to f–k. The poor Toms – it seems they have something in common, in that their ladies would rather do anything but them.
Get your Tom + Katie tea towels ready to clean up the muck that has become Vanderpump Rules!
Recovering from Christmas and an ultimate cookie binge, the last thing I’m in the mood for is whining from Katie Maloney and Stassi Schroeder. But, alas, I am nothing if not a consummate professional, so I have wrenched myself from the sluggish glut of a living room filled with wrapping paper (how many calories does wading through wrapping paper burn?) to complete this recap. Happy holidays! Katie just blew her life savings on $18.00 custom tea towels, and her life now consists of hatefully glaring at Tom Schwartz while folding said towels into cardboard boxes, wrapping the whole thing with twine, and mailing it. In case you were wondering wtf: that’s her wedding invite.