Last night while watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I came to an important realization. I now understand why these women never eat and how they manage to stay so thin. If every time you sat down at a dinner table a massive fight broke out wouldn't you have dinner-induced trauma and be reduced to guzzling wine instead? They probably all go home and stuff microwaved popcorn in their faces while standing over the kitchen sink and ruminating about the days before they sold their souls to Bravo. But hey – at least those size 2s fit!
Yesterday's episode was more of the same. Same arguments, same players, same storyline, same snarky recapper wanting to hurl things at the screen. It started out OK, as it always seems to, but then quickly degenerated into the congealed, fetid remains of last night's dinner. Even Yolanda Foster was reduced to drinking tequila.
Most of the girls were in Vegas watching in awe as Brandi Glanville's legs twined around a stripper pole and slid gracefully to the floor. "Welcome to Night School For Girls!" she announced popping up with 3/4 of her boob also popping out. Splits Richards makes an important mental note to have Mauricio hypnotized into thinking Brandi is a revolting, wretched, shit-stirring drama queen again. He must not fall under her spell!
Last night marked a lot of positives for Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. One those being that there was absolutely no Taylor Armstrong drunken drama to report. And the ladies went to Las Vegas and GOT. ALONG! *gasp* Of course, being that this is Bravo and they like to traumatize and put us through undue emotional strain, there were also some drawbacks. Namely she whose face melts like a crayon left in the sun. Versions 1 & 2!
Things begin with Yolanda Foster, her fridge, her lemonpalooza, and her Hermes belt hosting an anti-aging conference. Yolanda explains that scary plastic surgery zombies who pump their faces full of toxins need to accept that aging is natural and that moving one's face is too. I think we just discovered why Yolanda doesn't like Adrienne Maloof or Faye Resnick – she doesn't agree with their "grooming" habits or the fact that even while crying, screaming, and attempting to smile their faces look like blobs of dough with eye and nose holes.
Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I do not believe Mrs. Foster4.0 is immune to the needle of 'tox. That forehead is awfully smooth for a woman of her age. I don't believe lemons are solely responsible for her refined pores. Do you?
Last night the ladies of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills continued arguing, battling, passive-aggressively sniping, and being fake to each other. They all need some hobbies.
Things begin back in the Moroccan restaurant of horrors. If you can imagine things got even more atrocious. As if Mauricio Umansky whining and shrieking at Brandi Glanville wasn't bad enough, then Taylor Armstrong started with the drunk histrionics.
I think Camille Grammer said it best: "Taylor, nobody cares. We've already heard your story." This time Taylor's drunken syrupy gaze blurriedly turned towards Yolanda Foster who is apparently a bad, bad, bad person because she's married to a rich man and doesn't act like an ass every single minute. Maybe Taylor should do master cleanse. It can't hurt and it's probably better than the wine cleanse she's been doing for the past couple years.
Taylor makes some threats about how she knows what really goes on with David Foster as one her "best friends for twenty years" was married to him. She's referring to Linda Thompson. And if you recall when Taylor arrived at Yolanda and David's home the man married to one of her best friends for a zillion years had no idea who she was. It wasn't all wine and roses then either, was it Taylor. Well it was all wine…
Last night's episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is brought you by Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors." And it also confirmed two things I've long suspected: 1) Househusbands are like fleas when it comes to the series; unwelcome guests that just annoy the hell out of us and should stay home (I'm looking at you, Mauricio "Maurice" Umansky) and 2) One should never, ever, ever attend a party thrown by SplitsRichards. Lets just all stick to parties at Yolanda Foster's from now on. I mean, Babs might attend!
Things begin with Scheana Marie Famewhore putting on her best "I feel so sad and ashamed" face that she's been practicing in the mirror for weeks in anticipation of her big ol' TV debut. Unfortunately Scheana feels about as bad about squashing Brandi Glanville's marriage as she did squashing the spider she found in her bathroom last week.
Brandi, on the other hand, is still totally not over Douche King Eddie Cibrian and she narrows her eyes looks right at Scheana and hisses that he's probably cheating on ol' crazy noodles LeAnn Rimes right now. Scheana's eyes get wide, she starts to look nervous, and then Brandi – all 35 feet of her – stands up, looks down at her and breezes out. Scheana does a quick vital signs assessment, realizes she's in one piece, and then runs out as fast as her shaky legs can carry her.
Brandi breezes into the Office de Vanderpump for a counseling session and a glass of much needed rosé. I need rosé on tap too. Lisa Vanderpump – hook a girl up!
Let's discuss the crafty editors on last night's episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. So there they were with a whole huge storyline about how skanky Scheana Marie Famewhore pretended she had never heard of nor seen Eddie Cibrian before and participated in a two-year-long affair with him not knowing he was married to Brandi Glanville. I mean Eddie was unemployed, but karma is a bitch because he eventually left both Scheana and Brandi for LeAnn Rimes. And I would say Eddie lost on that gamble!
Other things happened last night. Bravo introduced us toTaylor Armstrong's boyfriend John Bluher. Way back in the day Taylor was telling us John was her pro-bono attorney on the $1.5M lawsuit she was battling against MMRGlobal. They were also "just friends." Friends with benefits, also known as an affiar. And then he just popped up on the screen attending a couple's night with Taylor, Kyle Richards, and Lisa Vanderpump. Wasn't that a coincidence. Sometimes – just sometimes – the Bravo editors don't do us injustice. Hey, it's once in a blue moon!
Things begin withFaye Resnick trying her darndest to become relevant. Yeah, we still don't like you – go away. Faye's face is like melted, globbed together wax. It's clear that with the friendship she shares with Adrienne Maloof, they also share a plastic surgeon. Karma is a bitch like that, I s'pose!
So what was going on last night, Bravo? A word of advice: If you can't air the storyline, then, you know don't air the story. But I suppose that would mean forgoing some major drama and they can't have that, can they?
Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has made a case for going where no show goes before into the gory, depraved, salacious, and libelous department. And last night was no exception.
Before we get to the good stuff let's discuss Splits Richards trying to show off that she's the new rich biatch in town. She's giving her 16-year-old, the one who couldn't parallel part last week, a brand new Mercedes coupe. That's the perfect first car to total, amirite! It's apparently because Mauricio is now raking in the dough big time with his new real estate agency.
Personally, I'm really over the daughter driving story. I mean who is she – a Kardashian? Furthermore, those shorts are too short for a 16-year-old. I guess she's also taking fashion advice from Aunt Paris.
Last night on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills the ladies got wild and out in Ojai. I have to say last night was one of the most fun episodes ever and it makes you think if they all got their panties out of a wad, relaxed, and spoke to each other like normal people instead of obsessing over petty drama they'd all get along and be fun. But alas, that would be too easy and far too mature.
Things begin with the girls still in Ojai where Brandi Glanville has just dropped the eff-bomb at Buckingham Palace in front of Queen Elizabeth and her corgis. Oh, wait – no she didn't. She just said it to Adrienne Maloof, but the way these ninnies were acting you'd think this was the most official, classy, elegant prestigious dinner in all the world. I don't know why they were all getting up on their high horses acting like they've never said F-U before when we all know they use it. Right, Splits Richards?
Anyway, Brandi and Kim Richards were doing a big Ojai love-in and pouring their hearts out when Adrienne gets on the intercom with her whiny, donkey voice to announce that someone is crying in Aisle 5 and clean-up is required. Repeat, someone – ahem KIM – is crying!
So Brandi was forced to tell Adrienne to eff off and everyones' heads snapped around like Adrienne just announced that someone was peeing on a Chanel bag. Their mouths dropped, and they glared at Brandi as if she was pee culprit desecrating the holy statue.
First of all let me apologize for this beast being so late, but good things come to those who wait, right? Last night on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, boy did we witness some groveling. It was down in the dirt, on your knees, begging kind of groveling as Queen Lisa Vanderpump barely acknowledged her subject's pleas for redemption.
I should say last night's episode was a study in relationship building and friendship, but also in status. New alliances were drawn, and enemy lines began to be sorted out. Also, the ladies took a trip to Ojai where apparently magic happens. But no amount of magic can make these girls behave in public.
Things begin with two ladies afflicted by a curse of over botoxing and an unfortunate affinity for ugly blouses facing off in a quaint little restaurant. One lady, a benevolent but stern queen, and the other a marginally disgraced princess who is quivering and anxious with anticipation. Yes, Adrienne Maloof has realized she made enemies with the wrong lady, because while Lisa can be sweet as rosé, she will cut a bitch faster than she'll discard a wilting rose.