Last night was the season finale of Real Housewives of Atlanta. I would say it was a little sweet and a little classy, but it wasn't. It was mostly a lotta ratchet.
See Kenya Moore threw the big end of the season party. And at Kenya's party she wants things her way – or the highway. Well, parking lot at least. Kenya decided her Atlanta "coming out" event would be an Iconic Black Women In Film gala. She assigned all the ladies of RHOA a character because there was to be some sort of performance associated with the role. The only performing I saw was a low-budget runway show in which they all waltzed up on stage did a couple hip pops and sat back down on a folding chair in the audience. Apparently that's how Krayonce defines a play though cause she was two shades of bent out of bootyshape about Porsha Stewart coming in the wrong costume.
Last night Real Housewives of Atlanta was a total filler before the finale episode, which meant it was low on drama as Bravo lets us go into withdrawal in preparation for next week!
Things begin at Kandi Burruss' housewarming party where one furious former beauty queen is storming around, causing a tornado and unleashing the twirl of death. She's knocking over plants, tossing things at unsuspecting guests, laser eyebeams seeking her next victim as everyone cowers in fear hiding behind their wine glasses. It's only Kenya Moore, but that's like saying it's only the atomic bomb.
As Walter Jackson and "date" scurry out the back door, Kenya's mane of death is twirling faster and faster and faster while she screams "SECURITY!" until Don Juan is dispatched to guide this furious storm to the safety of the parking lot. There, her only victim may be an unsuspecting Bentley – its life cut perilously short by an enraged Miss TWIRL-S-A.
Kenya rants and raves about how Walter is stalking her and ruining all her social functions by showing up to intentionally destroy her. 'Get this Bentley out of my way Don Juan because I swear I'm about to pretend it's Walter and render it impotent. Oh wait – Walter is already impotent. Didn't you know?!'
Last night on Real Housewives of Atlanta we dealt with the ghosts of fauxlationships past when Bravo the ladies did everything in their power to force a confrontation between former business partners boyfriend and girlfriend Kenya Moore and Walter Jackson. Much to my dismay, that did not happen. As a small consolation we got several delusional talking head rants from Kenya and one Kenyantrum.
Before any of that happened Porsha Stewart tried to navigate the nearly impossible task of taking a pregnancy test. EPT stands for Error Proof Test… until Porsha gets her hands on it! Girl actually thought you had to pee for two whole minutes instead of waiting 2 minutes for the results.
Porsha and Kordell poured over the instructions in panicked frustration for about an hour like it was a map to buried treasure. And Kontroll doesn't want to hire a nanny? Lord help us all… And correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Porsha pregnant before? She has definitely done the whole pee on a stick song and dance. Anyway, she's not pregnant. And poor Porsha looked really sad to realize that once again the yams had not worked. All she got for her troubles was some orange poop and one completely apathetic Kontroll. Worst. Reaction. Ever.
Last night the ladies ofReal Housewives of Atlanta took their bickering and kill'em with kindness values to Las Vegas where things got um… well things got as invasive as a gynecological exam. There were strip clubs, Bedroom Kandi parties, and a marriage intervention with Porsha Stewart because apparently being a prude is so last season, right NeNe Leakes?
Things begin with Cynthia Bailey and Kenya Moore swapping moisturizer (Kenya doesn't want to be called "ashy feet" again!) and discussing dinner the night before as they pack for Vegas. Apparently the two are now BFF… when did this happen? I mean that's fine but didn't they hate each other a few episodes ago and now all of the sudden Cynthia is the only person Kenya can trust on this show?
Anyway, Kenya doesn't feel comfortable explaining to the other women that the reason she and Walter Jackson broke up is because the whole relationship was fake to begin with and he was tired of people around town actually thinking he would wife that. Mmmm-mmmmm! Walter is not about to ring Krayonce. He is not some hillbilly Kroy Biermann who is going to get run over by the Gold Digger Express.
Last night the ladies of Real Housewives of Atlanta brought their southern notions and their southern concepts of time to LA. And apparently in LA no one is ever late.
Things begin with the ladies traveling via trains, planes, and hummer limos (but thankfully not on a platoon of Louwee VeeTAWN luggage) to NeNe Leakes' house in the Hollywood Hills. She must have rented Chateau Sheree, the LA Version because the road to get there is completely under construction and the limo driver informs them they can walk the rest of the way up.
NeNe has to drive down and get them in her SUV and the house turns out to be gorgeous. NeNe's is hosting a fabulous dinner party so she can introduce her Hollywood friends to her cast mates. She wants the ladies to arrive back at her house by 9pm sharp for a sit-down dinner, even though it's the day they landed and they have like six minutes to get ready and traverse down the hill on foot to meet their limo and schlep all across town. No one is thrilled.
Last night on Real Housewives of Atlanta the ladies ventured into unseen territory. It was truly a trip to OZ. There were sparkling pageant lights and shimmering runways, food that looked like vaginas and not food, beautiful music, and one Wicked Witch from the West stealing The Good Witch's crown and being sweet as a mid-summer Georgia peach. What was this strange world of successes and peace? Better watch out ladies, a twirl is a'comin and it might just drop a mansion right on your heads. And your little dogs too…
Things begin at The Bailey Agency. Cynthia Bailey is whirling around putting up flyers about the Miss Renaissance pageant. It's happening like now! And who should waltz through the door but a giant bottle of ketchup and mustard! Oh no, just Kenya Moore being sweet and kind and wearing a strange combination of red and yellow (or my TV is colorblind). I guess it was summery…
Kenya has her little dog with her and also a little model who has big dreams of Vogue covers and barely covers her butt crack in skintight zebra pants and a crop top. Kenya is mentoring this poor girl. I'm guessing she got the come-to-Jesus lecture about coochie cracks, which is why she wore that…
Last night on Real Housewives of Atlanta things were light on crazy and heavy on confusion, double-speak, and tiaras. The most confusing thing happening was figuring out what languagePorsha Stewartand hubby Kordell are even speaking. I mean Porsha definitely lives in a world of her own vocabulary where meanings and pronunciation are like, kinda, irrelevind – right?!
As for Kordell, he's the king so he do what he wants and decided to tackle a little problem of Housewives diplomacy. There's no use! Is Kordell an otherworldly genius or just… um… well, not?
In other antics Cynthia Bailey decided being the hostess of a pageant also made her the queen of all she sees. Lady Bailey was rocking her little rhinestone tiara all over town in the hopes some fool would take notice of her regality – which also equated with being a biatch. I'm sure Porsha would describe it as bitchgality.
So let's begin… Kordell is turning the big 4-0. Which is like the new 15 or something. To celebrate his bithday Porsha is throwing him a Harlem Renaissance themed party. Since she's also helping Cynthia with the Miss Renaissance pageant, she's busting out a pageant gown-cum-Josephine Baker collection of dresses that are perfect for the twirl and wave. She's been reviewing Kenya Moore's Miss USA footage and practicing in secret.
'Here she comes… Miss America. Oh I mean, Miss WHOOOOOOO-S-AAAAAAAA…. '
Oh good lord! So last night we visited the asylum on Real Housewives of Atlanta. Sometimes I just don't even know what to think with the level of delusion of these Housewives. It's like they live in an alternate universe – one I certainly never want to be abducted to – where sanity and decorum is reversed. Heaven help us, but at least we now know the secret of Kenya Moore's "highly coveted" booty: falsies!
So last night things begin with Kenya showing off how she gets her award winning body: the gym. Hmmm… Kenya may have had an award winning body in 1945 when she was Miss USA but um… now she has Photoshop, lipo scars, and Kim K knock-off prosthetic booty and if she thinks that's not obvious, than well… errrrr… yeah.
Kenya and her trainer workout and slam Phaedra Parks for looking less than workout video ready and then Kenya complains that Phaedra is slamming her all over town. Look, ladies – you're both guilty of same thing.
Phaedra is going the glamour route. All work and and no play makes a booty dull. She's doing a donkey booty photo shoot with a celebrity photographer. Thankfully she left her pickles at home and is instead wearing an outfit reminiscent of a pickle. Oh Phaedra – for all your so-called highbrow connections you can't find a stylist?