Last night on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills there was an intervention, the reveal of Ken Todd's secret life, and one incredibly boring trip to Paris which consisted of standing on a balcony in bad cocktail dresses speculating over whether or not Kim Richards was jet-lagged or relapsing.
Things begin at Kyle Richards' house where we are treated to the full scope of her sitting room. I certainly hope she isn't paying Faye Resnick for her design services because tacked onto the white walls are dead turtle shells. In other accents Kyle had American flag pillows strewn around her sectional. #Refund. Anyway, Kim loves this room. She just loves this room. Apparently in her house there is no place to sit down. She should hire Faye. Or you know, buy a couch! Craigslist, baby.
Segue: can you imagine how awesome the BH Craigslist offerings must be?
Anyway, one thing Kim isn't happy about, besides her lack of seating space, is Taylor Armstrong's behavior. After Taylor got drunk and took off with a married man whose private jet she's in love with and ditched her daughter with the nanny and Kyle, Kim is convinced Taylor has a little problem with the old Chardonnay. Something about Taylor slurring 'Keeedeeeee's with youse, Kow. I thought eye left er at ome with the burlr larm?' tipped her off to the problem.
So where do we begin with this mess of a show that is Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? It was just a blur of white noise. Splits Richards decided there hadn't been enough drama as of late so she decided to host her annual White Party. I mean screw P Diddy and Cannes, this is THE event of the season. Bust out your white swim suit cover-ups, get ready to twirl your hair round your head like a helicopter (one of these days Kyle is going to take off!), and then go threaten to sue your friends! Open bar on the left.
In other happenings,Kim Richards got a nose job. I mean, what else has she got to do? Kim's nose job – not big news in the real BH, I imagine, but in the RHOBH it's cause for celebration. And why not? Kim has never entertained anyone not even us on this show so perhaps it's time for her to do some party hosting. Isn't that what these broads do with their spare time when they're not hiring lawyers because their girlfriends talk shit about them?
So anyway, Kim's having a re-done nose party (I hope she got a ton of cards that said: 'Congratulations on your re-done nose!'). She has this sweet little coffee bar set up and she's rocking a Mrs. Roper mumu as she swans around the pool. It was all very seventies. I've noticed a lot of what Splits and Kim do is circa seventies (hello… THE White Party, y'all!).
Speaking of Splits, she shows up towing along two adorable little girls and one orangey blob in a scarecrow wig. Yeah, Faye Resnick was there, but by the blessed gods of Bravo she barely spoke and stayed mainly off camera. Perhaps they wanted to keep the party focused on decent plastic surgery.
Well if ever there was a reason to recklessly abandon tea and convert to coffee, last night's episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was it! Does tea just bring out the worst behavior in everyone – or is that wine? Or is it actually just that 3/4 of the people on this show are hideous specimens of humanity?
So Lisa Vanderpump tried to make amends last night. She took all her fancy British etiquette and tried to apply it to unscrupulous famewhores. Logic fail! She began with Splits Richards, whom Lisa had always believed to be a fun person, a friend, but underneath all Kyle's layers of caftans and hair lie a woman possessed. Possessed with the desire to be important and relevant – and most importantly famous. Enter Reality TV.
Then Lisa tried with Adrienne Maloof who was let out of the cryogenic freezer before her face fully thawed to socialize with the ladies. Adrienne's equally unappealing friend (and Kyle's Doppelganger) Faye Resnick was also hauled out for the unappetizing occasion. More on that thoughtless and repulsive decision later.
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!