Growing up is sooooo hard to do. Especially when you're a 32-year-old male model perfecting the dilettante lifestyle. Such is the case of Jax Taylor, who everyday listens to Rod Stewart's anthem "Forever Young" on his iPod while slicing lime twists for the perfect cocktail. But alas fair Jax – everyone has a moment when they wake up Maggie Mae.
Worst of all is that Jax let his people down. His followers, ready to decamp in the jungle without their eyeliner for him, were crestfallen.
In the tangled web of Vanderpump Rules, Jax is trying to rekindle his relationship with Stassi Schroeder and to do that he's taking their dog shopping. Stassi wants all remnants of that flea Laura-Leigh exterminated. Over talk of new leashes, Stassi then turns her laser devil eyes on Jax and he is forced to beg and plead with her not to exterminate him as well.
Stassi and Jax, the endless tale of emotional f**kwittism. Is buying a new dog accessory some sort of break-up rite of passage now?
Oh good lord with this show. I really think the cast of Vanderpump Rules should just bottle their tears and sell them as a cocktail at SUR. I mean someone is always crying! In every scene: sob, sob, sob, sob… If Diamond Water can become a thing, Teary Vodka can.
So last night Jax Taylor proved that he is just as self-absorbed as Stassi Schroeder (what did we expect from a male model!) when he dumped rebound girlfriend Laura-Leigh of the Minnie Mouse helium voice and meth addiction after her AA meeting. Yep, that happened – although he told her they could keep having sex.
And in the same episode Stassi showed why she has no friends and is always getting shizzed upon by boyfriends; because she treats people like CRAP! And we all know you treat people how you expect to be treated. Stassi, Princess of Low Self-Esteem. She wears transparent well, doesn't she?
Somebody needs to revoke Jax Taylor's Food Handler's card because our pretty male model made a serious faux pas on last night's Vanderpump Rules with ladylove of the minute Laura Leigh!
Everyone's favorite little reincarnated Minnie Mouse whose voice floats and squeaks with aplomb christened SUR with Jax in a little late-night bathroom hooking up. ON THE FLOOR. Of the VIP bathroom. According to the security guard, he walked in and saw Jax and Laura Leigh trousers down, getting busy. He promptly phoned Ken, who promptly called a PR meeting where he informed the flabbergasted Lisa Vanderpump about extracurricular activities in the workplace. Oh dear – what. a. mess. Literally and figuratively.
I have two things to say about this: 1) Does LL seriously want to be thought of as the gross desperate girl who gets busy on a public restroom floor? Even Britney Spears isn't that dirty.
2) Did Lisa seriously let that get featured on television? Image problem is right! And apparently this is a bit of a trend with LL because the next night she and Jax are out to dinner and they slip into the employee bathroom to reenact their magical moment. Where are the police with public indecency citations when we need them?
Last night on Vanderpump Rules we were treated to Stassi Schroeder's deployment of a new identity and further examples of her meteoritic dissension into crazy fameho of monstrous (monster being the operative word!) proportions.
Apparently no one at Sur ever leaves Sur. It's a vortex of incest or something and I am deeply concerned for the safety of their public restrooms. I would advise our poor Lisa Vanderpump to make STD tests mandatory among the staff. It is a matter of public health. Call the CDC, peeps! And get these souls on match.com – they need to date in the outside world!
So Stassi has left Jax Taylor for Frank. And Jax has a sit-down at the Barbie mansion-come-to-life known as Lisa's house to piteously cry about his egregious behavior in Vegas. For shame, these waxed and buffed specimens parading as menz took their shirts off and pretended to fight. That fighting was reminiscent of a New Kids On The Block video! And Jax still loooorves dear Stassi Staph Infection, but knows he must release her into the wilds.
Last night on Vanderpump Rules the battle for Stassi Schroeder's corroded heart continued. And it involved men brawling in the parking lot, thrown drinks, and lots of tears. Was I the only one laughing?
So Stassi is corralling her two best friends Kristen Doute and Katie Maloney (who finally got some airtime this week!) to go to Vegas for her 24th birthday. It's a tradition that every year on the eve of the most illustrious birthday of the year – almost more important that Baby Jesus' – Stassi begins her annual trek to the holy land. The mecca of debauchery, inappropriately abused sequins, and liquid splendor. And all hail queen Stassi of the golden hair and orange tan cause she is the chosen one. That's what she tells herself anyway. I'm still surprised she can find two people willing to vacation with her.
Apparently Stassi has A-List friends and B-List friends, all of whom are employees at Sur per her contract with Bravo and first she invites the A-Listers so they can be sure to waste their vacation days on her and get off work. Then when she's positive the B-Listers won't be able to score time off she pity invites them and then laughs when they feel bad declining. More champagne for her!
What say we about Vanderpump Rules except that these girls are seriously a mess. How any of them can possibly have boyfriends is a straight-up mystery to me.
Taking a break from Stassi Schroeder's ridiculous Jax Taylor entanglement – albeit a brief six second break – we are treated to the terminally insecure and immature Kristen Doute on a girlfriend tantrum bender.
Apparently everyone in LA is a part-time Sur employee and a maybe model/maybe hooker and they often live together and hook up. And sometimes when six degrees of Sur happens they run into each other at amateur staged for Bravo TV modeling shoots. Such would be the case with Kristen and boyfriend/concealer lover/musician/maybe hooker bedding Tom Sandoval.
Being Jax Taylor is a difficult thing. Being Jax Taylor means swatting away desperate hoards of single women grasping at you like vampires fighting over a corpse. Being Jax Taylor means everyone wants to get you drunk and force you to attend parties with them. Being Jax Taylor means all the guys idolize you. And being Jax Taylor means you are dating Stassi Schroeder which is a whole separate problem of its own. But at least she's hot and lets you crash at her place for free, right?!
Last night on Vanderpump Rules, Jax learned that if he doesn't want to buy his own TV and get his own place, he better listen to MamaStassi and grow up or sleeping in his car won't be a choice, it will be a lifestyle. Apparently grown ups aren't male models, either. Hasn't Stassi seen Zoolander? #BlueSteel
At 33, Jax is a former big thing in the world of male modeling but as he is no longer quite so young and pretty he's become kind of a small thing. However he doesn't seem bothered by this and seems content to sling drinks at Sur. Jax admits it's impossible to grow up when you're him and suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome. Which doesn't sit well with his ever-patient, ever-loving Swedish Princess Stassi. Poor Jax – I mean it's hard to be dumb as a box of rocks and have a gasoline fight with your fellow male model friends while the camera rolls and the Le Tigre pout schmoozes the lens.
Let's discuss Vanderpump Rules, shall we. Or should I say The Stassi Schroeder Is Mean hour? Oh Stassi – she's such an angry little thing, isn't she. Vanderpump Rules is the tale of two delusional girls and their aspirations being far bigger than their aptitude. First up is Staaaaaasi, or queen of the blue micro minis.
Everyone's favorite descendent of a Swedish princess moved out to LA with the promise of stardom in her eyes. I mean after all , Stassi is like a 20th removed royal so naturally that should mean she'd arrive in Hollywood, announce: "Here I am!" and she'd be shoving Angelina Jolie off her pedestal, right? Unfortunately things didn't' work out that way.
Someone ought to tell Staaaaaaaaaasi that Swedish princess don't sling drinks – and they probably wear bras to work. I could be wrong as I'm only descendent of Scottish princesses and we always wear undergarments.