To quote the immortal N’Sync, whose reputation is sullied by an unfortunate association with Vanderpump Rules, “I know that I can’t take no more, It ain’t no lie, I want to see you out that door, Baby bye bye bye.” And yes, I have had enough!
More than enough of Bravo claiming to support human rights and equality, yet, at every turn employing people who are misogynistic, racist, bigoted, and homophobic. I’ve certainly had enough of Jax Taylor and Brittany Cartwright. I’ve never cared about their love. Which seemed about as deep and stable as a damp cardboard box that Amazon left on your porch while you were crashing at your Tinder hookup’s place (basically Scheana Marie‘s version of marriage).
I’ve never had any interest in their greasy, fishy proposal. Or their Pinterest FAILED IT wedding planning. I can’t with Brittany’s increasingly amped up southern drawl and raspy cackle, or the way she douses herself in tequila like it really can kill off STDs (or kill off the lurking knowledge that her marriage to Jax is fake, and that he will always and forever cheat).
I must say I am loving Below Deck Sailing Yacht, especially in contrast to the toxic cesspool of poop-smelling goo that was this season’s Below Deck. Sure, Adam Glick may have the flirting game of the SNL skit The Ladies Man, but at least he’s not sexually assaulting people, then blaming sand for existing at the same time he was suffering from drunken hurt feelings.
Also, I adore Captain Glenn Shephard. Only a man living on a 4-foot sailing yacht for the last decade, in a room the size of a can of beans would mispronounce vegan as “vaygan”. I just find him so charming and calm, and without ego. Yay Captain Glenn!
But now we must dive into Jenna MacGillivray‘s failed seduction of Adam. Which culminated in her passing out in a wet bathing suit after a hot tub make-out.
We have finally docked on this toxic season of Below Deck, and they could fill an ocean with champagne and it still wouldn’t be enough to celebrate coming to the end of this mess.
There’s really not much left to say about the stupidity, except that the guys have learned nothing. As Courtney Skippon so eloquently explained (how on earth did casting miss that she was smart and go on to hire her?) about misogyny it’s not simply hating women, it’s putting women down for behaving in ways you think are reserved for men. This manifested in Brian de Saint Pern deciding Courtney had no right to share her opinions and should stay out of ‘mens bidnezz.’ Or Ashton Pienaar deciding he could shove his tongue down Kate Chastain‘s throat, because all she’s worth is an item to satisfy him, not his equal rank in running an entity of a super yacht.
Last night Nene Leakes finally reappeared on Real Housewives Of Atlanta. She probably should’ve stayed camouflaged in season’s past, because I personally have had enough of her martyr act. The same goes for Kenya Moore! You two are only victims of your own arrogance, ladies! And in the middle of it all was Cynthia Bailey, playing the role of the ever-forgiving, ever-loving, ever-obliging friend.
After going way overboard in her supposed clawback to Tanya Sam when Kenya arrived to lunch and called her the c-word, then brought a burnt Cookie Lady to ‘expose’ Paul Judge as a cheater, Kenya still does not at all feel she owes Tanya an apology. Of course she doesn’t.
Kenya’s desperation is showing, and that slip is dingy and frayed! Just like her marriage, and without being able to brag about being a “Mrs” and finally having the perfect life, Kenya needs the relevance of RHOA. Unfortunately Tanya and Cynthia have been caught in the crossfire.
Last night Vanderpump Rules celebrated the annual SUR rite of passage: PRIDE!
In order to survive in this alternate universe known as Lisa Vanderpump Land, which at this point is indistinguishable from Lisa Frank Land (and one will equally find themselves trapperkeeper’d), one must dress up in rainbow paraphernalia, endure hours of Scheana Marie warbling “Solid Gold” on repeat, and have a hysterical selfish meltdown about their heterosexual relationships while ostensibly celebrating gay rights. This time, for the second year in a row, that prideful accomplishment goes to James Kennedy.
That’s right, bitches, the White Kanye is back and he came to lead his flock in verse and song of rage. And proving that James is here to resuscitate Vanderpump Rules he was even wearing a “Life Guard” man-tank with matching visor, like something out of a Ken Doll box.
After reserving judgment last week, I’ve decided that I think I like Below Deck Sailing Yacht. It has all the elements of a disaster but set against beautiful scenery and a competent crew.
Take Paget Berry and Ciara Duggan for instance. Together since practically infancy, isolating themselves away on a sailing yacht in a wonky tripod of living with a parental figure who is also a friend and their boss, and cut off from people their age. And in comes the new crew and suddenly Paget overhears Georgia Grobler singing in the laundry (It’s like the Little Mermaid!) and remembers that other women exist. This might come as news to Ciara as well.
Now, Paget has the sex appeal of a boiled potato, and I think it’s mainly his hair which is flaxen-colored flaccidness that belongs on an 8-year-old Norwegian in 1987. Ciara also does flattening things with her hair, and it’s odd to see something so bushy also look so… flat. But we are not here to dismember the intricacies of Pagara’s hair (or are we?) – we are here to pick apart every other thing about their relationship!
After all the drama of this season’s Below Deck I expected the reunion to be somewhere on the crazy-level of your average Real Housewives reunion, but it was clear that everyone came with a plan to redeem themselves by being on their best behavior. Sure, there were disagreements, but polite and quiet ones. Even Kevin Dobson apologized and managed to find nice things to say about Kate Chastain. Not that we forgive him.
Andy Cohen was pretty direct this reunion. Possibly even skewing towards combative. He directly questioned Kate and Captain Lee, and even argued against some of Captain Lee’s points. Basically, Andy seems tired of Captain Lee blindly defending Kate at all costs possible. To err is human and last I checked Kate is a human, not the saint of the sea.
Last night’s Real Housewives Of Atlanta should’ve won an award for worst relationships in a reality TV format. From Kenya Moore berating Tanya Sam and calling her the “C word” (over a wig!), to Mama Joyce deciding she’d rather trust an infant with her affairs than her son-in-law if Kandi Burruss dies, to Cynthia Bailey‘s finance admitting in front of his teenaged daughter that he never loved her mother… It just went on and on. The only person who escaped unscathed was Eva Marcille. But, she’s pregnant so that’s more than enough to deal with!
It’s been so long since Real Housewives Of Atlanta has aired that I legitimately forgot about Kenya fighting with Tanya over a wig reveal. This started when Kenya intimated that Tanya’s fiancé was cheating with some woman who owns a cookie shop in the same building as Cynthia’s new wine cellar.
To refresh: in Toronto, Kenya spent an entire dinner beating around the bush that somebody’s man was cheating, and even pointblank asked Tanya if she’d want to know if her fiance cheated. Of course, Kenya never gave any details about who she was referring to, but Cynthia and Kandi knew it was in reference to cookie lady claiming Paul Judge hit on her at a bar one night.