Last night on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, we embraced the déjà vu of the White Party, all over again. We were back at Kyle’s eggshell-hued ballyhoo, and two of her cast-member guests were suing each other. But this time, Kyle didn’t tearfully turn the sue-er away from the sue-ee at her door; she welcomed the Malooves with the same open arms she uses on a regular basis to routinely stab her friends in their bony backs. She’s Kyyyyy-le Riiiichards! America’s least self-aware lizard!
But before we get our body bronze makeup all over the matter of the White Party, let’s begin with Kim’s nose party. You see, Kim Richards decided to throw her new nose a sad, weird pool party, so she hired somebody to serve iced coffee drinks, another person to put floating candles in her small pool, and (one assumes) a third person to sit in a locked room with her face-punching dog. Oh, and I think she also hired David Lynch to art direct it, so the focal point of the whole affair would be the disconcerting gauze and strained, structured bandaging in the middle of Kim’s upsetting post-surgery face.
Soon, guests arrived in reticent trickles. Guests like Marisa Zanuck, who came with a sloppy ponytail on her head and tasty gum in her mouth! And Adrienne Maloof, who showed up in a pale lip and a khaki blazer! But the star of the show was Taylor’s daughter, young Kennedy Armstrong, whom we watched in real time as she became an officially ABANDONED CHILD. You see, that very evening, Taylor decided to fly away to Beaver Creek for a romantic weekend with a man she’d just met. And in the process of calling Kim to express her regrets for not being able to make her Nose Party on speaker phone, Taylor acted surprised when Kyle, who was also in on the call, reminded her that Kennedy was still in her care. I suppose Kyle babysits Kennedy on a regular basis? “Oh!” Taylor said. “Well, I trust you, Kyle. Bye!” And then Taylor was gone. That was so disconcerting and bizarre, I wasn’t sure if it was edited for shock value, or if Taylor really is that irresponsible of a mother/human being. And Kim made some fuss about whether Taylor was smashed, because Taylor has been smashed on Zin this whole season. And when Kim is the voice of reason or has any good cause to do tut-tutting … well, we’re all fucked.
Soon, Kim’s plastic surgeon arrived to her nose party with his extremely lifelike wife. And after Kim’s bandages were disgustingly removed by Doctor Gregorian Chants, DDS, Kim came out and showed off her new nose to her guests, who ooh’ed and ahh’ed in their maxi dresses like this was a normal thing that happens at social occasions.
After Kim’s party, we followed Adrienne home to her block, where she and her family witnessed a fire across the street, in Lisa’s old mansion. “Oh my God, that house is on fire!” Adrienne and Paul exclaimed. Adrienne loaded her family into a minivan while Paul took iPhone photos of the blaze, just as his caveman ancestors did.
Then we were at Kyle’s house, where Kyle wore a peplum tablecloth in a flattering shade of dusty rose in order to delegate pre–White Party tasks to her chubby houseman, Glenn. And after a requisite once-over with a curling iron and a set of false lashes, Kyle and Faye Resnick were, respectively, ready to mingle with other phonies in varying shades of parchment.
Lisa showed up, diamonds and things that looked like diamonds dripping all over her catcher’s mitt cleave, and Brandi nervously flitted around the party with two of her friends — one of whom looked like Starrbooty and the other of whom is, I believe the last remaining cast member of Celebrity Rehab who is not yet deceased.
Brandi was nervous that the Malooves would soon arrive, and a scene of Paul and Adrienne approaching in a stretch limo foreshadowed precisely what Brandi had to fear. In the car, Paul and Adrienne talked ominously about karma, and how what Brandi had said and done would soon come back to haunt her. I don’t think serving people with legal documents is an organic element of the karma process, but John Lennon is dead now, so we can’t ask him and will probably never know.
There was also a confusing moment or two in the limo during which it appeared that Adrienne admitted their lawyer had indeed sent a letter to Brandi, but then Paul said that, no, that had not happened at all? Or maybe Paul was just reminding Adrienne that, in front of the cameras, “hear no letter, see no lawsuit, speak no legalese” was their party line. Either way, by the time Paul and Adrienne arrived at Kyle’s, they were on the offensive. But right before they entered Richards’s home, a bug flew down Paul’s shirt and he hopped around, Homer Simpson–ly, trying to evade the vermin’s pesky presence. Now. I’m not a dumb person — I have two degrees and I read for pleasure — but I swear, I could watch Paul Nassif dance around trying to get a bug out of his shirt for a full hour. Score it with goofy music and you’ve got me for 90 minutes.
Once the Malooves finally entered, Brandi fretted about confronting them, and Lisa gave her friend the advice to approach Adrienne and ask her if they could speak woman to woman. And Brandi didn’t exactly follow that advice, but rather sent Starrbooty over in her stead to ask if Adrienne wouldn’t mind chatting with Brandi solo. Of course, Paul tagged along, and soon, the three of them got into it.
Adrienne, predictably, wouldn’t admit to having sued Brandi, and the matter of what exactly their lawyer had sent Glanville bled into the matter of what Brandi had accused Adrienne of on Twitter and beyond. When Paul demanded proof that Bernie, his doppelgänger chef, had been selling stories about Brandi to Radar Online, Brandi pulled out a copy of an e-mail from her purse, which seemed to shut up Paul, at least on that matter. Go on, Brandi! Show a bitch — you got to have PRINT-OUTS in your motherfuckin’ CLUTCH if you’re going to SHUT A SUCKER UP!
And around this time, Taylor wobbled in, fresh from a mighty fucking and reeking of Beaver Lake good times, Sauvignon Blanc, and general negligence. Taylor pointed out to Kyle, with Lisa as her Sherpa, the hypocrisy of Adrienne, who had said one year ago that “friends don’t sue friends.” And after some prodding, Kyle reluctantly agreed that, yes, the situation between Brandi and Adrianne was indeed similar to last year’s White Party conflict between Camille and Taylor (or, according to Taylor, Russell), in that two of her guests were in a legal battle over potentially “defamatory” comments.
And nobody was more bloodthirsty over said defamatory comments than Paul. In fact, even as he denied ever serving Brandi with papers that insisted she stop slandering his family, Paul gave Brandi the ol’ “You asked for it” shuck and jive when she expressed her difficulty in paying for a lawyer once she was served with some kind of legal documents. “Be careful what you do or say” is a synonym, as far as I’m concerned, for “Fuck yes, we served you with shut-your-mouth papers, bitch. And if you don’t zip it, we’ll rob you blind.” But in his testimonial, Paul admitted only to having “warned” Brandi.
Meanwhile, Lisa would not let fishy Kyle off the hook, bless and keep Saint Vanderpump forever more. “You should really kick out Adrienne, to be fair,” quoth Lisa. And Kyle was like “well, Adrienne didn’t exactly SUE Brandi.” “Neither had Russell!” Lisa said, winning the argument, and life. But Kyle continued to wave her pathetic white flag, streaked as it was with Adrienne’s body tanner. “How about if nobody sues anybody!” she laughed, gearing up to make this, like everything else, all about her. “I don’t want to go through what I did at last year’s party” she continued, living up to the aforementioned premonition and defending her right to do nothing to protect her fake friend Brandi the way she once protected her real friend Camille. Kyle even said out loud that the Adrienne-Brandi debacle was “not her problem.” To which Lisa, she of brass balls and perfect hair, cheekily responded, “Actually, yes it is. Cheers!” Lisa is the only person on this show who calls Kyle out on her passive-aggressive, party-line-towing, disloyal bullshit. She’s the only one astute or fearless enough to see Kyle’s silence for what it truly is — cowardice, fawning, and the weasel-iest way to take sides possible, which is to say she pisses off those with integrity in her efforts to please everybody, by pleasing nobody. I salute Lisa for zero’ing in on the person on this show with the most misplaced convictions, not to mention the neediest infant id. God, I hate Kyle. If any of you use Turbo Tax this year, please stop reading these recaps. Deal? Deal.
And on the other side of the house, midway into the latest Brandi-Maloof showdown, a whole bevy of onlookers showed up to watch the sparks. Soon, Ken came to Brandi’s defense, to the consternation (and sexual frustration?) of Paul, who called Glanville the Vanderpumps’ daughter/girlfriend — a sick notion. And while the ambiguity of the letter, the exact legal action taken, and what exactly Brandi did indeed say are frustrating mid-series plot points, I do hope that all of this will lead to a juicy and illuminating reunion.
Next time, Kim will confront Taylor about her problem with the funny-sauce! Kyle will take some of the gals to Paris, where wine runs through all known plumbing! And Kim and her new nose continue to act the part of the damaged clown. Until next week’s installation of this exquisite Commedia Del’ Arte, my pals!