NeNe’s new He-Man wig was mesmerizing in the worst possible way. What else even happened last night? You can’t remember, either! I haven’t put a pick through my hair all weekend, and instead of putting on a bra today I put on a hoodie over another hoodie, but I draw the line at leaving the house looking like Sia.
Did you guys know that Kandi’s aunt Nora, who sounds exactly like Lil Jon when she calls the family to congregate for pre-meal grace and takes her bag with her everywhere, is just as trifling and meddling as Mama Joyce? The apples on this family tree don’t even attempt to fall — they just grow stronger stems to hang onto the branches for dear life and stew in their own fetid juices until they shrivel up and rot. Even cousin Weenie had to throw in some unsolicited advice. Not you, too, Weenie! Kandi and Mama Joyce are basically not talking because Mama Joyce fucked up her house, which in my family is grounds for fighting, suing, a few left hooks upside the head, and disowning each other, so a little icy silence is a gentle approach in my book.
Mama Joyce remains delusional to the point of disbelief, daring to say that Kandi doesn’t appreciate people who help her. She said that with a straight face while Kandi is out there buying her two houses and raising her cousin Melvin as her own while his dad is in jail, as well as taking in Todd’s daughter and raising her own child. The reel in Mama Joyce’s head looks like a Peter Max explosion and you will never be able to convince me otherwise. Aunt Nora and Weenie forced them to sit in a room together, Intervention-style, then they bounced while Mama Joyce and Kandi made up. Well, I think they made up; Joyce didn’t have much to say after Kandi read her a series of intensely crazy text messages, so she just got quiet and said she was tired and trying to prevent an aneurysm. I am using this excuse every single time I need to leave a party. “No, I’m having a good time, I just don’t want to have an aneurysm.” Todd made fun of Mama Joyce’s low voice and the fact that she only gets tired when she’s put on blast. I hate that he’s married into this family so, so much.
Demetria, a singer wearing the white crop-top outfit from the Kim Kardashian Hollywood game, needed Cynthia’s help with her video-release party, because that is apparently a thing. Cynthia, a Dana Carvey character who is incapable of being a serious businesswoman™ without a disguise, put on her best Carmen Sandiego togs and sat at her conference table talking about her outfit for a while. Demetria mentioned her producer boyfriend Roger Bobb and then proceeded to say his name so many times I had one of those seizures people get from lights that blink really fast. There is already beef between Demetria and Kenya thanks to Roger Bobb — they were pictured together a few months ago and people speculated that they might be dating, so Demetria is pissed. There are only two problems with this fit of rage: Kenya isn’t the one spreading those rumors, and Demetria’s 8-year-long relationship with Roger Bobb has been a complete fucking secret. No one in Atlanta knew they were dating! Do you know how subversive you have to be to date someone for the better part of a decade and not even have your deli guy know? We’ve only known Demetria for two minutes and I’m already sick of her. How dare you put me in a position to defend Kenya! On the other hand, she made Cynthia say, “Peter was on the blogs!” like your out-of-touch nana, so there’s a sliver of forgiveness there.
Don’t worry — Kenya squashed any and all good will when she put on a gold lamé jumpsuit, referred to herself as “the Carrie” in her imagined Sex and the City setup, and stirred the Roger Bobb shitstorm with Claudia and Cynthia. Why can’t Cynthia just keep her mouth shut? All she had to say was “I met Roger Bobb’s girlfriend, so I don’t think he’s available” when Kenya tried to set Claudia up with him, but instead she unhinged her jaw and unleashed wave after wave of stories about how Demetria is mad at Kenya. Just keep it to yourself, Cynthia!
Kenya, consummate meddler, then went to Roger Bobb’s office and said, “I want you to produce a vehicle for me.” Is that how that business works? You just roll up to someone and say, “Hey, I have no ideas, but you should absolutely give me money and make a show for me.” Roger Bobb, who sounds like a lost Clinton relative, actually said sure, I’ll hire some writers and get something going, so consider this my public appeal to get in on this "asking famous people for shit" action. Hey, Jesse Williams, you should produce your face vehicle on my mouth bumpers! Benedict Cumberbatch, why don’t you produce your peen in my vah-jeen? Hooray for Hollywood! Kenya is an instigator with a capital gross, but Roger Bobb fessed up to dating Demetria and then invited Kenya to her video-release party, which is totally normal and not at all weird.
Surprising no one, NeNe was on her own this week, shilling her peekaboo-shoulder clothing line at the HSN headquarters in Tampa. She had an afternoon full of infantilizing gay men (“I wouldn’t do anything without having a gay on my team” and “gays are very special people”) and wearing her sunglasses inside, and an evening full of complaining about how tired she was going to be for her debut at midnight. Why didn’t this bitch just take a nap? She got there at high noon — she couldn’t park it on a couch for a few hours? It’s like she never got too drunk to function on a Sunday afternoon and made a fort on her best friend’s couch out of throw blankets before. She was squawk-y and weird during her two-hour stint, but her peekaboo-shoulder shirt sold out faster than she did. Hey-o!
This video-release party was a mess from the jump. Did Cynthia style Demetria in that glitter skirt, side-boob shirt, and neon-green clutch on purpose? Everyone filed in — Phaedra was excited for a girl’s night away from Apollo, Kenya hugged Phaedra and iced out Porsha, and Claudia suggested Demetria try Operation: Trap a Dude and get pregnant in order to have Roger Bobb propose to her. The world is a garbage pit, and I hate everyone. Kenya is mad that Roger Bobb isn’t coming, and I’m mad that the video screen is just flashing MEMOREX for hours. They couldn’t even put on VH1 or something? Demetria tried to confront Kenya, but Kenya broke her will by telling her, “I like money,” and they were all smiles within seconds. I’m proud of Kenya for using her inside voice and not immediately jumping into some twirl-based stunt, and I feel like this is as mature as she gets.
Things got instantly weird when Apollo showed up, mostly because I’m sick of his jolly jail tour, but also because Phaedra was visibly uncomfortable. It made my skin crawl to see the way he was touching and talking to her, asking her if she was in “discrediting mode” or if she wanted to talk. He apparently hadn’t been home for days, but wanted to have a serious conversation about the state of their marriage at a nightclub? His 4-year-old is smarter than that! Phaedra sat rigidly as he pulled her toward him and whispered, “You’re still my wife,” into her ear, and it looked like a scene from any Lifetime movie about abused women. Phaedra isn’t falling for it; when she said, “Love is a verb, not a noun” I might have stood up and clapped. Apollo is a scourge, and I feel bad for Phaedra.
The greatest thing happened at the end of the episode, though, to send us out on a high note: When Demetria continued to have technical difficulties with her overly tardy video, everyone in the crew got up and left. They just left! Without even saying good-bye! We don’t get many moments of solidarity with these women, and it was beautiful to see them come together over the idea that they should all be home in bed by now.
See you next week!