The Real Housewives of Atlanta
Don’t even start. Claudia was not breaking any kind of girl code when she entertained the idea of going out with Porsha’s ex-husband Kordell. Girl and guy codes are a ridiculous concept to begin with, and you don’t need them to act like a decent human being unless you’re a total psychopath — plus, PLUS! Porsha and Claudia are not friends. Porsha has been dissing Claudia from the day she arrived in Atlanta, and the only thing that happened last night is that we all got a front-row seat to Claudia beating Porsha at her own game.
As NeNe totters her way through the airport parking lot telling Gregg of the grave injustice she suffered — she had to apologize to Claudia for acting like a grade-A bitch — Cynthia makes sure Malorie and Peter know that the trip was “fun, a nightmare, messy, and shady, but mostly fun.” I love it when NeNe pretends she has no idea how a situation escalates dramatically but readily admits she has a trash-talking alter ego; it’s like watching a baby with Alzheimer’s learn how to walk on the set of the movie Groundhog Day. Did Cynthia really call the insult a “clit collapse”? Don’t ever play the telephone game with Cynthia — the message might start out “Shelly went to the dentist” and end up with you bankrupt and filing for divorce by the time it gets through her babelfish of a brain. Here’s my real question: Why doesn’t her sister, Malorie, make her own damn drink instead of asking Cynthia to make her one? Did I miss the scene where she broke all of her fingers on the way to living rent-free with her sister for months at a time? Her fingers certainly worked fine when she dug through Cynthia’s files and found the infamous friendship contract Cynthia made NeNe sign! Cynthia snatches it, lights it on fire, almost burning her damn hands off, and then drops it in the sink. The friendship contract leaves this world the same way it came into it: childishly and with great, unnecessary fanfare.
Despite the fact that their existing children avoid each other like iron filings and charged magnets, Todd and Kandi want to have a baby. A boy, to be specific, because their low-talking spawn (is there a gas leak in that house?) are already girls. Since Kandi has already confirmed that she has more eggs than a Matrix power-plant has pods, they’re visiting Atlanta’s only ob-gyn, Dr. Jackie, to find out what’s wrong with Todd. As it turns out, nothing is wrong with him per se, but he might need to wear loose chonies and drink a little less to get stuff going. “Get stuff going” is about as professional as Dr. Jackie gets; she also refers to her sperm-collecting room as a “masturbatorium” and their largest, uh, sample cup as “the Mandingo.” What is this, an Art Basel exhibit? Would you put your fertility in the hands of a woman who acted like an on-set fluffer? Todd finds a way to jack off despite these roadblocks and then puts the sample right on her desk, which she sort of deserved. Later in the show, after a day of forced family bonding over go-karts, Kandi gives Todd a white Corvette with a big red bow for his ultrabelated birthday gift, and he rigidly smiles while agreeing that he has no idea what to do. It’s a hell of a week in the Tucker-Burress household.
Cynthia calls her assistants over to help her pick outfits for the grand opening of Peter’s bar, SportsOne, in Charlotte, and since no one has explained indentured servitude to them, they actually do it. She also packs a bunch of outfits for Claudia, having decided she can’t dress herself, for some reason, and invites Kenya to join them. Phaedra is invited but can’t make it due to a well-timed fake dentist appointment and the fact that Apollo has been officially sentenced and received his report-to-jail date, which I still cannot believe is a thing. Kenya agrees to go only if Cynthia promises full hair and makeup, a five-star hotel, and a wardrobe, all of which she’s only half-kidding about. Earlier, Cynthia makes fun of NeNe for being best friends with Porsha, but she seems to avoid the hypocritical nature of her friendship with Kenya, which is equally shady. One of my favorite Housewife pastimes is watching sworn enemies become best friends (see: Kim Richards and Brandi Glanville), and then just conveniently washing over the fact that they each thought each other was the spawn of Satan.
In that spirit, Cynthia, Claudia, and Kenya set off on their three-hour road trip, hilariously realizing that, with all the prep they need to do, they’ll already be late as soon as they roll down the driveway. Kenya is off and running, hanging up on Phaedra, sticking her ass out of the window, and forcing her traveling buddies to blast her single while they order a terrifying amount of Chick-Fil-A, and when they finally get to Charlotte, Peter is pissed off that Cynthia is late. To hell with the other two — he needs his face to be there! The most baller move Cynthia has pulled off this season so far is not her trumped-up tough-girl act, but the fact that she half-listens to Peter while he’s asking why she was late, while simultaneously half-telling Claudia what to wear. If she needs to break free from anyone, it’s Peter, so it was nice to see her in a moment of deep I-don’t-give-a-shit.
Back in Atlanta, Apollo is busy being the most manipulative piece of shit on the planet. I cannot believe how baseless he is, taking his sons out for frozen yogurt and half-assedly telling them he’s going to jail by referring to it as a “long time-out.” What really irked me was that he lets Ayden get his own fro-yo cup (no way that kid deserves that kind of responsibility), and that he repeatedly manipulates his kids into saying “I love you” by asking what they feel like when he’s not around, and what if he can’t come home ever again? The whole thing reeks of him gathering footage to show at divorce court as a way to prove he’s a great dad, or worse, footage to later show his sons as proof that he really loves them, and I don’t buy it for a second. Pastor Regina was right — the storm has passed but the rainbow is on its way. I mean, I guess it is, if you can call Phaedra’s fake ass a rainbow.
Peter brings Kordell in as a partner on SportsOne, giving the former a chance to swindle money out of someone other than his wife while simultaneously airing out his crush on the man. Kordell is there in his finest black button-down, looking like the best thumb he can be. Cynthia shows up and breathlessly tries to explain her lateness, but Peter just forgets he was angry and ushers her over to have her picture taken a lot. Cynthia thinks “sports bars = ballers” and is eager to hook Claudia up with someone, not realizing that “sports bars actually = drunk, aggressive frat bros chugging pitchers until they puke down their own jerseys.” When Claudia arrives, she does the best thing she can: sidle up to her old friend Kordell.
I’m not saying they should be a couple, but I love every single minute of their taking pictures together and making Porsha breathe fire. Kenya and Peter are trying so hard to make a love match, you’d think they had money riding on it, but Claudia is cool and funny, insisting that Kordell never call her after 11 p.m. “breathing heavy” and to treat her with some respect. Cynthia gets a little jealous when Peter keeps calling Claudia cute, but Claudia does a very non-Housewife thing and immediately diffuses the situation, talking about her awful feet and making Cynthia laugh. She sticks by her girl instead of inciting jealousy, and that’s why she’s winning this season, even though her dress looked like she mashed her boobs in a screen door.
Next week, it looks like Kenya is basing a TV show off of every girl in the group; something bad might have happened to Kandi’s show; Apollo acts erratic and threatens to burn his house down; and Porsha steps to Claudia. I really can’t wait. See you then.