The Real Housewives of Orange County
Hi there! I’m Molly Fitzpatrick, visiting adjunct teaching assistant at the Real Housewives Institute, filling in for Brian Moylan this week while he’s off fulfilling his diplomatic duties as the U.S. Ambassador to Scary Island. I’m more accustomed to the cloudier, lasagna-ier climes of New Jersey, but I am so excited to be here with you under all these palm trees, surrounded by blonde women talking an awful lot about Jesus.
We begin with Vicki as she undergoes a battery of tests at her cardiologist’s office. “Do you detect a broken heart?” she asks the nurse, and no, she cannot, although modern medical science most likely could detect the barf in my mouth. “I am adamant about trying to figure out how to fix these problems with Tamra and Shannon,” Vicki explains in a confessional. “I mean, I don’t want to die of a stroke because they didn’t want to be my friend.” This is truly a narcissist masterstroke: laying the foundation for guilt surrounding your death while you’re still alive.
Her test results aren’t great. She has an abnormal EKG and “extra” heart sounds, because everything about Vicki is extra. But let’s be very clear about this: While her heart health isn’t perfect, Vicki is fine. Her doctor assures her it’s “nothing dangerous.” Please bookmark this recap and return to it in the likely event that Vicki interprets this conversation very differently in future weeks. Nevertheless, as she’ll tell Kelly and her new boobs over dinner at Chez Dodd, she wants to take better care of herself for her children and fill her life with “positivity.” I’ll believe that when I see it, ma’am.
The rest of the women head over to Meghan’s for a dinner with her personal psychic, Mystic Michaela. (Pro tip: Don’t trust any professional, in any field, who doesn’t have an alliterative name. Lawyer Laura, Plumber Pete, Gynecologist Gary, etc.) Peggy, who looks like Kim Kardashian in the same way the prom dress you ordered online looks like the picture on the website, is very dismissive when Mystic Michaela offers her an aura color reading. Then Mystical Michaela tells her she’s intuitive, and Peggy reacts like she’s just been informed that owning multiple two-toned sports cars is an amazing idea. Uh, duh. Been there, done that: “I know … I know that I know that I know.” Well, Peggy didn’t miss out. The aura readings couldn’t be duller if Mystic Michaela were colorblind. Tamra’s aura is yellow and purple; Shannon’s is indigo and yellow. What are the odds that Mystic Michaela has ever told anyone their aura is baby-poop green, or three-year-old coffee stain or a berber-carpet beige?
Lydia takes this opportunity to invite everyone — including Vicki and Kelly, via speakerphone — to Iceland, where’s she’s heading to write a review (of the whole country?) for the publication of record that is Nobleman magazine. I’m very much looking forward to the television that will come of this trip, because this dull-ass season needs it, but I’m also horrified on behalf of Iceland. In this tiny, beautiful country with 10 percent the population of Orange County, the Housewives’ presence will no doubt result in some kind of devastating ecological disaster.
Approximately 90 seconds into the Iceland discussion, Peggy abruptly confronts Shannon for not calling her back about the drama at her anniversary party — and whether or not David “grilled” Diko about Peggy’s cancer — which, oh my God, I am so bored already. Mystical Michaela can probably see my Cheeto-orange aura rising out of my body to escape through the nearest chimney. “What kind of pot are you trying to stir?” Shannon asks. “My feeling pot,” Peggy answers, sounding less like a UCLA English major than an alien who learned about human civilization by studying decades-old TV broadcasts from Earth when the signals finally reached her planet.
“Do you trust your husband?” Peggy asks. “Has he ever lied to you, about anything else?” Holy shit, Peggy. That was ice-cold. Tamra’s mouth falls open and stays open for at least a minute, like she’s animatronic and there’s been a sudden power outage at the Magic Kingdom’s Hall of Housewives. The women keep on arguing about an encounter between two other people that neither of them was present for until Shannon ends up crying in the bathroom, where Tamra comforts her while audibly peeing. “I’m calm! I’m calm!” Shannon shouts, calmly. She and Peggy attempt a one-on-one conversation in the other room, but now it’s Peggy’s turn to cry. As she explains later, she wanted to join this group of friends so they could offer her love and support in a time of need — which, while I’m sympathetic, was probably not the best reason to sign up for a reality show fueled by pettiness and bitchery since 2006. (Unrelated, but the lighting in Peggy’s interviews is so weird, isn’t it? It looks like her hologram is trying to tell Obi-Wan Kenobi he’s her only hope.)
She and Lydia leave, which means Shannon is free to scream uninterrupted about how people will act like she’s the crazy one. Unfortunately, screaming about how you’re not the crazy one is scientifically the most effective way to convince people that you are, in fact, the crazy one. Mystic Michaela, meanwhile, is an utter waste of space, having predicted none of this and contributed nothing. Cowering like a RHOC fan who won a walk-on role but is terrified by the brutal reality of filming her favorite TV program, she is a blemish on the psychic legacy of RHOBH’s Allison “I Can Tell You When She Will Die and What Will Happen to Her Family, I Love That About Me” DuBois. I mean, she was vaping in 2010, before we even had a word for vaping!
The next day, Shannon goes to see Tamra, who’s overwhelmed with gratitude that her estranged daughter, Sidney, invited her to her high-school graduation. But Shannon is not in such a good place. As Tamra correctly suggests in a confessional, since she found out David cheated, her friend’s life has been in a meltdown. Shannon is “absolutely humiliated” by her behavior the night before. She admits to Tamra that she’s not over her husband’s affair like she thought she was, and that her anger over the issues in her relationship led her to lash out inappropriately in all kinds of situations. I’m glad to hear her self-awareness, but that doesn’t make her marriage any less of a catastrophic bummer. Maybe it’s for the best that Shannon spends some time away. Also, not for nothing, but David sucks.
We leave the ladies at the airport, bound for the land of the midnight sun. Because she’s still breastfeeding, 5-month-old Aspen Edmonds is coming along — as is Meghan’s nanny-cousin Bridget — but something tells me she’ll be far from the worst-behaved person on this trip.