Much like the Overlook Hotel’s 1921 Fourth of July ball, D’Andra’s fourth anniversary party somehow, somewhere, according to the rules of some dark realm just beyond our understanding, rages on. And no, of course LeeAnne’s supposed surprise wedding isn’t actually happening, which, duh. Nevertheless, “I sharted,” Rich announces, to no one in particular.
The only thing more improbable than Stephanie and LeeAnne’s lovefest is the serious turn their conversation is about to take. “I have a hard time drinking because I get depressed,” Stephanie says. From there, the two of them frankly describe their struggles with depression, and Stephanie reveals that she survived a suicide attempt when she was 22. (LeeAnne, too, has attempted suicide.) I am so sorry to learn this, so glad that both of these women are okay, and so grateful that they make reality television a little stranger and more delightful for us every week.
There’s no better way to conclude a candid, moving conversation about mental health than with far too many tequila shots for everyone, just as there’s no better way to make an entrance than to curtly RSVP no to an invitation, only to show up after dinner’s already been served. These are the circumstances in which Brandi, like Venus wakeboarding on a shell out of the foaming sea, arrives at D’Andra’s party. A wasted Stephanie screams and claps when she sees her, like a baby transfixed by the sight of a jingling set of keys.
After a tense hug, and more tequila, Brandi takes D’Andra aside to talk about their problems. Talking about their problems looks, sounds, and smells a lot like not talking about their problems. D’Andra still doesn’t understand the nature of Brandi’s irritation with her; the closest Brandi comes to an explanation is saying, “I’ve never not liked you.” Stephanie decides she and LeeAnne should interrupt this conversation. But is she sure? “I’m, like, tequila sure,” Stephanie says. From personal experience, I have never been Tequila Sure (available now from Skinnygirl®!) about anything that wasn’t actually an actively terrible idea. Stephanie is also Tequila Sure that she should try to climb the lion statue outside the front door. “I’m gonna ride it like a lady,” she says, promptly tumbling off the beast’s back and into Brandi’s ever-open arms, like a lady.
At the office, D’Andra and Dee un-shun each other, Dwight Schrute style, just long enough to have a showdown over whether they should rebrand the packaging for a dietary supplement. This, of course, is really a showdown over Dee’s continued refusal to allow D’Andra to take control of the company that she theoretically gave her control of.
“Lots of mothers and daughters are jealous of each other, particularly if they’re good looking,” Dee says, unprompted. “You’re a beautiful woman. I’m not a slob at 77; I can tell you that for sure.” But D’Andra isn’t jealous of her mom, she protests. “Well, let’s just say we’re both very popular,” Dee replies.
Best Supporting Actress Oscars have been won for less than what Dee gave us in this scene.
Anyway, by the end of the conversation, Dee says D’Andra verbally abused her; D’Andra says Dee manipulates her with money. Re-shun. Let the minutes of this meeting of the Real Housewives of Dallas Chamber of Commerce also reflect that LeeAnne has designed something she calls an “infinity dress,” a wearable Swiss Army knife with optional ruffles and capes and probably also pasta-making attachments. I am confident that it’ll be huge on QVC, based on my expertise from once falling asleep after watching 45 minutes of Joy on an airplane.
Over at Stephanie’s lovely home, where nearly $2 million of renovations can’t change the fact that it is haunted by the souls of those who I assume once drowned in that (now-covered) living room pool, she’s hosting an intentionally ambiguous “Bubbles and Bru”–themed party to introduce Brandi’s newly adopted son Bruin to their friends.
Besides Brandi’s immediate family and Stephanie herself, only Cary knows of Bruin’s existence. Stephanie and Travis, who looks like what would happen if you squashed Josh Brolin from a fullscreen to a widescreen aspect ratio, have somehow spent $22,000 (did renting that cotton candy machine cost, like, $21,500?) on a very blue gathering to welcome this precious angel into their frequently terrifying social circle. Despite their tension with Brandi, both D’Andra and LeeAnne are in attendance, the latter of whom is wearing (a) dark eye makeup that makes her look uncannily unlike she’s in D’Andra cosplay, and (b) ass-length crimped hair with red and blonde streaks that, I’m sorry, but I would need another 1,000 words to adequately unpack for you.
Kameron, suspicious about the party’s unusual name and the pastel-blue décor, corners Stephanie: Is someone having a baby boy? Is it Brandi? Stephanie suggests Kameron start her own “pink detective agency,” and at the very moment that those three words left her mouth, Pink Detective Agency was greenlit for 13 episodes to air in the old Girlfriends’ Guide to Divorce time slot. But rather than tell Kolumbo with a K that she’s right, Stephanie quickly comes up with a lie. Yes, this party is about a baby boy, because she and Travis have a surrogate. The baby is coming “really soon,” Stephanie says, which I guess isn’t technically a lie on its own. “Like, really, really soon.” When Cary approaches them, Stephanie grabs her arm with a death grip and stares directly into her eyes, the universal sign between friends of, Please, for the love of God, just go along with whatever bullshit about a baby I am not having is coming out of my mouth.
And so Kameron is fooled, but only for a few minutes. Brandi, holding Bruin, and Brian soon emerge from hiding upstairs as Stephanie introduces “our favorite ginger family,” to the delight of the guests. Except one, that is: A scowl momentarily crosses Kameron’s face. I feel a pink disturbance in the force.
