Good Tuesday afternoon, pals! Last night’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was the first straight-up MEH episode of the season. No confrontations, no showdowns, no hot lady-on-lady action ON-CAMERA. Just the stage set for a Palm Springs group getaway, some graduation-related grousing, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for one of the music business’s grossest creeps who is NOT Phil Spector.
But before I proceed to the action, there’s something I need to get out of the way. Apparently, I have been ASLEEP ON THE JOB, because I only just realized that Kim is holding an iguana in the opening credits sequence. How this slipped by me, I do not know. I am guessing that I didn’t see it earlier because I was not yet emotionally equipped to let my eyes send that image to my brain. But that’s no excuse and I am deeply sorry. The fact of the matter is: KIM IS HOLDING AN IGUANA IN THE OPENING CREDITS. This is the most important thing that has ever happened in the history of humans and, probably, iguanas, and I don’t think we’ll ever even BEGIN to deal with it. But every week, we will try.
Anyway. After the iguana image was seared into my brain like grill marks on a steak, the episode officially began with Yolo, who welcomed her brother and mother from Holland with sandwiches and a story about exactly WHY SHE LOOKS FOR FATHERS IN HER ROMANTIC PARTNERS. Hello!!! Yolanda’s father died when she was 7? She remembers her tiny feet dangling off the pew? Did anybody else find that recollection of hers to be a really poignant account of trauma and loss, not to mention a pretty visible-from-space trail of lemon crumbs that led to exactly why Yolanda seeks older, distant men who are kind of shitty to her? YOLO IS LOOKING FOR A DAD, HELLO! I feel like that was a breakthrough in understanding Yolanda. That, and how she has supported her family since she left the house to model? That put a lot into perspective, especially as it relates to her Nazi-ish attitude toward bread. In other words, if I knew my mom and brother weren’t going to eat unless I were modeling up a storm, I would have a way easier time staying on my diet. Then again, bread is pretty amazing. And stroopwaffels? Don’t get me started!
Then we checked in with Brandi, whose dogs were shitting and pissing to and fro. That was the gist of this scene, right? Was there some dad stuff as well? Brandi’s dad, if you remember, is angry at her because she wore a dress that was too tight to the Oscars back in February. Also, Seth MacFarlane hosted and Anne Hathaway won an award, so I vote that we all agree to forget everything that happened that night. Got it, Brandi’s dad? Moving on.
Across town, Kyle puttered around her kitchen with shorts on. Mauricio came home with a triumphant and contemporary WASSSSSSSUP. Kyle told him he looked sexy in his sunglasses, and that she and Portia had just recently watched Bambi. And we don’t know whether Kyle told Portia after Bambi’s mother died, “See, Portia? That’s why we always tell mommy six times before noon that her hair looks perfect. If you don’t appreciate mommies, Walt Disney will kill them before Act 2.”
After Mauricio came home, he and Kyle pretended to be more in love than they actually are, and talked about how shitty everybody in the world is except for them and, occasionally, Joyce. Specifically, Kyle and Mauricio talked about how shitty it was for Lisa and Brandi to be clucking about the tabloid gossip that Mauricio was cheating on Kyle; and especially bringing it up to Kyle instead of keeping it behind her back.
Then, we got to check in with the Vanderpumps. Ken balanced a small dog face up on his lap (where is the Golden pup from last week’s show?) while Lisa more or less agreed with her husband that there’s PROBABLY no truth to the rumor of Mauricio’s infidelity. And Ken told Lisa in so many words that, if Kyle was her friend, she would have taken a public stand in her defense. And Lisa was like, “Yup!” meaning LOL Kyle is not really her friend.
BTW: Here is your weekly reminder that Kyle is a terrible person. I was just talking about her this weekend to my friend Nate — how annoying it was last week when she hung upside down and said, “I feel like a piece of meat in a butcher shop!” Why would anyone say that out loud? It is a pointless observation from a dull mind, broadcast from the glossy lips of an insecure person uncomfortable with silence and desperate to seem “fun” or “funny.” Listening to Kyle’s stray observations is an exercise as useless as writing down something an actress improvised in her scene study class. Lord, save me from people with nothing to say who desperately need to be heard.
While Kyle, Lisa, and their respective spouses circled around the gossip that would or would not come out in later episodes, the Dark Arts District of Beverly Hills was abuzz with activity. That’s because Carlton was in the process of taking her black cat, Midnight, to the acupuncturist. Now, a couple of things: First of all, for somebody who’s so creative naming her children, Carlton has, for the first time this season, let me down. MIDNIGHT? For a black cat? Come on. Here are four names that I just came up with off the top of my head for that very well-behaved kitty just now, and all of them are better than Midnight. (1) Carl (2) Jeff (3) Doug (4) Pokey. Second of all: Cats do not like acupuncture. That’s all.
Speaking of creepy procedures that may or may not be necessary, Kyle took Joyce to her facialist. Remember Kyle’s esthetician? She’s the gal who makes women look like at least seven kinds of horror movie villains before she runs their credit card for something in the four-digit range, I’m guessing? And right before Kyle donned the Leatherface cone, she “joked” to Joyce that, because she wanted a treatment for her dry hands, that she wanted a “hand job.” Then, Kyle repeated it. She said that she needed a “hand job” twice, and then she laughed at her own joke. And the sound of laughter depressed the “do something!” lever in Joyce’s pistachio brain. “That’s hilarious!” Kyle’s only friend actually said out loud. I’d say Joyce was lying, but who knows what low-IQ people actually think is funny. Isn’t humor what separates us from animals because of our wit-fueled brains? That and art? I am not sure, but I’m still convinced, based on Groomsgate last week (Joyce taking umbrage with Joyce’s Silverback-like objection to her touching her hair), that Joyce is mostly gibbon. And I don’t think she’s fast enough to be a good liar: She is too rigid to make an obviously producer-prompted “Ay Dios Mio!” convincing in her to-camera testimonial, and she is from Puerto Rico.
As Jerky’s facialist laid her client’s face with gauze, Dum-dum mentioned that she would soon be hosting the cast at a retreat in Palm Springs. And Kyle, referring to what she would look like once her gauzing, leathering, electrocution, and excavating was through, said the following about her journey to a more youthful appearance to a woman who’s never read for pleasure: “It’s like the portrait of Dorian Grey: Like, before and after. “ This is a thing Kyle said. I rewound it to make sure. I’m not even dissecting this interaction or pointing out its inaccuracy. I’m just done. Good-bye.
After this, we pretty much had to strap ourselves into the Mom Show featuring Empty Nesters and Rites of Passage. Kim’s daughter Kimberly needed a dress for her high school graduation, Kyle dealt with the possibility of her daughter going to a college far away from home, and both sisters explained that they never completed levels of their education, and this is something they both claim to regret. Which I do not believe, because the Sisters Richards wouldn’t trade their past screen roles for a whole Kyle Boutique’s worth of diplomas. Does that mean they aren’t happy that their kids are getting an education? No, it does not mean that. And I’m not saying “No loss” when it comes to Kyle and Kim missing out on the challenges that come along with a humanities syllabus, but when Kyle said she had, one day, planned to be a lawyer, I actually stopped what I was doing to give my television my best “Whatchoo talkin’ about, Willis?” face. Just because Kyle has the moral turpitude of the subjects of those horrid Lawyer Jokes doesn’t mean she … oh, never mind. Again: I’m done. Good-bye.
Meanwhile, Kim reminisced about her child star past while she shopped for a graduation dress with a daughter who did not want to wear anything more than a tank top and underpants. Across town, Lisa picked up the “She’s Leaving Home” baton during a meal at which Pandora Spotify Limewire’s hot piece husbo told Lisa that he was considering a job in the wine and spirits business that was based in Manhattan. And junior was kind of mouthy in this scene, responding to his mother-in-law’s wistful acknowledgment that she sometimes thinks about moving back to France. “Then, you should go,” quoth Mr. Pandora. And he also laid out the most laughable excuse yet for taking a gig in NYC: that he’d looked for jobs in the “spirits and wine” industry in California, but came up short. Pally, I have three words for you: George Clooney’s Tequila. Guess what? I have two more words for you: Vanderpump Rules. Your mother-in-law owns two restaurants and is about to open a bar, and you can’t get a job on the West Coast marketing booze to Pete Seger fans? Buh, okay.
Then, David Foster, a huge douchebag who once hit Ben Vereen with his car, prepared for the ceremony in which he would graciously accept his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And all of the stars were out for this brouhaha — Kenny G! Natalie Cole! And, of course, Carole Bayer Sager and Carole Bayer Sager’s wig. Foster mentioned that his star would be geographically adjacent to those of the Beatles no fewer than twice, and then, in a speech, he interrupted himself to make sure everyone knew that Stevie Wonder was there, he called Buddy Holly “Buddy” and recalled a “funny” story in which he had the hubris to ask to be placed next to the Beatles.
This scene was intercut with footage of Kimberly graduating high school while Kim cried, explaining that she was “having visions” of when her child was a baby. Oh, and I should also mention that Kathy Hilton showed up earlier at Kim’s house to throw shade at her sisters while wearing a leopard-print duvet cover that Big Ang had recently retired from her living room on the basis of it being too cheap and stupid looking. So you can write it on the back of your hands: Kathy Hilton is an asshole, and her sisters are damaged lizard people.
And meanwhile, David Foster, who I find as disgusting as I find Yolanda delightful, actually had the judgment to say in his speech, as a preface to expressing his appreciation for Yolo, “It’s no secret that I’ve been married once or twice.” Pockets of the crowd chuckled politely, but there is no possible circumstance in which Foster should have joked about his terrible track record of not being able to treat women like human beings. Being unfaithful to a string of younger ex-wives is something any non-creep would be ashamed of. He also called Yo and her daughters his “new family,” which gave me jerk vibes. Finally, he name-checked Stevie Wonder again before it was photo time. Also, everybody in the crowd was blurred out, just as the background attendees at Kimberly’s graduation seemed to be competing with the Star ceremony for most impressionist-looking thing on a reality show ever since Padma’s Top Lilypads spinoff never made it past the pilot phase.
Finally, Brandi went bikini shopping with Lisa, because (1) they are going to Palm Springs soon and (2) apparently, I needed to see Brandi’s bare bathing-suit body after Thanksgiving weekend. Ugh. Thanks, Bravo. I’m eating a Celeste Frozen Pizza and Brandi is flashing her taut, bruised (?) flesh under three cloth triangles? Unfair, unfair, unfair.
During that scene, Brandi also told Lisa that she and Carlton made out in a hot tub, and Lisa was like “WHAT?” and Brandi was like, “shrug.” Um, more details please? Maybe next week.
And that’s about it! Unless I missed something. Did I miss something? Oh — there was this one thing from David Foster’s speech that drove me insane. It was humblebraggy and it had to do with his anecdote about wanting to be in Paul McCartney’s spot on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He told a story about how he asked the poor fucker in charge of doling out stars to jerks, and he recounted it suchly: “Well, is there space next to John, George, and Ringo, I nervously asked?” I’m not sure why, but for some reason, that part of Foster’s speech made me more confident than anything else that he is a raging sociopath. Maybe it’s his use of an adverb, maybe it’s the quasi-literary phrasing of the thing. I’m not sure. But somebody who says “I nervously asked” after quoting a thing they said, however grandiose, is simply asking for a life sentence in prison before he does any more harm to society. Blecch. Am I overreacting? I am probably not.
Please let me know what you thought of this week’s episode in the comments below! And I shall see you next week.