Can you really say you’re going on a life-changing transatlantic journey to watch your Scandinavian cousin perform at her album-release party to affirm the power of family with five of your best co-worker frenemies if you haven’t assembled elaborate invite-baskets for your guests? For the accompanying cards, Cary has even looked up how to say “join me” in Danish, and the computerized translation voice’s response sure sounds an awful lot like “Satan in me.” (Glædelig Halloween!)
And so she sends off a Danish, a beer, and a jar of pickled herring to each of her pals, all of whom gag at the sight of the fish, with the exception of Brandi, who doesn’t just gag, but also likens its smell to a “dirty twat.” This vacation promises to be an open-minded culinary journey for us all.
LeeAnne goes wedding dress shopping with Stephanie and two additional blonde friends, thereby achieving a quorum of three, satisfying Texas state bridal law. LeeAnne says she wants a “clean and basic and boring” gown, which, to her, I can only imagine means, yeah, duh, something soaked in the blood of her enemies, but maybe with only a single tactical Kevlar corset layer, and also maybe an illusion neckline. LeeAnne envelops herself in some Snow Queen bedazzled icicle glamour before announcing that D’Andra declined to attend via text.
I’m getting married in six months, which I will never not find a way to mention to you, dear reader, here in these recaps, and this is a capital offense. (By the way, do you guys want to see a picture of my wedding dress?) But the plot thickens, much like the increasingly deep stratum of ketchup atop Mama Dee’s meatloaf. Later, at Kameron’s house, where LeeAnne is served a glass of on-brand pink rosewater, the bride-to-be reads D’Andra’s text aloud. We’re even shown a close-up of the message. I submit Exhibit A [sic]:
“I have a full day already and can’t change my schedule. Lots to do before tomorrow. I’m sure Stephanie will be a great person to be there and advise on Style etc. since she has such great taste.”
Something about the phrasing here struck me as odd: ”I have a full day already” and “lots to do before tomorrow” sound like what you might say in response to a same-day invitation, which — according to federal law, which supercedes Texas state bridal law — is nonbinding.
For Exhibit B, we turn to Instagram. Here’s a photo of LeeAnne and her two non-Stephanie blonde friends, wearing the very same outfits they did at the bridal boutique. The caption explains that LeeAnne is supporting her pal Kim Fischer, who was speaking at the Conference on Crimes Against Women. According to the official CCAW 2018 program, Kim’s talk took place on April 18 from 8 to 9:30 a.m. They must have gone dress shopping after that.
We know what time LeeAnne received D’Andra’s text, thanks to that closeup: 9:57 a.m. on the same day, April 18. So, therefore … I don’t know. This proves literally nothing, except the fact that I spent way too much time investigating this. I move that we appoint a special prosecutor.
Anyway, an offended LeeAnne and a vicariously offended Kameron trot out a classic vaudeville-circuit bit from their double act.
LEEANNE: “Who is this?”
KAMERON: “Who is too busy?”
LEEANNE: “Who is she?”
KAMERON: “This is not someone we know.”
LEEANNE: “I don’t know this person.”
KAMERON: “It’s psycho!”
LEEANNE: “It’s psycho, man!”
KAMERON: “There’s something psycho going on, girl!”
Over at the international headquarters of Simmons Ladies Beauty Products or Something LLC Inc. & Co., I am genuinely surprised and delighted to witness Dee (who can be, shall we say, a little tough on D’Andra) enter batshit Mama Bear Mode on behalf of her daughter. She is ready to defend D’Andra’s non-alcoholism to her death, and has seemingly shed the affectionate patience that led her to invite LeeAnne to her cooking lesson.
“Don’t take it. Be mean if you have to be mean. You may have to get a little hard skin!” she rants to to her only child of her detractors. “Don’t be a patsy! Stand up for yourself!”
I’m sorry to report that Dee does not say anything about giving a rip, be it a dog’s or otherwise, but she does offer this excellent and new-to-me Southern aphorism: “Tell me how the cow ate the cabbage!” (By the way, I swear to God, “Give a rip” was the answer to 60-across in Tuesday’s New York Times crossword. I nearly shit a K-cup.) After watching this scene I feel like Liz Lemon post–Designing Women marathon. You do not cross a Sugarbaker, slash Simmons, woman.
Before LeeAnne and D’Andra’s feud began, LeeAnne convinced a local resale shop to host a retro pajama-themed party for Hard Night, Good Morning. As D’Andra — looking very cute in her Joan Collins nightgown and silky headband — works the crowd and passes out whatever kind of disgusting green shots her business is founded on, Dee warns Brandi and Cary to look after D’Andra in Denmark, or else, “Everybody’s gonna wish they were dead.”
“Okay,” Cary responds.
In fact, Dee adds, she wishes she could tag along as “referee” on their trip to “Sweden.” Yes, I am romantically in love with Dee Simmons, who spends the rest of the part smile-yelling at LeeAnne that she’s “hurting” D’Andra and informing Brandi that, according to the Locken Times-Picayune, she too is an “alcoholic.” (Cary, briefly transforming back into a gossip sieve, will later confirm that LeeAnne did, in fact, use the A-word.) Given that Bruin’s adoption isn’t 100 percent final yet, Brandi would prefer that we collectively put a hold on any rumors to the effect that she’s an unfit parent, thank you very much. This trip to Swedenmark is going to be great!
But before we take off, I nearly forgot about Stephanie and Travis’s vow renewal! Stephanie looks beautiful in her original wedding dress; Cruz makes a very cute wedding bearer. I don’t have much to tell you about this, probably because it is sweet and emotional, except perhaps for the part where Travis requests “butt sex” in front of his mother-in-law. (The traditional 10th anniversary gift is aluminum; butt sex is normally reserved for the 20th).
At the airport, everyone upgrades themselves to first class, except D’Andra and LeeAnne. On the bright side, for all the other passengers who’d prefer their flight not be interrupted by a woman smashing her head in rage through a window at 35,000 feet, they aren’t sitting together.
See you in Swedenmark!