After the Battle of Monkey Butt, just about everyone you would expect to sympathize with Margaret sympathizes with Margaret, and just about everyone you would expect to sympathize with Jennifer sympathizes with Jennifer. Poolside, Margaret pulls up a photo of an actual monkey’s asshole (specifically, I’m pretty sure, this monkey’s asshole) on her phone to show Jackie and Dolores, because STEM education is important.
Fueled by sangria and shots, Teresa, Melissa, Jennifer, and Danielle do some souvenir shopping and rehash last night’s argument. Jennifer tries to defend her tequila-enhanced jewelry appraisal with some kind of ill-considered drunk words are sober thoughts line of argument. No, Melissa explains, “You say stupid shit.”
You don’t need me to tell you that a grave human-rights violation is being perpetrated before our very eyes: Entire minutes have passed since anyone brought up how horribly, how cruelly, how heartlessly Margaret has treated Danielle. And Danielle can it abide it no longer. “There’s a reason her stepkids don’t speak to her,” she says, which, ouch. Melissa points out that it’s unnecessarily “malicious” to involve Margaret’s children.
“Beware, just fucking beware,” Danielle snaps, storming off. Danielle, you see, has a rare medical condition that causes her to have a meltdown every three-and-a-half hours, regardless of who or what she happens to be interacting with at that time.
Teresa, hilariously, defends Danielle, as if she wouldn’t go fucking insane if someone maligned her relationship with her daughters — remember last season, when her sister-in-law suggested she could maybe exercise a little more parental discipline?
Jennifer licks Danielle’s wounds because, as she explains to the camera, she just doesn’t see why everyone’s hating on Danielle! Jennifer, may I refer you to the back catalog of a television program called The Real Housewives of New Jersey? There’s only one proven way to have a good relationship with Danielle: Flip a table while screaming “prostitution whore” at her, then wait eight years.
Considering that what transpired between Margaret and Jennifer has been all anyone has been physically capable of talking about all day, it’s no surprise that, reunited at dinner, they play some of what has already been established as their crowd-pleasing golden oldies.
“That’s why your husband sleeps in the fucking pool house,” Margaret shouts in response to I honestly could not tell you what — for that matter I’m not sure she could, either.
“It doesn’t bother me where the fuck he sleeps!” Jennifer yells back.
“Whether it’s in his girlfriend’s bed or not,” Marge says.
“You better shut the fuck up with that,” Jennifer screams, pointing violently in Margaret’s general direction before leaving the table altogether. This touched a nerve, to say the least. (I don’t think I’m alone in thinking back to her red flag of a comment about Bill’s touchy-feely patients last week and cringing.)
Margaret immediately admits that she doesn’t actually have any intel about Bill’s alleged infidelity; she was just trying to be a bitch in the heat of the moment. (Relatable.) When Jennifer comes back, Margaret tells her as much and apologizes. Jennifer understands. That was surprisingly easily resolved! I’m sure the rest of the trip will go off without a hitch, the recapper typed, as storm clouds gathered over her television.
The next day, the women are forced to ride camels on the beach. The general mood is one of unease. I have spent five minutes trying to come up with a pun that successfully combines “dread” and “dromedaries,” but I am sorry to report I have failed you.
For good luck, Teresa wears a rosary, which would have gotten me in big trouble in Catholic school, and what looks like one of those Instagram crochet bikinis from that crazy New York Times story. The guide teaches the women to feed the camels jicama from their own mouths, Lady and the Tramp style. Between monkey assholes and camel lips, this season of RHONJ counts as anatomy course credit toward your veterinary degree.
Teresa in particular proves to be a natural camel rider, if only because she likes the way it feels on her “chow-cha” (I listened to this particular vagina euphemism four times and this is the best phonetic rendering I’ve got). “I have to say,” Melissa coquettishly informs the camera in a confessional, “Riding the camel is not that much different than riding Joe.” I’m genuinely unclear as to whether she meant this as a compliment to her husband, and if so … how?
Margaret and Jennifer are getting along fine, so over dinner, Danielle and Teresa take it upon themselves to defrost their seemingly resolved beef. Yes, Marge may have promptly apologized for suggesting Bill cheats, but “you don’t say fucking things like that,” argues Tre, a woman who is famed around the world for never having said anything regrettable. Danielle, for her part, basically shouts “monkey ass lips” into the void, and then taunts Margaret about not having a relationship with her kids.
“They are not around you!” Danielle screams and screams until Margaret throws a glass of red wine — red wine! Shades of Tamra! — in her face. Danielle, always down to escalate, throws an actual wine glass back, although thankfully she misses Margaret’s face. Congratulations to Danielle for satisfying that tricky “smashing glassware in a restaurant in a foreign country” clause in her contract for a second consecutive season!
In the immediate aftermath, Melissa and Teresa accuse each other of drinking Margaret’s and Danielle’s respective “Kool-Aid.” (I’m going to say Marge is a pink lemonade kind of gal, whereas Danielle strikes me as more of a cyanide fruit punch.) Then, in an extremely confusing development, Melissa mistakenly says that Jennifer, not Danielle, threw the glass.
Drunk Jen doesn’t appreciate this. Weird flex but okay: Jennifer sneers, “If I threw a glass at you, sweetheart, you would know it.” Weirder flex, not okay: Jen proceeds to indeed smash a glass and wave the broken stem around. I guess the decor for Jennifer’s red-themed anniversary party will be painted in the blood of her frenemies.
