The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
This week on our favorite program Rich Women Doing Things, the rich women did things. They watched their husbands eat Lay’s Potato Chips out of the bag and then wipe their grubby Vienna-sausage fingers on their sweaters even though they’re not supposed to be eating potato chips in the first place because they might die of beeties. (Or is it have diabetes?) They place stories in People magazine about who did and did not show up at their weddings in Hawaii. They received wedding gifts of expensive tequila from their friends because nothing says “Have a long and fruitful union” like a shit-ton of expensive alcohol.
When Denise’s husband, Aaron, unwraps the gift from Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin, it comes with a note that jokes about their “happy endings.” That means Denise has to explain to Aaron that she told all of the women about his trip to the massage parlor, which doesn’t excite Aaron that much. There is something that is both unbothered but also boundary-setting about Aaron that makes his handsomeness even more appealing. Then he tells Denise how awkward his massage was because the woman who did it was “200 years old.” I’m sorry that Aaron’s one time with a dirty massage had to be with Melisandre the day she left her necklace at home. Cue all the Katniss Everdeen GIFs because I volunteer to give him a rub and tug that will make up for all of it. I promise. Oh, I promise it will.
We can’t get too dirty, though, because this episode has some real scares, and I’m not just talking about the poor wannabe actor that Kyle paid to hide in her bushes and jump out at everyone during her Halloween party. (I don’t know if you realize this, but this vampire is the brother of the mermaid from Pandora’s engagement party.) Lisar and Kyle go to get mammograms, and they’re both on edge because both of their mothers have had breast cancer and Kyle’s mother died from the disease. Lisa gets her results back, and everything is good with her boobs, including her implants, which are definitely older than some of the nurses working in the clinic.
Kyle is not so lucky. The technician informs her that they need a few more images because they found something suspicious in her test. Of course Kyle really starts to freak out, as anyone would. Luckily, it all turns out fine, but those few tense moments, with Kyle pacing around the empty clinic and looking for anything that could possibly soothe her, are extremely intense. Naturally, I’ve never had a mammogram, but I’ve waited through some inconclusive HIV tests and know just what that anxiety is. That moment, the one that seems as far off as it is inevitable — finally happening and throwing our whole world into disarray. It’s the fear we have every time we go into a doctor’s office or make the stupid decision to go to WebMD and start searching for symptoms.
That is some far-too-real television, and I don’t want my rich women doing those things. I’m glad they did (and I’m more glad they’re fine), but, hoo-baby, I am not here for medical catastrophes. I am here for Kim Richards looking like a drowned hobo getting into a fight with Lisa Rinna dressed as Erika Jayne at a non-white party in Kyle Richards’s backyard.
Kyle’s party really delivered, though I was sad that we only got the smallest glimpse of Glen, her party planner, who has been with us much longer than any of the silent friends that St. Camille of Grammer is always dragging to events with her. The party seems excessive but also really fun, so I’m not going to complain that she has an entire Ferris wheel in her backyard. What I will complain about is that she has flown her daughter Sophia back from Washington, D.C., where she attends college, twice during the school year. She’s only been there for two months, and she’s already been home twice?! I get that she didn’t want to miss her sister’s big 30th-birthday party, but did Kyle need to fly her home for the family Christmas-card photo shoot, too? Couldn’t they do that photo shoot the day after the Halloween party and just combine two trips into one?
The costumes for the party are phenomenal. Kyle and Mo decide to dress as a Playboy Bunny and Hugh Hefner, which is about as basic as drinking a pumpkin-spice latte on your way to an Instagram poppy field, but I’ll give Kyle a pass because she looks absolutely amazing. This lady has a 30-year-old, and she rocked that outfit. While I love Trashy Lingerie (the store, not the concept), I can’t believe Kyle paid nearly $700 for that costume. Actually it’s closer to $1,400, because of the one she ripped that can’t be returned and the second one she has Ubered over 20 minutes before the party is about to start.
Cats seem to be a theme, with Erika Jayne arriving as a slinky cheetah (a little underwhelming considering her usual sartorial accomplishments), Camille as Catwoman, her friend Kimber as a silent feline, and Dorit as Choupette, the late Karl Lagerfeld’s millionaire pussy. Denise is giving us Little Bo Peep realness, Teddy and Edwin are serving Harley Quinn and the Joker at least two seasons too late, and the morally corrupt Faye Resnick is dressed as a slutty Harry Potter or something. I don’t know.
The real winner, though, is Lisa Rinna, who shows up as Erika Jayne at Coachella, and Erika’s “You bitch, you dressed as me,” as soon as she arrives, has so much love and joy in it that I’ll never stop hearing it. I’ve never had a friend dress up as me for Halloween, but maybe that just means that my look isn’t iconic enough. What is kind of annoying, though, is that she keeps “acting” like Erika Jayne and being mean and haughty. Yes, Erika can be mean and haughty, but Lisar doesn’t capture any of the playfulness that Erika also has. It just comes across like her being a bit of a jerk.
Of course, this is most pronounced when they’re taking a group photo and Lisar, as Erika, says, “Giving Lisa her bunny back was really cunty.” Yes, that statement is entirely correct, but to bring it up in this way, under the cover of playing a character, in front of all of Kim’s friends and family, doesn’t seem right, either. This immediately upsets Kim, because, of course, Kim Richards can’t take responsibility for any of her actions and would rather just be aggrieved about what Lisa Rinna said to her.
Denise is obviously hilarious when she’s talking to Kim and Kyle, and Kim comes after Lisa’s Erika Jayne costume. Denise’s take is basically, “Say what you want about Lisa’s behavior, but her costume is on point.” Oh, Denise. We need Denise to start getting into these tussles if she wants to be a good Housewife, but she’s so much better above the fray looking down on it and just rolling her eyes. Everyone tells Denise she doesn’t get it, and she’s like, “Whatever, it’s some stuffed bunny, get over it.”
The most damning thing about her conversation with Kim, though, is that Denise tells her that it really hurt Lisar’s feelings when she returned the bunny and Kim says it didn’t. Does Kim think she lied about that? Does Kim think she doesn’t really care and is pretending? If you could view any person like that, then your grasp on empathy and human values is so skewed that I don’t think there is any hope for you and you should just chain yourself to that Ferris wheel and wait for the carnies to come cart you away somewhere.
Finally, Kim does the bigger thing and approaches Lisar so that they can have a moment together to talk about what is going on between them. It seems like they’re both waiting for the Apology Express to arrive but neither of them has bought train tickets. They’ve both done awful things to each other in the past, and debating who is going to make those things right first seems like a stupid reason to hold onto this grudge. They decide, under the floating ghoul that is a wax version of the Widow Armstrong, that they’re going to bury everything in the past and move forward.
With that, the evening mist settled a little bit lighter, the lights on the Ferris wheel shone a little bit brighter, and Brad, the poor vampire who had been hiding in a hedge for the past three hours, took out his fake fangs, cleaned off his makeup with a Wet Wipe, and got in a Lyft back to his shitty apartment in Silver Lake that he shares with three other wannabe actors. “My work here is done,” he thought, taking a bite out of the Fatburger that had been cooling and congealing in his pocket for most of the night.