In my first recap of the season, I lamented that what I usually love about UGT is that it makes me see the women differently and I wasn’t really getting that this season. (And speaking of past recaps, a big thanks to Tom Smyth for filling in at the last minute last episode when I, too, was almost dead on the floor of a tie-dye boutique in Old Phuket Town.) Well, I take it all back. Like a bisexual at an orgy, I am switching teams left and right over here. I usually am a Gizelle partisan and loathe Candiace as much as George Santos loathes fact-checkers. No longer! I have always defended Heather Gay in favor of Whitney. No longer! I was happy to see Leah go from RHONY, but now I want her back for RHONY: The Glue Factory Closed. What is even happening here?
It is a real feat for these women to get me to like Candiace and Leah, and they’re the only ones I’m really pulling for. Also Pepsi. Oh, poor sweet Pepsi. He organizes Muay Thai boxing for all the women, and only Heather, Whitney, and Leah attend while Gizelle looks on from the peanut gallery in the pool. Then he organizes a trip to a local lunch spot, where they yell and scream at one another in public, scaring away all business except for some very nosy Canadian tourists. (If they were American, they would have had their cameras out and been shouting “World Star!” the whole time.) As they’re screaming, Pepsi is disassociating in the corner, trying to find a way to get his incandescent smile back.
I also feel awful for Leah. There is nothing worse than getting sick on vacation. (See above about why Tom had to fill in.) But period runs?! As a penis-owner, I’ve never had, and will never have, a period, but I can only imagine that it is not fun at best and absolutely miserable at worst. Add anything to that and it sucks: Period migraine. Period stubbed toe. Period paper cut. Any of those is probably enough to lay me up until the next month’s period comes along. But period poops? Get me on the first plane back to my house, where I can shit and bleed all over myself in peace! (A note to all period-having folks: Thank you, and I’m sorry.)
Then we get to the episode’s big fight, which is Gizelle’s missing bottle of Clase Azul tequila. Like Gizelle, I am a very picky eater and drinker. (I am a much less picky smoker, so I would have hoovered up everything in the Thai weed shop that Whitney, Heather, and Candiace patronize.) If I brought something on a trip and it was all I wanted, I would be a little miffed if someone else took it. However, unlike Gizelle, my first inclination would not be that someone “stole” the bottle. I would assume it was misplaced or someone had taken it — not knowing that it was the only thing I wanted. I would have individually gone up to every person in the house and said, “I know it’s crazy that it is the only thing I drink. Do you know where it went?”
Not our Gizzy. She even gets sweet as Thai-Iced-Tea Pepsi to say that it was probably pilfered. Porsha shouts, “Not Pepsi with the tea.” Porsha, do not give PepsiCo, the corporation that brought us alcohol-free sparkling rosé, any free ideas. If I see Pepsi Tea in a gas-station refrigerator-cabinet, I will show up at your house with Leah, who will do the period runs on your front lawn. Anyway, Gizelle decides that, at lunch, she’s going to launch a huge investigation into who has the bottle. Yes, because why would Gizelle bother doing anything the nice way when she could do things the dramatic way? (Thank you for your service, but maybe not this time.)
After a stop-off at the offerings store, where Marysol buys a Costco amount of incense for the temple they’re visiting the next day, they head off to a boutique where sweaty, poopy, period-y Leah passes out and is taken into a van for some air-conditioning and relaxation. I get that Gizelle and Candiace are calling her Poor Leah; she is one of those people who seems to court things happening to her. She has never been in a situation where she hasn’t wrung out every bit of drama possible. Do I think she’s faking any of these ailments? No. But I could see how a vacation with such a person could be a little bit annoying.
At lunch, sans Leah, Gizelle starts her investigation into the bottle disappearance, telling Candiace, Heather, and Marysol that they’re the three main suspects. How funny. The only people that Gizelle suspects are the two that she hates and the one who is so proudly an alcoholic she got a worm tattooed over her belly button so that she’d look like a bottle of tequila even when she’s naked. Gizelle then demands that everyone has their room searched. Excuse me? What is this — an eighth-grade trip to Washington, D.C., where they put tape on the outside of your door at night to make sure no one is leaving after lights out? They are adults. This is a bottle of tequila. If they don’t want to confess, there isn’t much you can do.
As that fight fizzles out, Candiace starts another one, asking Porsha why she posted a picture of the whole cast but tagged everyone but Candiace and Leah. As Candiace predicted, Porsha starts with “I don’t have to explain my Instagram to you.” Ugh, the coyness is annoying. On the bus ride over, Candiace and Leah were right: The worst kind of shade is passive-aggressive shade. If Porsha didn’t tag them for a reason, say it. Just do it. Just be mean to these people’s faces — don’t hide behind this silliness. Eventually, she does, so credit to Porsha.
However, the fight takes a turn when Candiace accuses her of cyberbullying. Do I think what Porsha did was cyberbullying? No. Do I consider what she does to them, and what the group continues to do to Candiace and Leah, as bullying? Maybe! It’s undoubtedly a pile-on, and it’s certainly mean-girl behavior. I take Candiace’s point. They all sat around and talked about how social media was the hardest part of being a Housewife. Now Porsha goes onto her account, where she has the most followers (and where posting a cast picture had to be approved by producers, I assume), and tags everyone but Candiace and Leah. That is a sign to her stans that Porsha hates those two. Now, before even seeing the show, they will start harassing those two women and say awful things to them because, essentially, Porsha told them to. She can deny it, just like Donald Trump can deny sending the mob to the Capitol, but she put the idea right there.
Porsha starts taunting her. “Are you hurt? Are you hurt?” she yells at her. She likens her to her small daughter, saying she needs Pedialyte. Porsha’s only criticism? She is used to people she can converse with — not Candiace, who yells over everyone. Um, I have seen Porsha’s show; all they do is yell over one another. As Candiace points out, everyone at that table has yelled over someone at some time, including the Mormons, who are the nicest people on this planet. Porsha asks Candiace why every time they talk, they go from one to 1,000. I can answer that: Porsha has had it out for Candiace from the moment the cameras went up and is pretending she hasn’t. She’s trying to wind Candiace up so much so that Candy looks like the villain and she comes off looking good.
When they return to the house, Gizelle wants everyone’s rooms searched. Well, not everyone — just Candiace. She’s getting Pepsi involved. She involves the producers (including one named West, who has guns so impressive they’re not banned in any American state). She goes to Candiace’s room herself and tears through her drawers until she finds her bottle of tequila.
I have always loved Gizelle, but this is just gross. How is she so sure Candiace stole it? She has no evidence, or at least she hasn’t presented any. If she has a case, it is as flimsy as Leah’s skirt with all the holes cut out. Gizelle is pressing the producers to rifle through Candiace’s suitcase. She doesn’t want someone just scanning the room; she says she wants someone invested. Sorry — but just like everyone with a Coinbase wallet, she is overinvested in this space. Usually, I would side with Gizelle; if you have nothing to hide, why not let her in? But this time, I’m with Candiace. If I say I don’t have your bottle, then I don’t have it. Why would I take it, and why would I lie? (Cut to the next episode, in which Candiace makes a fool of me and pulls the bottle out of her giant Goyard tote.)
As the two women scream at each other over something that happened on their season that has nothing to do with the actual bottle of tequila, we see Pepsi in the confessional. His face has cracked; his smile is gone; he rubs his bald head, not knowing what to do. He says he can never say no to the guests, but how can he keep telling Gizelle that her bottle is nowhere to be found? “I don’t like them having rude conversations,” he whispers to the camera as if he’s talking to himself.
