Welcome back to yet another edition of fakery and fuckery. How many franchises are there now, 6? Some busted, some played out, and then there's this one. It is on a whole other level. Don't believe me? Let's take a look at the bitches after the jump.
Introducing Taylor Armstrong, or what we will be calling Stretch. Too easy? Don't care. She's been pulled and prodded more than a strap handle on an olde timey streetcar.
It may look like I have it all, but I can still put more in my face!
Next is Lisa Van Der Pumpyerfistintheair. Oh wait, that's a different show with different accents. This one's a Brit. Like all Brits, she loves dogs more than people. She also has questionable taste in gowns.
In Beverly Hills, it's who you know and I know a really good tablecloth dressmaker.
Here is Adrienne Maloof. Notice that she didn't take her husband's last name. HER family owns The Kings, The Palms casino, and a record label. I'm calling her Ad for short, since this is just gonna be one long advertisement for her and her family's various businesses.
I shit money and Kings' fans eat it.
Kim's a grown up child star. She's sad, divorced with kids and no life. I wonder if she has much in the brains department. If so, she needs to put them to work and figure out how to qualify for welfare even though you get 6 figures in child support and alimony. Her 35 year old needs her own bedroom at home, dammit!
I was a child star, now I just spit them out of my womb.
Kyle Umansky. This one I've seen around. She was a child star just like her sister Kim, and I've seen her on the E! Channel talking about her scourge of a niece, Paris Hilton. She has little to no self-awareness and loves being the center of attention. If you told me that she somehow ended up in your parent's 50th wedding anniversary pictures, I'd believe you, especially if it was held next to a shopping center.
In a town full of phonies, I'm the one with the worst fake British accent.
Camille is gross. She has shitty opinions, doesn't understand the basic rules of conversation and probably doesn't know when her own kid's birthdays are. She can dance like a spastic stripper, though, and that has to count for something, right?
It's time for me to come out of my husband's shadow, and do the electric boogaloo on it.
Let us begin with Lisa. She is living my dream life. Her house is huge, and in need of two of my favorite things:
A cabana boy..
..and a pool boy.
Instead, she has Jiggy, a dog the size of a Beanie baby. I've pulled bigger critters out of mouse traps. And what a waste of a perfectly good opportunity to splurge on hired help! Hell, I wouldn't stop with those two positions. I'd have a dog walker, a page turner, and a tit fluffer to boot! Ms. VDP needs to get her priorities straight.
And stop feeding her stuffed animals.
I swear that I thought he was fake. What is he? Did some vet cross a Pomeranian with Teddy Ruskins? This is some EXTREME empty nest syndrome here. Not to mention the fact that she married her rich husband when she was 21 and has probably never had a single nasty thought forced on that pretty little head of hers.
Her kids are 24 and 18, are out of the house, and she's left at home with a husband she doesn't have to blow and a gay bestie that she probably wants to. Her hubby interviews that he hopes that Cedric the Mentertainer IS really gay since he spends an awful lot of time with her.
But calling your mini-pups Pikachu and Lollipop isn't?
There's some joke about Lisa being a sex object since she objects to sex so much, and you have to wonder. Can women subsist on shopping and puppies and drinking alone? I kinda like boners. I'd miss them if they were gone, but Mr. McSlore is good looking. Maybe if he looked like an anemic Albert Finney, I wouldn't want to fuck him either.
Here's the gay guy, Cedric, working out with Lisa.
He's vain, he tries to get her to compliment him and I hope he gets a damn job soon. No one gets to live in a mansion for free unless they like to earn joorey or pop out heirs. He's not that cute, either. He's okay. He isn't funny either. What is his purpose? Does Lisa just like having a token gay around? She sure could do better. Unless......he's really...
Boinking this guy.
You tell me.
I know they have a lot of rooms but one year, nine months, three weeks and whatever else, and he's still freeloading? Mummy Pumpy needs to exercise some tough love or at least hire someone that doesn't look better than her wearing a shirt that says 'Pinky.'
Okay. You thought that their house was big? Let's go across the street to Adrienne's.
Hers doesn't even fit on the screen.
That is some serious money right there. What do you think an acre of land costs in Beverly Hills, a million maybe? I'm willing to bet it's more than the O.C. but less than Manhattan.
And not enough to justify this.
She's back from Vegas, wandering the high ceilinged rooms of her mansion holding a plaque that she wants to show her husband. She calls his name down empty halls and peeks casually around corners festooned with drapery that costs more your college education. She finds him half a mile later in some outbuilding whose sole purpose seems to be kick boxing and humiliating trainer's sons.
The plaque she was carrying had a picture of Obama on it. I didn't catch what it was all about but I assume we have another housewife that met another president. At least this one doesn't represent drug dealers or live a life of ass-hat-ery grifterhood. Plus, if she said she raised money for Obama, I'd believe her.
She's a Democrat and her husband is a Republican. His name is Paul and he's a plastic surgeon.
What's the likelihood of THAT in L.A.?
He's obviously had his nose done. He has too much extra room between his nose and his mouth. It's the upper lip spread that happens when you change the natural proportions of your face too much. Too bad he forgot to do something about those huge ears of his. He could recycle the extra cartilage, save some money and stick it into Stretch's mouth.
Ad interviews that she and Paul keep their finances separate. Smart lady. I like that she has an identity of her own, unlike "I'm a Republican, whatever that means," Lauri Peterson, or "I do everything my husband tells me to or he'll take away my Joey Hetherton outfits," Pawn Preacher's wife.
Her face isn't as scary up close as I thought it would be. Plus, she plain old kicks ass, literally, as the picture earlier proves. Her voice oozes exotic bank accounts and I am pretty damn sure that she has no idea what her real hair color is. She moved to L.A., she became a blonde and she never looked back. And why should she? LOVE her. Knowing my luck, she'll turn into Jill Zarin.
She meets Stretch for coffee and invites her to attend a Kings' basketball game with her. I'm pretty sure that Stretch said yes. I wasn't listening. I was too busy waiting for the fruit roll-ups to fall out of her mouth skin. She looks like she just skipped the injections and asked her surgeon to implant an actual sex doll's labia into her lips.
I don't know what it is, Adrienne, but I can't keep my mouth off of lonely losers.
Her face is a mess. Her jaw sticks out more than her cheekbones and if she uses anymore filler, she won't be able to open her eyes. It's so obvious on this show which ones have overdone the botox and which ones tread the fine line a little more lightly. All you have to do is watch them smile. It's all teeth, and the lips stretch across and down, instead of up at the corners, like some alien kind of lopsided heaxagon, a trapezoidal geometric grimace which then settles into a overly plumped butt raisin.
Ad is her daughter Kennedy's Godmother. Stretch is positively giddy about it. If she and her middleaged mediocre looking hum drum bummer of a hubby go blammo in a bizarre Beverly Hills gas leak, why little miss not-the-political family-or-MTV-veejay Kennedy will be set for life!
Speaking of MTV, did you know that our next house-ho Camille was a bona-fide star on that network? Did she have a hit song, you ask? Have a spectacular run on Remote Control? No, silly! She was a Club MTV dancer! She shook her tushy to C&C Music Factory and did the shimmy for Soul 2 Soul!
She still loves to dance. It's how she expresses herself which is a relief since she hasn't quite mastered that whole putting words together to form a coherent sentence thing. She moves her body like a wet noodle, whipping her hair like a Smith child and snapping her wrists like a quadriplegic.
This takes up so much of her time that she has to have four nannies for two children, and she keeps one of them on site 24/7. With all that hustle and bustle, how does she manage their schedule? How can she possibly keep track of four employees AND keep herself fit and in Macarena-ready shape for that dancing gig that could come at the drop of a hat?
Camille is the grossest one of all, and that is saying A LOT. She says that people think they have her pegged as the wife of a celebrity but she's so much more than that. She's the princess of pop 'n lock, she can weave a tapestry in tap pants. She practically invented the hip thrust/side spin and was doing the Hustle in her Huggies, dontcha know! She popped out of her mommy's poonane prancing, and was at the forefront of flailing. She's the Bob Fosse of Go-Go and the Martha Graham of glitter tops. Bow down!
Wait, did you see her HOUSE? Yes, I had to capitalize the word. If Ad's won't fit into the frame and Lisa's has rooms she's never been in, this one had to be shot from a plane!
Kelsey is leaving. he hugs his kids like a good daddy and interviews that this is Camille's time to have the spotlight and get some well deserved attention of her own.
While Daddy fucks stewardesses.
He's going to New York to appear in La Cage Aux Folles on Broadway. Oh, and he's leaving for a YEAR. She looks at this as an opportunity to be her own person while the rest of us sit here yelling, "Mayday, Mayday!" for their marriage. Who in their right mind leaves their family for an entire year when they damn well could afford to move everyone lock, stock and foxtrot to dreary old Manhattan? Guys with wandering eyes, that's who, and can you blame him?
If you were interested in any more of Stretch's back story, it goes something like this: she left Oklahoma with big dreams, she is slowly disfiguring herself so that hubby Russell won't move on to fresher, more naturally lubed pastures, and she fears dying alone and poor. Fear is the operative word here and someone needs to tell her that it doesn't make it any less pathetic when you freely admit it.
She is not even in the Autumn of her life yet but she acts like it's do or die time. This is the moment that the producers choose to show some footage of a setting sun.
There's a really sad Elton John song in there somewhere.
Before she has dinner with her husband, she heads off to get some filler from Dr. Not-Maloof. What is his last name, anyway? Whatever. It doesn't matter. He should be taking HER name.
Ad accompanies her and freaks out after the first pin prick of Lidocaine. She's all, "what the hell is THAT?"
Honey, I've been asking myself the same thing.
He fills her up with collagen and caulk and I'm pretty sure that I saw him pouring some recycled motor oil into a syringe. She sits there in her Valium haze, not getting off on it like Mallard Mouth would, but clearly enjoying her imagined re-instored youthful skin. Her still swollen skin is bumpy and lumpy like a big bowl of oatmeal. How can she possibly think this will make her prettier?
Cream of Beat
At dinner with her venture capitalist husband Russell, he asks her about her "little company," and she gets pissed because he used the word 'little' to describe what I'm certain is a wonderfully respectable and flourishing 'High Level Management' start-up. When do we get to see her office, and her desk where's she's WORKING all crackie-like? I can't wait!
She gets even more pissed when she tells him that she had to find out from Forbes magazine that he put 10 million dollars into some chick named heather's 'little company' of her own.
So that's what we're calling vaginas these days.
Oy. How many marriages are going to make it alive out of this one? Anyone willing to hazard a guess? At least Kim has already gotten out of hers, even though she has four kids by three daddies, one of whom she had out of wedlock, how awful! Two marriages and one baby daddy?
It sure doesn't look like Kelsey Grammer.
Please, you know I could care less. Actually, with all the kids in their family, she probably gets knocked up by looking at NOVA footage of sperm. We get a montage of her child acting, on such Disney productions as Escape From Witch Mountain and The Nanny and the Professor.
She doesn't look like she's has any plastic surgery and she seems like one of those poor fools that falls head over heels for a guy without thinking first, gets knocked up and then scrambles to pick up the pieces when things don't work out. She has one awesome thing in her past that no one can ever take away from her, though.
She had her own Chuhy long before Chelsea.
That guy was her stand-in from her child acting days. How awesome is that? I can see how she might be a little out of touch with reality, unfortunately. They never made her go to school or join Girl Scouts or any of those bothersome things that you and I had to go through. She just showed up for work, smiled or frowned, picked up the paycheck and waited for her uterus to mature. Yipee!!
She has three girls and one boy.They are helping her pack up the house and go through old pictures. Here's a lovely photo of the young ladies.
Coming to a naked celebu-spawn website near you!
You know it's just a matter of time before some embarrassing Facebook pictures show up, or that asshole from The Dirty gets a hold of one of them doing a keg stand. It's a ho-hum rite of passage for these kids.
Kim tells a cute little story about a fan giving her props when she was out to lunch (what I couldn't do with that phrase here) with her niece, Paris. She was there before Paris, was famous first and makes a point of saying that, "Paris wanted to make a name for herself," instead of "Paris did a sex tape," or "Paris has no talent, unlike me."
She told that story with the gusto of a lonely out-of-work actress who is just dying for another close-up. Methinks she still has lots of acting to get out of her system.
Call it a hunch
But today she s looking at houses with her sister Kyle, since she got divorced and can't afford to live in her big home anymore. What is perfectly respectable for you and me, is a step down for her.
And a step UP for those renters in Atlanta.
Kim isn't terribly acquainted with reality, so she's perfect for reality TV! She needs 5 bedrooms in case one of her kids needs to crash. You wouldn't want the child of a child star to sleep on a convertible sofa, now would you? Blasphemy!
She and Kyle bicker about it and you can cut the tension with a knife, especially when Kim says it's too small since she might have to have another baby
in order to keep a man because she loves the little critters so much.
Before we get to Kyle's life story, Lisa tells her husband about the trip to Sacramento, and they fret over what to do with poor Jiggy.
I have three words for you, dahling: in-flight hors d'oevres.
I'm not a huge fan of tiny dogs. Could you tell? I'm always afraid that I'll sit on one or smash one behind the swinging kitchen door, only to find it six months later, petrified Pomeranian jerky in a fetching frilly coat. eek!
Here's Kyle's kiddie acting resume- Little House on the Prarie, and the horror movie Halloween! How cool is that? She played one of the kids Jamie Leigh Curtis was babysitting before a crazy person went all nutso on them.
So that's where she learned to handle being Paris's aunt.
Sadly, it didn't pay as well as gigs on Witch Mountain, and she and her family can only afford an average split-level on a totally ordinary cul-de-sac.
Tie those tubes and step away from the Kelly bags, screamer. Slurry had a nicer house.
Oh well. Not everyone can keep up with the Joneses, and you know I'm joking. There is nothing wrong with her home, even if Ad has bigger guest bathrooms than Kyle's entire house.
She has four girls, and says that she would work, get pissed off and have a baby, work, get pissed off and have a baby, ad nauseum. So, she's a giant hypocrite that gives her sister shit for not having a life outside of her kids, but uses hers to fill a hole not satisfied by work. I know a hole I'd like to fill.
But Portia already did it for me.
Did she name her daughter after a fabulous lesbian, or did she forget how to spell her sister's first car correctly? Maybe that's the car she was driving to work at 13 and MAYBE that's where she conceived her first born, and maybe I'm reaching. Moving on- she's married to a hottie named Mauricio who sells super deluxe real estate.
I've got a piece of property you might want to take a look at, Mr. Real Estate King.
How is it that he sells 100 million dollar homes yet he can only afford to house his family in someplace only slightly larger than a duplex? Well, I'm not going to give him too much shit for it. it was a good move considering the economy and how the bottom fell out of the mortgage business,
and the wife's spending habits,
and those expensive rounds of golf.
I hear you, buddy. He interviews that their major bone of contention is her inability to control herself around the local Le SportSac stores, and hers is that he golfs in all his spare time. he agrees to allow her a thousand bucks in exchange for an hour of golf. Sounds reasonable to me, on both ends! Dude should have met ME first. I'll add oral interludes and only ask for a thousand total, PLUS I'll let him beat me at golf.
It's time to fly to Sacramento, the land of pantomime animals and teams that regularly play second fiddle to their more southern counterparts. Ad has chartered a private plane for everyone, which is super nice of her. She makes a toast to their trip and to the Maloof backed Kings.
Here's to having enough money to buy the perfectly wonderful red headed stepchild of teams!
Kim didn't get the memo. She yells, "Go Lakers!" Ugh, but does Kim ever get the memo? She's got the social skill equivalent of a malnourished stunted Ethiopian child.
And fewer friends.
This is going to come out all wrong, but, um, Camille is a CUNT. She doesn't want to sound bitchy or anything, but she and Kelsey flew private for years until they watched Ed Begley on the Green Channel or read about that movie Al Gore made and decided to be all environmental like and only fly commercial. Not to be rude or anything, YOU KNOW.
Huge mansions are Green, right? I only use four drivers, on a rotating basis, of course.
Kyle is afraid of flying. She enlists the Power of the Zohan to ensure a safe flight. I din't know there was a book for that! I figured that when the movie bombed, no one would be interested in reading the book....what's that you say? It's Zohar? Okay, I'll chalk that up to more religious stuff that I could give a crap about.
She's squirming and gazing around the cabin like we're supposed to believe that she isn't riding a cloud of Ativan already, and then Lisa can't resist poking fun at her when she asks how all her praying is going to help them when the pilot loses control.
At least there's someone at the helm of THAT object
Kim tells Kyle to be quiet. it's her turn to pray. Geez, with all the religiousing this family does, you'd think someone would have asked God to intervene and save us all from the herp sore that is Paris.
Nope, too busy praying the dust off those old ovaries.
Jiggy is thirsty.
Jiggy only drinks from the caps of the finest spring water.
I hope she filed down the edges of that bottle cap. We don't want Jiggy getting all jagged in the tongue, now do we?
On the other side of the plane, Kyle and Taylor are talking babies. They actually birthed theirs. Camille didn't. She paid some out of work desperate non-housewife in MTV videos and sports bras to carry hers for her. That way she doesn't ruin her figure, natch! I'm not sure what she meant when she said that it's a "positive experience if you can." Was she referring to the other ladies' ability to carry their own, or is another dig at how much better she is for outsourcing the work and helping our limping economy. Such a do-gooder, this one!
They finally land, no one dies and they are whisked off to lunch where Kyle's second round of anxiety meds kick in. She falls in love with a squash and awkwardly tries to get the others to do the same. Honey, if that's what Mauricio is packing, you better get better locks, Twunty's coming. Or better yet, move to a gated community.
Locks are powerless against a hungry cunt.
Speaking of hungry cunts, what's Camille up to? Oh, that's right, she's breaking out on her own and asserting her amazing personality, free from the looming shadow of a sit-com star. How? By referring to a certain commando sit-com star! You see, when Frasier traipsed around the set of his show, he liked to do so sans BVDs. Or, as Miss Jane Leeves (I assume) referred to it as not "covering up his rat."
Camille just blurts this out, completely out of the blue as they are discussing Kyle's horrible British accent. In a much more horrible british accent, I might add. Was she even trying to sound British, because if she wasn't, then why did the bimbo bring it up?
We shouldn't be so hard on her. She's no trophy wife! She saved his life, you know. He had a heart attack and she mustered all her powers of writhing to revive him. Or was he on drugs and she just got really good at hiding them from him? She didn't say.
Throughout this bizarre luncheon, the only person really eating was Kim. She sat in the corner talking to Nanny and practicing to be a shut-in. Girl is goofy. Clearly she needs to get out more. CLEARLY.
They finally go up to the Maloof suite for more alcohol and they meet one of Ad's brothers, Gavin. he isn't bad looking, though he's on the short side. Who cares?
Money's plenty tall if you stack it high enough.
And you know he's as tall as Ron Artest money-wise. The girls get their picture taken with the star, looking all shiny and happy, some shinier and happier than others. I did notice something weird.
Has Ad been rifling through Madonna's cast-offs?
Camille is in show-off mode, dribling with a midget before the game, then dancing with the mascot. Her moves are spectacular.
Congratulations, Camille! You gave that kid his first boner!
The ladies are pretty obnoxious, and Kyle starts rooting for the Lakers, only to get elbowed in the arms by Lisa and Ad.
In the mouth, ladies, in the MOUTH.
Kimmy the Shut-In is busy the whole time. She's rifling in her purse, reapplying lipstick and carrying on important conversations about egg freezing and man trapping with the chair next to her. Stretch needs to back off and not get so upset when Kimmy ignores her.
You're lucky she doesn't try to rifle through you, ya old bag.
I wouldn't want to be looking at that face for three hours either, would you? I place the blame on Kyle. She left her hanging in the wind at the end of the row. Not once did she break out of her attention starved behaviour to include her in the conversation. Not once did we see her reach out to her, other than to try and give her a 'party favor' at lunch.
Then back at home, she shows up at Kim's to help her move and tries to lay a guilt trip on HER. Kyle just threw her into a situation and if she's too shy to handle it, tough, she's a big girl, right?
Ugh, that was mean. I wouldn't be surprised if Kyle views her as an albatross and secretly hopes she leaves the show. She promised their dead mother that she's look after her, and she's probably sick of it. I can't judge too harshly, at least not yet. Sisters can be tricky, and witches can be bitchy.
Long, long after the fame.
Oh boy. This is going to be a good season. How could it not be? It has everything and then some. I'm so glad that Bravo has finally gone back to it's roots and found some wealthy fucked up hos. They are so much more fun to watch and even more enjoyable to make fun OF. Till next time, as always,
Love and Kisses,