Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Real Housewives of Orange County Recap: Life Is Change, Growth Is Optional

Here we are again in Orange County with the original plate of bullshit pie known as The Housewives. Was it just five years ago when I first found myself throwing Nabisco products at my television? Only five? It seems like ten, especially in HD. Tamra's skin is continuing the timeless SoCal practice of morphing into particle board and Crackie's droopy jowels are sliding southward faster than Slade when he sees a process server. I will give Crackie one thing, though. She doesn't tan her hide like a teen on Spring break, although she does party like one.

Things have changed a lot this year, even if the women haven't, and like herpes, they just won't go away!

Everyone shot new Intro lines this year, so I am re-introducing them to you too! It's only fair, right?

I'm hotter than a tin roof on a trailer, and just as classy!

At this point, I'm only doing this for the free spray tans.

God is 1st, Jimbo is 2nd, my brats are 3rd and bras are optional.

Is there a penis under this dress? Only Charlie Sheen knows.

Happiness means never having to apologise for dating a deadbeat.

Did you notice that Tamra isn't posing with her Blarney sired buggers in her intro? Just old Rapey Eyes. I bet Simon put the kibosh on them appearing on the show, and it's probably why she's decided to have her little party at her boyfriend's house instead of her rented townhouse. That, and the fact that she doesn't want the ladies to see her in a place barely bigger than Gretchen's. You know that has to burn, joy!

We have to have some sort of shindig to bring all the hos together this season, since they do not see each other when they aren't filming. Gone are the days when everyone actually knew each other. Gone are the days when there was history and depth to the relationships. Among these women, the longest relationship is between Crackie and Tamra and they met on this show! 

The wilting flower known as Tamra has decided to host this year's version since Simon isn't around to embarrass or throw passive aggression her way anymore. She invites Mallard Mouth first so we get an early dose of Christianity being twisted and/or used as a way to judge others when it's convenient. See, biblically, you're not supposed to divorce. Tamra is divorcing. Therefore, Tamra is the devil. Gotcha.

I'm a crafty little devil, too. I made this blouse out of an old boudoir pillow.

Tamra also likes to stab people in the back and pour salt in their wounds, according to Crackie. But, Crackie will come to the party because God knows these hos need their airtime when they aren't bickering with their spouses or ignoring their children. God knows. Plus, who else is she on speaking terms with? NOBODY.

Next she calls Gretchen and Gretchen answers. I was like, What? Why would she answer a call from Tammy Sue? Did she step in some Slade, slip and hit her head? What's that you say? Tamra changed her number and Gretchen didn't recognise it? Oh. I would have been all "crackle crackle hiss hiss," then hung up, but I'm mature and classy like that.

It's a WTF moment and Gretchen agrees to come as long as she can laugh like a hyaena and spew Tequila fumes and insecurity all over the back porch. Woo Hoo, everybody! I hope she's smart and paces herself with some well-timed trips to pray to the porcelain God. It's not like she doesn't have practice. 

Oh, that was mean. I'm sorry. I'm still pissed at iTunes. I'll blame it on that just like Tamra blames all her bitchiness on being in a shitty marriage.

So, we're two minutes in and it's already time for a Gretchen Christine Bowtay infomercial, only now that her make-up line is doing so well (lie #113), she's branched out into duffel bags. She calls them purses but since I can fit everything I need for a weekend trip in one of them and still have room for a Bota Box, it's luggage.

She's meeting with a video coach who is going to help her realise her dream of hosting an hour on QVC and becoming Jessica Simpson without the boobs.

 They both love the freeloaders, though!

She's still insisting that she didn't get any money from Jeff's will and Crackie is still interviewing that she thinks this latest endeavor is just another way to capitalise on her Bravolebrity status and make a quick buck.

What's wrong with that? Seriously, if Gretchen makes it big, who will be the first one kissing her ass? Not that I think that it's going to happen because, hello. That bow-tay line? Never saw it, not even at the dollar store. I just think Crackie looks down on anything gained too easily, and we all know those bags were designed in a warehouse by a second tier school merchandising major with fifth row seats at JC Penney fashion shows.

Do you buy Gretchen's logic that she's not a gold digger since she's dating literally poor dead-beat Slade? I'm not really sure what the deal is there. Sometimes I think she's deeply insecure and has to have a man no matter what, and then I feel like she picked him out of a pathological need to prove that money doesn't matter to her, and who knows, maybe it doesn't, but why be with the poster boy for mandatory jail sentences for child support dodgers? There's more to this story and I wish I knew what the heck it is.

The infomercial guru finally gets her to finish a decent take with the telepromptor so that 'Wanda from Wichita' can throw ears of corn at her TV when Gretchen tries to sell her the latest pink naugahyde satchels of gold digging. Blech. I am so over the product placement. If Bravo insists on letting them hawk their wares for half the show, then do me a favor and cut down on the actual commercials. Deal?

Moving on to something equally enjoyable and also eerily familiar- Crackie taking Donn for granted and then bossing him around. She doesn't thank him for washing her car because that's 'his duty.' I find it amazing that she can say (with a straight face) that she has new floors, a new dog and a renewed relationship while clearly doing the same old bitching and moaning. You can see the cracks in the armor as she micromanages and whines throughout the entire scene of the two of them moving furniture. Donn gets fed up, as people are wont to do when you ask for something before you've thought things through.

Oh well. At least you got a decent ring out of the deal.

Sometimes when you have a go-go-go Type A personality you forget that other people's time is as valuable as your own (this is me being nice. She's a b****). Crackie wants to move the furniture in before she has any idea if she likes the rug or where to put the sofa or the chairs or her colossal ego. Donn gets impatient and who can blame him? She turns everything into a master/slave scenario, and saying "It's been great," about your marriage while looking like you just sucked on a lemon instead of your husband? Not helping.

Love tank- Empty.

Hey, guys! What happened to Tamra's Mercedes? She has a big old Infinity now, and she's dragging her facelifted Mom to watch her get free tattoo removal from Dr. Tattoff aka Dr. 90210 cast member Will Kirby. Boy oh boy, Bravo is turning into one giant incestuous swap meet, now isn't it? I wonder if the IRS keeps up with all the bartering and mutually beneficial services rendered around Miss Andy's neck of the woods? Silly me, I'm sure it's all above board! This is Bravo! Everyone has their financial ducks in a row, it's a well known fact!

Tamra writhes and cries as the doctor's assistant removes the pink '$rimon' or whatever the Hell it says from her ring finger and then the tramp stamp from her back. Funny. I did not know she had one. A tramp stamp, that is. I am simply shocked. She must have gotten it way after she gave Ryan shit for getting tats, right? She'd never give him grief if she were guilty of the same thing, would she? She's no hypocrite, no way, no day!

I thought I had a low pain threshold. Whatever, it's all about the drama. Me, me me! Look at me! Well, I did look and that neck looked better when it was on the turkey I ate last Thanksgiving. Wah waaaaaah!

Gobble gobble gobble, yuck!

That's okay. We have bigger fishies to fry and better things to block out, like Mallard's children- the Future Gold Digging Twins and James, the next Bro-bag in the making. At least little Pawn Preacher Jr. isn't rocking the fauxhawk anymore. Maybe he took one look at his nasty walrus Daddy with the same HAIRDO and ditched it. Oh, my bad. HAIRCUT.

We actually see Mallard doin' some child rearin' since they couldn't afford both nannies since daddy  is a fraud let one go once the twins grew out of baby bibs and into toddler tackiness. Now poor put-upon Me-Time starved Alexis has to watch her own kids THREE TIMES A WEEK. The heart bleeds, I tell you. Such outrageous suffering! 

She says that she feels overwhelmed and finds herself asking, 'what would Jesus do,' which is apparently to burn the toast. She dresses the little maggots, leaves them outside while she takes a bathroom break (smells like lobster and Dexatrim) and Future Gold Digger #1 bites Future Gold Digger #2. I wonder how she tasted?

Gotta be liver. She did spit her out.

Raising little cannibals. How BIBLICAL. What is FGD#1's punishment? A time-out with no bling!!!! Oh no! That's like an eye for an eye for the pull-ups set! Especially in the OC!

I am so sick of her talking about GOD. Hey, Alexis. How about you live your life in a pious matter instead of talking about it all the time? But I forget. It's all about the lip service, not the actual piety. 

Gretchen wants a bit of that pseudo-piety by association. It seems she and Mallard have gotten close lately. It's not that hard to imagine. They both have similarly bad taste in men, after all.

I wonder if they both have go-to gays? Not Alexis, I'm sure. That would be Blasphemy! 
Gretchen has one. His name is Victor and he's her "go-to gay hairdresser." I wonder how gay men feel about being called 'my gays' or 'my go-to gay this, that or the other.' I have a lot of gay friends. They count among my longest lasting friendships. Do they call us their go-to breeders? Nah, why would they need a go-to breeder, for one thing? The only thing we do that they can't is pop out life-sapping crumb-grabbers. Plus, we're EVERYWHERE. It's not like you have to look hard to find one. 

But Gretchen has hers and he's doing her hair as they talk trash about Tamra. Gretchen looks so different without make-up. Her cheekbones are so huge and she has obviously had a brow lift and botox. She looks like a cross between Heidi Montag and Jayde Nicole. Yikes!


Next thing you know she's gonna look like Lo!

I think she's very pretty and all but you can really see what work she's had done when her face isn't all painted and tarted up, and back to what I said about her looking like Heidi and Jade. I hate to lump her in with them but they all have similar insecurities and bad luck with men. Substance in a partner is so very underrated these days. Sad.

Gretchen's friend Shawna is going to the party as back-up and Gretchen is still insisting that she deserves an apology from Tamra for spilling the beans about Jay Photoglou. It's not nice to judge people when you live in glass trailers. Ain't that the truth!

Speaking of Tamra, she's busy applying her fifth inch of pancake  and her sixth pair of eyelashes. Good Lord, woman! If only you spent that much time on your weave. It's practically straw!

Where's a good blush fire when you need one.

The new girl, not-housewife Fernanda Veranda Lesbiana arrives, and they repair to the outdoor bar to cheerful conversation full of garbled innuendo and lingering eye contact over pink Martinis and cries of "Salooch!"

Fernanda informs us that those who do not maintain actual eye contact during toasts will suffer through 7 years of bad sex. That's only 12 months in dog years, 

so Tamra only has to put up with one year!

At least she stayed away from the cringe-worthy lesbian cliches that Kim Zolziak tried to shove down our throats last year. I'll give her that, but I'm going to take it all back once we see her in that tub with Eddie. Gross. You just know it's going to be extra icky because she wants to throw this relationship in Simon's face, and I'm so glad she's got her kid's best interests at heart. I would have just loved to see my Mom fuck someone other than my Dad in a bubble bath. It's character building, dontcha know!

I really hope little Sophie Richter doesn't have a TV in her room.

Go, Tamra.

I will put up with it, though, as long as I don't have to look at pawn Preacher or Slimey too much. That would be cool. We get enough disgusting hypocrisy from Alexis alone. 

She and Gretchen, Shawna and another hanger-on are in the limo on the way to Tamra's when old Alexis Jesus Lizard says that Gretchen's morality isn't her problem, it's Gee-Oh-Dee's. Cute. Isn't that just the most preciously convenient morality you ever did see? Where'd she learn that, Mel Gibson's church? Sheesh.

Oh, and she got a limo this time since she doesn't want a DUI. Good. Remember Crackie's psychic slumber party from last season where no one slumbered and everyone drove home drunk? Yeah, I think she got some well placed heat from that little episode, but what could she do? It's practically in the bible that you have to drink every day.

You gotta have something to wash down those loaves and fishes!

Limos are not the best natural habitat for a Housewife. It's like their version of Lord of the Flies. They get in confined quarters, add booze and start cutting each other's heads off. First, it starts off as joking, as Gretchen does by making fun of the way Mallard pronounces things. A-mex card instead of Am-ex. Bih-cawz instead of bee-cuz. Mallard takes it in good spirits, she's used to it. She's married to a lazy controlling nit-picker. She gets that kind of crap all the time.

Then Gretchen decides to feel out the group on the subject of Tamra. She throws a little of that Tamra patented judgmental bitchiness right back At Tammy Sue biccawz she's slurping on Eddie while she's still married to Simon. I don't give a crap and neither does Mallard. See, the bible says that as long as you've shown intent to divorce by filing papers, you can build your own Sodom and Gommorah, or something like that. WRONG. Does this woman even know any basics of Christian morality, or does she zone out during the light show at that cheesy church of hers and only snap to when it's time to put an IOU in the collection plate?

OR, or is it bih-cawz she was macking on Jimbo while she was still married? Hmmm. I'm going with All of the Above.

They all agreed on one thing in the end, the code words for leaving, Shawn comes up with 'Lather up.' Where does that come from? It sounds like something you might hear after a happy ending, so now I guess we all  know what Shawn does for a living. Zing!

They arrive and hug each other without misusing any cutlery, and get down to shopping. There's a huge garment rack hung with ugly velour track suits along with sequined camouflage and assorted blinged-out Filene's sportswear. Oh, how I miss Beverly Hills. Can you imagine Pinky hosting a tacky trunk show in HER kitchen? HELL NO. 

The saleslady holds up a trucker hat with an evil eye bedazzled onto the front, from the Dina Manzo Spring collection. Gretchen puts it on and makes a stupid joke about needing it when she's around Tamra. Tammy Sue acts like Gretchen done set her trailer on fire with her dog and all her dildoes inside. It was a stupid joke, and this is the perfect time to remind everyone that you shouldn't dish it out if you can't take it! LAME.

Our vignette this week proves that you can work and work and be successful yet still butcher random cliches. In this case it's Crackie and her, "When the mice is away the cats can't play," which she uses on her staff, including Michael. I swear she does this crap on purpose. Either that or she's trying a play on words and failing KKB style.

Before you know it she'll be making Kool-Aid from Kool's.

They showed Michael in his cubicle which begs the question, where is Brianna? I love Brianna, but as much as I love her, I hope she stays far away this year. She probably could use the time alone away from the real Mommy Dearest, and I would not be surprised if she's still reeling from that awful four Martini lunch in San Francisco where everyone ganged up on her Mom while poor Briannna was AWAITING A BIOPSY RESULTS. Everyone on that trip tried to make it about themselves, even when they were crying over her illness, and it's best left in the past. I do not need to get riled up over that fiasco again. 

When Crackie arrives at the Tupperclothes Party, Tamra immediately tries to get her hackles up over what Gretchen said. COME ON. It was no big deal, at least from where I was sitting. I was more worried about going blind from Mallard's latest Pucci print tablecloth dress.

Oh, and how did the newly classy Tamra greet Crackie?

Ah, yes. KLASS.

I'm so glad Mallard said hello to Crackie after how stellar their exchanges were last year. It went something like this- 'Hi, Crackie,' all fakey fake and baby voiced. Then she told a parable about Moses opening pawn shops and pulling diamond monograms out of his ass while uptight pig women spin webs of condescension. Then there were fireworks and the naked bartender saved the Twin Gold Diggers from drowning in a pool of their own drool. So say we all.

What? Was what I just wrote any more ridiculous than the bit about feeding everyone from one kid's lunch? I wonder if she got her fun bags blessed before she put them into that sinful temple of a body she runs around in.

As bad as she is, she's still not as bad as Crackie and Tammy Sue once they start mean girl-ing someone. The green eyed monster didn't take long to show up and they are back to bashing Gretchen. The sound editing is manipulated as well. I have watched every incarnation of this show countless times and sat through every whooping and hollering loud-ass party and not once do I remember hearing the background noise like I do now. You can hear all the laughter and raised voices, meaning Gretchen's drunk ass. Clearly someone's the bad guy this time, but it doesn't let Tamra off the hook.

She and Crackie are sitting off by themselves acting like none of the last two years ever happened. You see, it was all the bad vibes of going through marriage problems. THAT'S why Tamra was an asshole before she turned over her new leaf. Hate to tell you this, Tammy Sue, but even new leaves shrivel up and get old, and you are as deciduous as it gets.

That higher ground looks pretty low to me.

Crackie tells her that she should ask Gretchen to leave. What a joke. Ask her to leave over THAT comment? How petty and insecure can you get? Why, MUCH more, thank you for asking! 

The only part of their little discussion that I agreed with was the part where Crackie said she wouldn't pinkie swear to have Tamra's back. Tamra has to earn her good graces, and we know how likely that is, yay!

Gretchen gets drunker and drunker, to the point that she gets upset over a discussion with Mallard over what time they get up in the morning, all while Fernanda Copacabana Roseannadana Banana dances awkwardly in the background.. Really.

 God, sometimes I'm glad I live in Cleveland. 

Mallard gets up hours earlier, which she should since she's got kids. It should have ended there but the dumb Bride of Jesus goes and calls Gretchen a princess, which she kinda is. They BOTH are. Big freaking deal, right?

Wrong. Methinks this friendship may be headed for the crapper bih-cawz Gretchen interviews that Mallard sits around and twiddles (wtf?) her hair while getting everything handed to her. True, all true, but why the big fuss? This is not the Gretchen of last year. She seems really defensive and insecure all of a sudden. That's too bad because I really need someone to like on this show now that Jeana's gone. Damn.

Oh, well. She has no one to blame for getting naked wasted this time, and she drunkenly approaches Crackie to tell her that she's WORKING now, if that's what were calling hawking third rate Coach knock-offs these days. Crackie's talking head  interview is full of her usual BS about how Gretchen SHOULD be working since she's unmarried. Then she calls Slade 'slimy.' Someone's been reading the blogs, no?

And getting makeovers from Barbara Eden.

Most of them go back outside and get drunker and louder, if that's even possible, syncing up a perfect moment for Tammy Sue to get on her high horse and remark that they should all "have a little class." Bwahahahaha!!! This from a 40 year old who doesn't even know the proper way to eat dinner unless it comes in a plastic basket at Fuddrucker's.

She puts on the evil eye hat and makes her way outside in that bouncy cheap hooker way of hers, hippity hoppity strut strut struttin' over to confront Gretchen. She asks Gretchen if she was calling her an evil bitch. Retchin' Gretchen says, "no, I called you an evil truck stop five dolla hookin' hillbilly trailer trash attention hogging life-sucking dead eyed ditch dweller, BITCH."

I wish. She just said, "yeah," giggled, put on an evil eye hat of her own and made a reference to how they go back and forth with the bitchiness, it's what they do. One of Tamra's friend decides to interrupt and says that no, everything is supposed to be normal now. Oh, shut the hell up and sit down, this IS normal for them. It's the way we like it! At least I do because cheap stays cheap, and you can call yourself a trophy wife but most trophies are gold painted plastic. KNOW THAT.

You should have read the directions before you showed up at the party.

They bicker some more with Tamra saying that she wanted to throw her wine in Gretchen's face, and we all know she'll throw it at somebody later, now don't we? Good old sad sack Jeana. God, I hope Jeana hooks Gretchen up with Simon just to watch Tamra squirm. Wouldn't that be heavenly? Sigh.

What a silly fight. it was blown way out of proportion for the cameras and the bitchiness that continued in the limo was more of the same, with Mallard throwing her hands up over Gretchen's endless defensiveness. Oh, gretchen. Girl, you need to watch your drinking. Before you know it, you could wake up married to Slade or something! Or have only Mallard Mouth to pray for you.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of breasts, I shall fear no evil eye hats for thou hast given me rods and maidstaff and overflowing cups, AMEN

Next time we have to listen to Tamra whine more about her divorce, and we get to meet Peggy the She-male Tannous! God, I hope she's not as awful as she seems. Or do I? Hmm.

Catch you later. I'm off to see a hockey game in Pittsburgh. GO PENS.

Twunty McSlore


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