Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Real Housewives of Orange County Recap: The Many Faces Of A Crackie

Yep, that's pretty much the extent of what was entertaining about this episode, Crackie's facial expressions. Why, she's the Jim Carey of Coto de Caca! Maybe she should give up the insurance biz and open up a pet detective agency.

God knows she's good at finding dogs!

Last year I said that this show was over. Between Slurry's messed up family, the Bellino bimbo and the lack of any relate-able men, the joy was gone. Adding further to the wreckage was the fact that Jeana left, so what the heck would there be to to watch? Glad you asked- just a bunch of contrived nonsense!

Sad to say I'm even missing the Knickerbocker girls. Good God, I might as well watch TLC's A Baby Story reruns and call it a day. Less gore and less whores!

This week starts out with Crackie and Tamra taking their 'girl's trip' to Cabo. I thought this was going to be a cast trip, which might have been interesting, but NO. Just these two idiots and their fluffed up slapstick. What a bunch of try-hard nonsense!

'Crackie's working in the limo on the way to the airport, tee hee!'

'Tamra called me on the other line when I was on a business call, what insane madcap gall!'
 Ho's, PLEASE.

I did like when Crackie smacked her, though.

Only next time use your laptop. And make sure the door's unlocked. And she accidentally falls out. And the pavement's really HOT.

They get down to Cabo to the usual sight of bars aplenty and half naked Californians frolicking on the beach. How is this different from Orange County?

The guys with the Rapey Eyes speak Spanish. That's about it.

Just like last year on the San Francisco trip, we are supposed to believe that Tammy Sue planned the whole thing out since she's so classy. Yeah, right. If Miss Andy didn't call up the Priceline Negotiator himself, I will do a body shot off Tamra's liver spotted belly button. That chick would be happy sleeping on the beach and stumbling up to the taco trailer in the morning. Hey, wasn't that her nickname in Junior High?

Tamra *bullshit* booked the penthouse and Crackie gets the bigger room for her ego because Tamra owes her. Geez, she could fill that love tank to the brim and it still wouldn't be enough to make up for last season.
Or this visual.

Now, don't give me any crap for that screen grab. You all knew it was coming. Besides, it's the most interesting thing about her, other than the fact that she's descended from a long line of Hee Haw actors, starting with Leroy. Oh, and I'm pretty sure this is her cousin/sister/mama.

This is how you do shots with Tammy Sue Bob and Crackie O'Crankytank. You lick salt, slam the tequila and suck a lime, or is it suck it, lick it, slam it? I dunno, but I'm pretty sure Tamra learned all that in Kindygarten, it's nothing new.

 Lick, slam, suck. Ah yes, remembering dear old Dad.

So let's move on to a bimbo's view on marriage.

Gretchen and Mallard Mouth are meeting for cocktails to discuss the pending doom of a possible nuptials between Gretchen and Slade. Wow, I just realized that a wedding would make her Gretchen Christine Smiley. Do you think Slade will get her a Smiley2 license plate like the one he got for Jo? Why, he could slap it on that used hay cart he's been eying on Craig's List. Those always make a real nice wedding carriage, at least that's what Tammy Sue told him.

As I listen to more BS about how Gretchen's first marriage died because her hubby got complacent, and not because she's a cheating lying gold digging ho, I am struck by Mallard's assertion that she finally found that one person that she's going to die with and how wonderful that is. Mallard honey, you have no idea.

Someone fix their brakes. I want her and Jimbo to feel that joy as soon as possible! Ain't I nice?

And, look! Jimbo taught her how to drink through a straw!

Oh, how I envy her. Such perfection, sigh. She has this marriage thing all figured out. Gosh, I hope she puts out a marriage handbook! It'll be such a nice counter-point to Tamra's divorce tome.

Hey! I want a dress line. We Ohioans got style and class! We know how to work a one armed mini caftan, as long as it's made out of sweatshirt material and comes with lounge pants we would fit right in!

Is this dress line for real? I have to wonder, and where did she get her Latina designer? Did she pick her out of Jimbo's latest copy of Field & Stream? Did she bump into her at the plastic surgeon's office where they bonded over old Frederick's of Hollywood catalogs, and what exactly is in those grotesquely distended lips of hers? Did she smuggle somebody over the border in them, or did Alexis give her her old implant? Gah, I thought that people in Orange County looked in the mirror all the time. There's just no excuse for looking like that, and no amount of labial inflation is going to turn you into the Angelina Jolie of the garment industry.

There already is one anyway and her name is Marc Jacobs.

At least I can tell you why Old Water Fowl started this whole muu-muu enterprise. See, 50% (I know, that's low) of the stuff she was buying didn't fit right so she had to take it to her seamstress to slut the dresses up to her high whore standards. I know exactly how she feels, as I am shortening one of my housecoats right this very moment so the hem will stop snagging on my knee-hi's.

They cut to Tamra making fun of her for not knowing how to sew and for designing for Mom's like Alexis herself, "Yeah, man, like herself, anorexic with big boobs! Snort, chortle, chortle, hee haw! Hee haw!' Fuck off, Tamra, you two-faced bitch. You're making me like her and that's not cool! Besides, she IS sewing for Moms just like herself.

Did Mrs. Roper have kids?

It all may come to nothing anyway since King James will put the kibosh on the entire enterprise once he realizes that she isn't going to make any money. Or maybe even sooner, like when a cute photographer flirts with her or she has an epiphany one day where God tells her she needn't open her legs to slack jawed Pawn broking elephant seals anymore. Until then , she'll just have to keep swallowing her vomit and praying that her kids don't end up looking like him.

Peggy had post-partum depression. It got so bad that she contemplated moving to Costa Mesa rather than put a gun in her mouth. I don't know if I believe her or not or if this is just an elaborate scheme to help her Mother-In-Law's fledgeling homeopathic snake oil business. Either way, I don't care. Greggy is about as interesting as Slurry was sober, and if the MIL's 1-800 number popped up at the bottom of the screen, I would not have been surprised.

You too could be this beautiful, holistically!

Back in Cabo, Crackie is busy proving that she is incapable of taking off her boss cap and putting on a normal 'friend' one. She and Tammy Sue go to dinner where Crackie treats her like an errant ten year old that must get back into her mother's good graces by earning it the hard way. Really, you want her to write a freaking note about what friendship means to her? I can answer that one for you- NOTHING. She takes and takes and takes and what does she give? Nada. Well, I'm sure she gives Eddie head but that doesn't count because he's not thinking about her when she's doing it anyway. He's too busy remembering that guy he spotted at the Lady Gaga concert.

Neither one of these bitches has changed, no matter how much they say they have. Simon isn't the big bad wolf, and no amount of Tamra laughing at Crackie''s mealtime antics is going to make me believe these two are friends. Bigger phonies don't exist.

The next day they head down to the pool where they rehash last year's struggles and talk about vaginal rejuvenation. It turns out that Tamra's suffers from hotdog in a hallway syndrome while Crackie escaped that fate by having her little bundles of joy cut out of her. And if you believe that Eddie boinked Tamra for five hours to Lady Gaga without getting pegged in return, I've got some holographic hormone stickers to sell you. Only $9.99 if you act now and I'll wave the postage if you send me pictures of Eddie with his boyfriend Marcos.

So, guys. How DO you know if your vajayjay's tight? I have a simple answer- you won't, not with Eddie. He's going to stick it in your asshole regardless.

It's what Tops do. DUH.

We should hook him up with Slade. That guy has Bottom written all over him.

Mr. Slimey doesn't make an appearance this week, but Gretchen's real, non-sugar Daddy Scott, does. More bullshit about getting married to Slade, zzzzzzzzzzz. She calls her Dad a 'goon' when he teases the waitress. I think she meant 'goof.' Poor thing can't be expected to know everything, so don't be too hard on her. It's hard work being a non-princess, and second grade was a looong time ago. Who remembers vocabulary words from when they were seven? Sheesh!

Gretchen wants to plan a big free bravo sponsored party for her Mammy and Pappy's 40th wedding anniversary. I assume this will be when Slade gets on one knee and slips the gumball machine ring on her finger, and will someone tell her to forget about having kids with the guy? He doesn't pay for the ones he already has and he has a vasectomy! Where I'm from that pretty much means you're done.  He said no to over-populating the planet with extra mouths to feed and decided to stop contributing to clogging up the landfills with stinky diapers. Let's leave it that way!

I'm also pretty sure that IF Slade has a successful reversal, and IF he knocks her up, she isn't getting any sort of 'push present' from him, not like the Bentley Greggy's hubby bought for her after she pushed out little Manchester or Naples or whatever the Hell her name is.

What does hubby Micah do again? Isn't he some kind of internet entrepreneur, involved in nebulously worded sorta businesses with wholly owned pseudo subsidiaries, in other words, invested in internet porn? I have to ask, since their home is in foreclosure now. Most people get their porn for free these days, and that's gotta be hurting sales.

They take their precious babies Cornwall and Sicily to the pool for an afternoon swim. Everything is lovely until baby Bologna tries to off herself in the cabana with a picture frame. I give her 20 points for creativity, only she blew her cover by not crying when Mama discovered the blood. Mama Greggy is so upset, she sends Daddy Tons-of-fun off to the emergency room to see if they put stitches on paper cuts, thus indoctrinating her youngest into the wonderful world of surgery nice and early!

 They give her a Band-aid. Scandalous!

Back in Cabo, Tamra is hammered. Whenever Tamra is hammered, her vision gets blurry, she loses some of her grip on reality and before you know it, she's complimenting Crackie. She even gets a Donn look-alike in on the action, and he kisses her cheek!

Gee, where have I seen that before?

Oh well, maybe she's already moved on to this guy. Who cares?

He'll never see her anyway. 

A pretty girl does a shot off Tamra's stretch marks and then Crackie makes a bunch of faces that are meant to convey her fundamentally classy horror at Tammy Sue's boozy antics. They go back to their room where Crackie forgives Tamra, firworks light up the sky and Tamra make Crackie promise not tell anyone that Eddie makes her wear a strap-on.

The night ends in drunken, tired and half hearted 'Woo Hoo's,' and  a tragically overlooked opportunity for Crackie to throw Tammy Sue off the balcony.

Damn you, Miss Andy, damn you to Hell!

XoX Ho,
Your Twunt

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