It finally got good this week, I must say! We have the all-too-brief return of Jeana and a scene with Slurry where her presence is completely inconsequential, kind of like the rest of her life. Then we find out that Tammy Sue Bob was done with her marriage a little sooner than we originally thought. Simon must be so happy this week! Somebody better hide all the dog leashes in Orange County..
Did you know that Slade is an amazing artist? No? Neither did Retchin.' It's her birthday and they're driving up to L.A. .....hey, wait! Does Slade even have a license? I was almost as surprised to see him behind the wheel as I was to hear that he's Orange County's answer to Bob Ross and Gauguin. Well, he's definitely scruffy enough to pass for one, too bad about the not-starving bit.
Retchin' tells him to pursue it further because he needs to make some money. Okaaay, exactly how is he supposed to do that? It's not like there's a Sonja around every corner or a huge demand for finger paintings. I know! He can do self portraits!
And save a fortune in paint
I'm not really sure who poop paintings would appeal to, Germans maybe? All those weirdos that watched 'Two Girls, One Cup?' Purveyors of novelty gifts?
They finally arrive at a big art studio that's all dirty and yucky. Some artist-type comes out and makes her paint. Of course, she goes for the really bright colors that look like lipstick swatches. It comes out all abstract and impressionistic, and not half bad, really. Why, maybe she could make money from painting!
Gretchen Christine Monet
Slade scares her when he tells her that the painting she just did is her birthday present. I get scared when her real present comes out. A painting of HER.
Yep, he's drawing with his poop all right.
What a shitty picture, and the shit theme continues right to the bitter end when Slade insists on hanging it in her bathroom. Retchin' doesn't know about this. How uncool to hang a big picture of yourself right across from the toilet. She's used to getting pictures taken while she's ON them, silly!
At least she's wearing clothes this time.
Before you tell me that Slade didn't draw that, I know he didn't. He can't afford the paint and he only knows her from memory from the waist down. But it was fun talking about how poor he is again! I could do that all day.
By the way? What is up with Bravo subjecting us to so much shitty art this month? I'm used to April being full of rain and bunnies and holidays based on tragedy. Do I really need the eyesores? Next thing you know, Jill is going to pose nude for Simon in a hotel hallway in all her Spanx-less glory. I picture that tableau as looking something like this:
If I'm exaggerating, it's only a little.
Over at The Crackhouse we have visible proof that Crackie done lost her damn mind. She invited Mallard over for chit-chat and vino. What in the name of bejewelled boobie tops do they have to talk about? Is there a new type of tit insurance that Crackie wants to introduce to the market? Actually, that is not a bad idea in Alexis's case.
It's not like there's any point in insuring her MIND.
Crackie wants to bury the hatchet and begin anew on friendlier terms. They speak of the Great Mace Incident of 2010, un-smoked joints and allegiances. They promise not to speak behind each other's backs and it's all going pretty well until Mallard tells Crackie that she is now a dress designer, one with no intention of ever going near a 'sew machine.' So much for that truce. Tourettes Gunvalson crawls back out of her shell and this is what happens-
Clonidine must wear off when you drink.
I am NOT complaining.
Last year she called her 'classless trash.' This year Crackie makes an obscene hand gesture when Mallard insists that she's going to be a huge success because she benefits from all of Jimbo Jellyflesh's 'life lessons.'
Actually, that's a pretty accurate representation.
Life lessons, huh? In what, figuring out how to live rent free in a mansion for three years? He's damn good at that! He's also really talented at double chins and man boobs but I don't know what that has to do with making dresses.
Formica and Greggy have a huge dinner party every year. Normally they schedule it to coincide with the Drag Race finale so that Greggy can show off her phenomenal tuck game between courses, but the Fall filming didn't allow it. They are meeting with a World Renown Chef to figure out the menu. I hope Formica's not allergic to lesbians.
He'll never be able to pick up a fork!
First off, this chef owns a restaurant named Border Grill. It's on her jacket, it's on the sign out front and I'm pretty sure the GPS read it aloud to them several times on their way over. How is it that they don't know that she specializes in Mexican food? He wants steak and fried Oreos to be served so was he under the impression that California bordered Texas and Georgia?
To make this meeting even more fun, he makes a racist remark about Mexican food only being suitable for pool parties and the like, all while the chef serves them plate after plate of free food. Is this a joke? I assume that Miss Andy arranged it or it's a Top Chef cross-over or something for her to take such abuse with a smile. Still, if Susan is anything like the chefs that I worked with, she beheaded a dishwasher as soon as they left.
But no big deal! All Greggy cares about is impressing people with her celebrity chef. Who cares if she wasn't into the food?
She only eats brains anyway.
Back over at the Crackhouse, Briana and Crackie are discussing her upcoming trip to Vegas when they discover that Mikey left the ice cream in the fridge instead of the freezer. Briana jokes that he probably came home drunk and didn't realise what he was doing.
Or he's been up late studying passive aggression with Jeana again.
Crackie gives Briana a big lecture on staying safe in Vegas because Uncle Billy got roofied there. The poor guy was sitting with a nice lady, left his drink unattended and woke up several hours later in his room naked and all his money was gone.
I was nowhere near Vegas so don't look at me like that.
Besides, I don't need to roofie anybody. Guys just give me money, mostly to get me to shut up. Why do you think there's always a dick in my mouth?
She needn't worry about Briana in Vegas anyway. We all know that Briana is a good girl, very responsible and careful around people.
What she really needs to worry about is that Crack Face she inherited.
I keed! I'd do the exact same thing if I was subjected to a mother like that. The good news is that Briana is dating a fireman. HELLO. A freaking fireman. You know, hunky, strong heroic guys who come home all sweaty after saving kittens out of trees and pothead drunks like Slurry off of stoner cuff factory rooftops. But Briana isn't the only lucky one. I'd say Mr. Fireman is pretty luck too, and not just because Briana has the sense not to introduce him to Crackie yet.
Holy crap, those are big. I hope she's not pregnant. They won't let her get that big wolf tattoo in Vegas if she is. Personally, I think she should get a giant tattoo of Donn's face, or her birth Dad, even if it's temporary. It's been a long time since we've seen Hurricane Crackie and I miss her
tearing the head off of Alexis.
Tamra and Greggy are walking in a fashion show, you know, like pretty much all 40 year old housewives do. I mean, I'm walking in a fashion show this Friday with my neighbours Barb and Carol, at least we call it that. Our husbands call it staggering home drunk, but why split hairs?
Tammy Sue Bob is wearing a Chanel suit rip-off from the Jenna Jameson line, and she acts like she's nervous to walk around all the real models in the room.
Actually, they're more nervous that you might lift your leg and swallow them whole.
She bounces down the carpet with that stupid hooker gait of hers and only minimal chairs and pillows go missing. What a relief. She must be wearing panties.
It's Greggy's turn and I'm kind of pissed that we didn't get to see her in the dressing room. It's been a long time since I've hung out with drag queens and I really miss the old Pyramid days. You haven't lived until you see RuPaul in panties.
Why did they give her the lowest cut dress? Her tatas haven't had a chance to settle yet. They're practically levitating out of her body.
But it's nice to see that the chest hair is gone!
She is seriously giving Lauri a run for her money. I don't know which one is manlier. You would think it would be Crackie or Jeana with their tall linebacker builds, but no. It's the two skinniest bitches ever! When one of you figures out that logic, let me know.
Jeana walks in and Tamra is shocked, shocked I tell you! A real former model in a runway show? Who'da thunk it? She's so shocked that she's speechless and doesn't say hello. Instead, she just interviews that Jeana has a nasty soul. Just a reminder: in Tamraland every day is Opposite Day. It makes navigating the random nature of her life a hell of a lot easier.
Jeana tries on her clothes and the proprietress of the boutique tells her she's a tiny size 6. She does look thinner, but a size 6? Maybe in Samoan culture but that doesn't really count outside of Pacific Rim Islands, now does it?
They sit down to chat about Spain and dating men that would rather stick their dicks in pencil sharpeners than in their women. Tamra says she's so happy dating a guy with a nebulous job description and an even more nebulous grasp on heterosexuality. She chooses her words carefully because she knows that every word is going back to Simon, since Jeana took his side in the divorce. That's why I understand her when she says she doesn't trust her as far as she can throw her. She loses me when she says that God knows it wouldn't be far.
Bitch, you're almost the same size!
Look at them! What a joke, and I didn't hear Tamra say what size she was wearing. Hmm.
No self awareness, none. Not unlike women that wear Sears caftans and 70s wig inspired hairdos and claim to have good taste. I'm speaking of Mallard, of course. She's meeting with her designer for a fitting in preparation for a photo shoot of her super stylish co-chure frocks. This is her definition of couture- Dresses that are 'super rich.'
No, honey. That's what the Johns are.
Since when was whipping up Roper-wear in nylon equivalent to having your fingers bleed for ten years sewing seed pearls into the adult diapers of the wealthy women who can afford Dior? This chick didn't even go to F.I.T.! Hasn't Mallard ever picked up a copy of Vogue, or does she get all her fashion advice from QVC?
In a really lame, no doubt Jimbo inspired attempt to look like the boss, she cuts the sleeve off a dress that took poor Tao an entire Project Runway marathon to sew. What a cunt! It does improve the dress in one way, though.
It won't snag on Jimbo's Ed Hardy belt buckle anymore
That poor designer. I thought she was going to cry. All that work down the drain because Mallard has illusions that she's the boss of something other than spooge clean-up.
Since we don't get enough fashion on Bravo, it's time for the stupid fashion show. They're pretty strapped for space so they have to do the hair and make-up wherever they can find room.
So, yeah. Tamra's vagina.
What? It's pink! How am I supposed to know the difference?
Jeana starts grilling Greggy about what she does for a living and if Tamra's tried to sleep with her yet. Then she tries to sell her some real estate.
You need a hallway? I can get you a good hallway. let's just say it's had a few 'previous owners.'
Tamra arrives late and she's all freaked out about walking, as she should be since she skipped the rehearsal. Bah, what am I saying? She's not scared of walking! She can't wait!
Greggy goes out to get the show started, wearing what looks like a holographic trash bag.
Girl, those must be some SERIOUS hot flashes.
She and Jeana walk and Tamra compares Greggy's runway style to a pimp walk, then throws up gang signs at the end of the runway when she walks. I'm almost positive those were authentic gang signs even though the screen grab is blurry. Just look how scared the audience is. That one guy looks like he's afraid that her ass is going to eat him.
Wait, where did Jeana go?
That was so freaking cheesy! The Bravo fairies even threw in some canned cat calls, and not one person was clapping or cheering,
Except for Eddie when the waiter walked by.
Across the BORDER in Nevada, Briana arrives at her Vegas hotel and calls mommy. She informs her that she will not be texting her before she goes to bed, or after she's done drinking or while she's getting a giant Steve-O inked into her boobie skin. Nope, so tough shit. Briana's with her buddy Danielle and they are there to drink some Dom Perry-on in their room, perfectly safe from roofie carrying perverts, unless Danielle wants some payback for the spanking.
Put that bottle away, she isn't Tamra!
They go down to the bar where they drink and they drink and they drink some more. They get so drunk that they decide to listen to White Rabbit and hang out with a hookah smoking caterpillar.
I am so jealous. I want to smoke a hookah and forget who and where I am! I only wish I had someone as deserving as Crackie to piss off by doing it. She is going to FLIP. And if she flips over that,
she is going to LOVE the lesbians hitting on her daughter.
Actually, why should she care? Her buddy Tammy Sue Bob dipped in the lady pool with Fern and came out alright, didn't she? Nobody got hurt. It was just an innocent little flirtation, that's all. Or was it?
The object of her drunken saphic experimentation is at the gym that she runs with her ex-wife Marianne. Talk about awkward. She works every damn day with the gal and to top it all of she's training Slurry. She was supposed to be training Slurry and Tamra but guess what? Tamra cancelled. Shocker.
sleeping while Eddie watched gay porn in the next room taking her kids to school.
They start to work out and Fern recounts her experience last year at Tamra's birthday party where Tammy Sue humped on her in the ladies room. What?! You don't say! Slurry's all shocked and asks if maybe it was just some friendly humping and kissing and Fern took it the wrong way. Tammy likes men, dammit! I see her point.
She likes you, doesn't she?
This is all news to Marianne because they were still together at the time, as were Tamra and Simon. Gee, Tamra. Who's the cheater now? Bass Lake, anyone? If I were her, I'd be peeing in my fake Chanel right now. Marianne looks like she could take her with one hand tied behind her hulking back.
Hell, she could take Eddie!
Crackie, not so much.
I'll see you next week when I will actually be in Orange County! How exciting! I can't wait to see you, tnbelle! And I can't wait to see what happens at the dinner party to make Crackie's face look so crazy. What could it be?
Did Slade pick up a check?