Once again we are drawn into the saga of spin controlling lives. Tamra wants you to believe that she is the Tina Turner of our times while Mallard is trying to convince us that the reason she's allowed to go places without Jimbo isn't because this is the only steady paycheck they're bringing in. Good thing we're all too smart to fall for it, right?
Bad thing Tamra has such good reflexes, though. So close, Simon. So close!
But first things first. Mallard needs to pick up some boots for the trip to Texas. She's dragging Dylan along with her because although Jumbalaya has her micro-chipped, something could go wrong. She might see another hunk of blubber from behind and end up blowing the wrong guy in the dark mall cigar shop. I hope Old Pawn Preacher is paying Dylan in more than just old commemorative plates and bulk silver. College doesn't pay for itself, you know!
Mallard wants sparkly pink boots, preferably with a four inch heel. Those might exist if Texas was a hooker colony in outer space, but it's not. But who knows, maybe NASA will discover one some day, and she and Jimbo can move there.
Hopefully, they have other talking ducks there too!
She tries some boots on and compares them to see if they match to her belt, then a lightbulb goes off and she wraps the belt around the boot. She just discovered boot joorey! She's gonna be rootin' tootin' millionaire, fillies and gents! She doesn't care how may tacky fugly ways she'll one day be responsible for dressing people, Aw, shucks!
Consequenthes, schmonthequenthes, as long as I'm rich!
Programming warning: that may not be the last time I quote Daffy Duck. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Blame Porky. I do have a healthy love of ham...
This will be interesting. Mallard on her own, with no one to rein her in, no one to rain on her parade and no one to reign over her. Girl is going to bust a boobie socket. I can't wait!
Guess who isn't invited? That's right, Tammy Sue Blob and Crackie Crankenstein, for obvious reasons. Old Crackpot's at work threatening to grab more bottoms and grope her barely legal staff into submission. Poor Walter. She's still subjecting him to her nastiness, at home and at work. The poor guy deserves a break, some puppy uppers, some doggy dopamine.
Some earplugs.
I wonder if he's really a midget in a Pug costume, planted there by Donn to spy on Crackie's comings and goings. Actually, how awesome would it be if Donn had the little guy micro-chipped too, and kept track of all Crackie's dalliances that way. Hello, six figure settlement!
I dream, I know.
Crackie calls Tamra so Tamra can spin what happened with the leash that Simon tossed at her, Matt Keough foul ball-style. She called the cops and they arrested him on a domestic violence charge. Naughty Simon! You clip the leash on the collar, you don't throw it at the dog! Tamra doesn't have opposable thumbs yet, she can't do it herself!
Crackie sympathizes, saying that she can relate since she was so terribly abused by Wolfie. She was so abused that she had to act out and have an affair with Donn. It's terrible, and Simon totally deserves this wake-up call.
Please, his whole marriage was one!
Fame changes people but Tamra was already trash and Simon should have known better. She must have been way more charming when whole fleets of cars weren't going missing up her cootch. Yet they do, and it had to be a lot to put up with. It had to be rough day after day, waking up and not finding your Mercedes where you parked it. Thank God for wireless entry, though. Beep, bop! Spread your legs and hand it over, bitch! Done.
In Texas, Retchin' is picking up the girls in a giant Hummer limo. Perfect. She sticks her head out of the moonroof to greet them, like she's practicing for Famewhores Gone Wild. Little does she know how bad this weekend is going to get.
Last one in has to hold Mallard's hair back!
Floor duh pee.
I don't mean to offend anyone that might like that necklace but it's so Ballard Design catalog circa 1997. Plus, shoving it down into six inches of tit cavern isn't exactly going to make it look less cheap. Kudos to her for the Daisy Mae braids, though! That sure classed it up a bit!
Mallard is just starting to realise that she is Jimbo-less and she's chomping at the bit. She makes lip service to not wanting to go clubbing, but what did she think Disco Bible School was preparing her for? She must prove herself in the face of temptation. That's the way these things work, right? I don't know. I always zoned out after the first scripture reading. Note to pastors- don't put granny laudenum on before the main course, okay? No one will ever hear you rhapsodize over Jesus's lunch pail.
I'm glad that Mallard came prepared for bull riding. She got traumatised by impaling her future gold digger-maker on a saddle horn years ago and had to ride a mechanical bull back home in order to get over her fears. She even got bruises and stuff, and points them out to the ladies. Poor girl isn't comfortable in the thigh region right now.
There'll be a slitght pausthe while i adjutht my accoutrmenthts.
They check into their hotel and then decide to clomp around the San Antonio River Walk in super high heels. All except Fern, of course. She has the sense to wear flats on the uneven cobblestones, donning some silly Robin Hood boots. They could come in handy.
If anyone feel like robbing the POOR.
They show so much footage of them teetering and tottering that it comes as no surprise when one of them wipes out. It's Gretchen and everyone including Mallard comes to her aid.
Thank goodneth those weren't 'Up' stairths, Gretchen. You could've bruithsed your kneeth!
They head off to one of the ten martini lunches these housewives are so famous for and the subject turns to marriage. You know, how to bag 'em, tag 'em and learn not to gag on 'em. Mallard and Greggy go at it through out the entire repast.
Issue number one: Who has the better list of qualifications for their future mates? Greggy wants a guy who doesn't have a real job, yet owns a company, owns his own home with no roommates,
and doesn't mind if she passes out at the table after two drinks.
That's child's play! Greggy heads into her slow-mo ritalin haze as Mallard counters with JIM's wants and needs- A gal that doesn't pee too much and has hobbies. What the HELL is she talking about? Girl is one brain cell from full retard.
Maybe if I sthtare at thith piecthe of paper long enough, people will think I can read!
It's really a pissing match to see who is less of a man shopper and more of a loser magnet. No one wins! Except us, that is.Woo hoo, Aquanet-for brains! Talk turns to Fern and her baby wanting, girl marriage yearning ways. I sure hope she's happy one day raising bambinos with the chick of her choice. Not Mallard, though. Her church says it's BAD and so does that Walrus Jowled hubby of hers, so she doesn't believe in it.
You're dithpiccable! Everyone knowth only inter-sthpethies marriage isth okay!
Poor Fern. With the exception of Retchin' she is surrounded by Newport's finest reactionary regressives. I still can't believe that Greggy would marry a guy who is so clearly hostile to gay men. She was a *HACK* model, she had to have worked with tons of them, no? Hairstylists, make-up people, etc?
They joke around about getting Fern knocked up that night and I have to wonder if this is just another case of Lauri Peterson disease. They parrot their spouse's opinions because they're too lazy to have any of their own. I bet they drop this stupid outdated moralizing when it's convenient.
Like right about when they discover Fern is hotter than their husbands.
A real stand-off of passive aggressive hostility is brewing between Greggy and Mallard. Greggy continually gives Mallard semi-conscious glares and Mallard squints at her over her bowl of martinis. How much of this nonsense is due to the fact that Greggy was there (chum vomit!) first and she was lucky enough to get away? I think Mallard's jealousy really started simmering the second she looked across the table and realised that Greggy weighs 5 ounces less than her.
Of courth you realithe.....thith means WAR.
Back in Orange County, Tamra's dog still hates her and Eddie takes pictures of The Leash Of Death for her attorney. She makes some inane Clue jokes that fall flat, and then they head off to the courthouse to deal with Simon's arrest. The court decides not to file charges. So Simon walks free to hurl puppy accessories at trailer trash another day. I kinda feel gyped. I sat through that tripe for nothing? Someone needs to go to jail!
Starting with that weave!
How many times do I have to say it? Get a decent hairdresser, you moron! I don't know what the problem is. Retchin' has a simply fetchin' weave! Mallard's extensions looks good, and so does 2-calories-a-day Greggy's weave! What the hell is wrong with Tamra's? If her hair is that bad she should just shave her head and get a snap on wig like Andy Warhol.
Yuck. She's so not fun anymore. Luckily, the girls in Texas ARE. They head off for some barbecue to slow down the absorption of alcohol. Someone must have warned the restaurant that the wingnuts were coming since they have this sign posted outside-
NOW I know why they didn't bring Tamra and Crackie.
They wouldn't be able to go anywhere!
They stumble in to a luscious display of meat, horse troughs of it, according to Greggy. They grab their grub and Mallard is drinking vodka on ice. Delicious! She eats and eats and then eats a piece of Fern's pecan pie (not THAT one) and has a food orgasm.
Hocuth, pocuth, flimmity flam! Arathmataz and Alacatham! So THATHT'S what real food tathes like!
Greggy says she's never seen Mallard eat so much food, ever, and all I can say is that I've never seen anyone eat it as slow as YOU, Greggy. It's like she's in a trance. Calories must do that to her. All her blood's rushing out of her brain in a panic, like, 'where do we go, what do we do? This has never happened before!'
Mallard interviews that she used to have an eating disorder. Now she just squirts ketchup on stuff so that she won't eat anymore of it. Greggy about loses her shit when she does it to the pecan pie.
Gee. THAT'S healthy.
Methinks Mallard isn't the only one with an eating disorder. This was pretty much the most fucked up meal I have ever watched anyone eat. I'm not even going to bother with which one of them was worse. Both of them need to check into a facility for body image problems. Oh, and pills, in Greggy's case. How much crap is she on, and how does she stay awake? She must have built up one heck of a tolerance, that's for sure!
Later, they hit another bar and Fern asks Mallard to dance. Mallard is barely conscious, so she agrees. Maybe she pretended Fern was Jimbo?
I'm so crathy, I don't know thith ithn't pothible!
They head on over to the bull ride where everyone hops aboard except for Greggy. Doctor's orders. Her tits are still testy and if she spins around too much, some of the food she wasn't able to puke up might dislodge and give her an esophageal embolism.
Retchin' must have rigged the deal because the bull goes super slow and she stays on the whole time. This is turning into a night of firsts. Looks like fun!
Finally, a REAL man!
They've terrorized the natives enough and pile into the limo to head back to the hotel. Mallard makes drunken noises and then says that Greggy's pout is bigger than hers. Whoopdeedo! You would think she'd be proud of her enhanced fellatio o-ring, but no-ooo. She's all insulted and shit and plotting revenge in the corner.
I'll get you, Mallard, I will...just as soon...as..the..thorazine...wears......off...
Would you believe me if I told you it was harder to grab a picture of her with her eyes open than it was to get one with them closed? It's a first for me too, folks. What an evening!
Buzz kill time. Dinner with Donn, Crackie and the Sue Bobs. Crackie won a free zamboni ride which is a travesty since she doesn't even know the name of the damn thing! She says Zambooka or something. Ingrate! Why does the best hockey stuff go to the morons who could care less? I dream of riding one and then accidentally falling into Kris Letang's locker afterwards. Crackie thinks a Letang is what French astronauts took to the moon!
Ed Flintstone and Tammy Headrock show up and Eddie leaves the table as soon as Tammy starts talking about Simon. She tries to compare what happened to her to what Crackie went through, but what about Simon? He had to look at your ugly mug every morning.
Now, that's abuse!
Donn is not amused by Simon getting arrested. Gee, I wonder if they're friends now. Wasn't Donn confiding in Simon last year? They must have a lot to talk about.
Tammy brings up Jeana's meddling, saying that she makes excuses for abusive men. Gee, who's the meddler now? What a piece of shit she is. This is partially why I don't buy her story. If she was really being abused, wouldn't she want someone who was REALLY abused to confide in? Not this phony baloney about Crackie being bossed around by her first husband. That's a load and we all know it.
Whatever, she's a bore, and crass to boot. When she finally notices that Eddie isn't back, she says he's probably diarrheal from dealing with her court shit all day. She's almost right. He's in the bathroom.
Having a courtship with a guy named Rio.
The next day, Tamra decides to meet with Jeana. She fake cries and asks why Jeana's been making HER look like the bad guy. Well, because you are! But, but, Tanny Sue didn't really want Simon arrested, pinkie swear! Jeana tells her that it was a lie since she called the cops after he was already gone. There was no more danger of being hurt and it was a pretty weaselly way to make him enroll in anger management.
Please, she was PISSED, she wasn't afraid of Simon!
Unless he threatened to feed her after midnight again.
I love Jeana for this, even if she can be a bit passive/aggressive. She tells Tamra that she shouldn't care so much about what others think. Why is she acting so upset? He just tossed her the leash. I think she made a mountain out of a molehill, whether Jeana's right about Tammy Sue Bob being jealous of Simon's new girlfriend or not. It all works out in the end.
And Jeana gets to pick up another Bravo paycheck.
How many shows is she on at this point, one on every network? Good lord, woman! Is real estate that bad? Anyway, Tamra can suck it if she's so pissed that her dirty laundry showed up on some blog. She tried the same shit with Gretchen and her blog, remember? She's guilty of exactly the same stuff she accuses others of doing.
Jeana's meddling? What do you call what you did with the Retchin' and the Jay Photoglou fiasco? Payback's a bitch, Tamra, and Karma will burn you.
Even if you're already HOT.
Later, she is at Eddie's and they're having dinner. This is a lovely opportunity for Ed to show how supportive he is, in light of her impending nervous breakdown. He tells her she's strong and she looks at him like he's crazy.
Wait! It's not midnight yet, is it?
I am so sick of her Gremlin face and fake pain. Quick, Eddie! Spritz her eyes with some vinegar, get those tears flowing. Tamra needs to cry and get it all out. She's never felt this way before!
Sniff.....I usually get my way..
What blatant propaganda! She dries her eyes up right quick and shows him something from Jeana's Facebook page about her needing her mouth to be taped shut all the time. What's wrong with that? It's true!
How stupid. Eddie has the patience of a saint. I got news for him, though. Dude, she's not worth it. You're not her knight in shining armor. Wake up! Do you want her to do the same things to you that she did to Simon?
Some more advice: You better not get poor!
Stupid people deserve each other. Pfft. Thanks for ruining what was a fun episode, cheeseboob. Will someone get her a real job so I don't have to watch her anymore? Can't she host Westminster or something? Isn't the Taliban hiring suicide bombers these days?
XOXO,
Your Twunt
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