Welcome back! This recap will also available as an audiobook podcast on iTunes, Stitcher, and Google Play. They’re free the week they’re released and then go to the premium feed. Find it at podbean. Thanks for the support!! xoxoxo – Ronnie
Previously on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Kim Twitchards got a shock.
“I’m havin’ a behbeh, KAHL!”
Also, Carnie Wilson force fed cheesecake to thin people while murmur/shouting “I tell all my friends. You can have one. Just eat one. EAT IT.”
Lisa Rinna did not. She did, however, “OWN IT!” Lots. She owned shit she didn’t even remember buying.
“I did Tupak! There I said it. I remember! With a candlestick in the library BABY!”
Carnie put a stop to Rinna’s confession rampage. She wouldn’t be distracted from her mission of bringing caloric healing to the masses. “Hey guys! I’m Carnie Wilson. I was a drunk. But now it’s all about CHEESECAAAAKE!”
Swish swish hills hills. A perfect breeze rolls over the midget donkey piss stained grass of Villa Rosa. We know that Lisa has Kyle on her mind, because she’s blatantly grooming a dog version of Kyle right now trying to control its ass.
Ken watches on in with that twinkle in his eye. Is he in love? Is it a waking coma? No one knows. Lisa brushes the matted broken Kyle mutt and taunts Giggy. “Are you so jealous you could jump, daaaahling?”
Could you put me on something higher?
If he jumps, it’s because he has a skin condition and he’s dressed in a felt coffin suit hot glue gunned together by your cleaning lady. In the summer. He jerks to life and does a dance I can only describe as uncomfortable.
Down in the streets where the barely rich live, Kyle carefully drives up in her Sorry About My Husband’s Tiny Penis car. She’s meeting Dorit for lunch. At the same time at a different restaurant, Erika not carefully drives up in her “My Husband Has Balls Down to His Feet and I Don’t Give a FUUUUUUUUUUUCK” car and parks it ten feet from the curb. She looks around for a “Must Give Fucks Between the Hours of 8-5” sign but doesn’t see one, so she leaves it there for people to go around.
She tells us her love of fast rides comes from being a redneck. In those days she rode go karts powered by lawn mower engines, of course, but the biggest change has been in her mindset, not her automobile. She realized young that if you’re gonna suck some homely dude’s dick for a sweet ride, you might as well a suck a rich homely dude’s dick for a sweet ride. And to that I say ROAR, WOMAN!
Eileen is waiting inside, presumably to talk about her feelings about her diarrhea/pink eye double whammy from last week. Thankfully, Erika opens the convo without asking how she is. Erika’s going home to visit her mom because she’s in “a play”. They both laugh. Eileen coos “That’s beyooooooond cute,” as if community theater isn’t one half step down from soap work.
Erika smiles. “Not just cute. INSPIRATIONAL.” She says that her mom moved into her grandparent’s house so she can concentrate on doing plays, or painting art, or playing Grand Theft Auto or just jerking off all day with a full bong surrounded by empty pizza boxes. What the fuck does she care? She has a house now. She got it through the death of her parents, which makes it kinda sad, but it also makes her the second chick in her family to score a house off the elderly. These two should partner up.
Over at Kyle and Dorit’s lunch, Dorit is using thirty accents to say really meaningless bullshit LA stuff like “Do ya know hew gorjuss ya ah Kahel?” and patting herself on the back for being brave enough to try out bangs.
Kyle tells her about a party she’s throwing at Forever Not 21 Anymore by Alene Kinda for The Fat Jewish. “I simpleh LOVE Barbara Streisand! Boy got himself locked in her basement mall once. He brought mah beck a fahtin’ cushun from Spencah Geefts!”
No, dodo. The Fat Jewish. From Instagram! Dorit blinks her bulging coke eyes, trying to pretend she’s not wondering why someone would name themselves Fat Jewish on purpose and whether or not he secretly follows @Jesus.
Kyle has lots of celebrity events at her store. For example…Dorit waits, wide eyed, to see who she can one up with her Boy George name drop. Kyle’s all “Uh…Nicki Hilton had her book signing there!”
“The Hotel wrote a book? Fascinating! I can barely find the energy to raise two disabled children and a Boy!”
Kyle decides to let it go. She got her store plug in, so she’s basically done filming now. The cameras keep rolling and Dorit is just sitting there blinking rapidly, trying to poke herself in the eyes with her new bangs so she’ll have something to talk about.
“So, that cheesecake party…”
Dorit blinks to life. “Keem Reechahds was a ragin’ rock stah last naht!” I can’t think of a raging rock star that’s not also a raging alcoholic. Probably not the best choice of words in this climate. Kyle shakes her head. “If people hear stuff like that about Kim…it’s like putting a flame to gas in this town!”
Yes, Kyle, I’m sure Beverly Hills would be SHOCKED to hear Kim’s an addict three months after being arrested, running away from her kid’s Mexican wedding and walking off the set of Dr. Phil. If a Kim falls in a forest but there’s not a Rinna around to blab about it, did it make a sound?
Eileen and Erika are talking about the same thing at their lunch. Eileen is proud to be an AmeRinnacan. Sure, she has a big mouth and starts fights with unstable addicts. On the bright side, she also starts fights with people Eileen doesn’t like. Besides. At least she’s not covert like SOME Lisas. I’m sorry we don’t know who you mean. Could you be less covert about it?
Speaking of Rinna, she’s at home yelling “SIT. SIT. SIT BABY! HUSSLE INTO THE SEATED POSITION, DOG BABY!” at her dog, who refuses to be manipulated. I hope Rinna’s learning something. She whips up a Xanax smoothie and tells us that she’s so glad this whole Kim Twitchards thing is over. Oh really? Who told you that?
Flashback to a cut scene from Carnie’s Food Addiction is More Widely Accepted Than Drug Addiction party. Rinna sat Twitch down on a white couch and asked if they could really, truly move forward. Kim smiled and nodded and thanked Rinna for the apology and checked her texts. “Ahmahgawd, Liza Rinnas.”
Rinna: Kim? You ok?
Kim: Liza, guess what? I’M HAVIN A BEHBEH LIZA RINNAS!
Rinna took that as a sign of peace, but girl, this Kim’s a Drunk storyline started before you got here, and it will be going on long after you leave. Still, she’s positive for now. “Holding onto anger is like poison, baby! I don’t drink poison!” Then she swigs the gallon of chemicals she just mixed together with prescription pills, proud of getting over the anger about the stuff she herself said about Kim.
Dorit, still at lunch with Kyle, says that Rinna keeps pulling the same shit over and over again and expecting everyone to forgive her. Kyle is pretty good at this game and senses a trap, so instead of being pulled on to this idiot’s “Lisa Rinna is a pill addict” bandwagon, she defends Rinna and says that she’s basically a good girl even if she messes up sometimes. Plus, she yelled at Kim for two seasons solid which left Kyle time to plug her businesses. That’s friendship.
Back over at Villa Rosa, Hanky is trying to eat his own butt. Someone finally searched Erika Jayne on YouTube!
Lisa feels kinda stymied by Kyle’s immediate forgiveness of Lisa Rinna. Last year, you guys, Lisa Vanderpump cried. Has she mentioned it? SHE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
Ken leans back in his sun chair, flanked by an assortment of little doggies in varying states of disrepair. Everything is pink. He nods and mumbles charming romantic things at everyone and no one.
Lisa brushes dog Kyle and repeats “We like Eden, not Rinna” over and over to it until it does as she asks. “If Rinna called me an enabler, that would be the end of it.” Um, you give paychecks to coke addicts and you sell liquor for a living. You’re the definition of an enabler. If you should be mad at anyone, it should be the girl who swore off your products for life.
As Kyle arrives at her Fat Jewish event, I can’t help but wonder if someone else had control of her evites and she didn’t read them before she sent them out. The guest of honor isn’t also the dress code.
You can work towards goals, you can score goals, but PLEASE. Please don’t wear them.
The Fat Jewish is a dude on Insta that finds funny stuff on the net, takes the creator’s name off it, and posts it as his own. Basically, he does to comedy what Kyle does to Claire’s and Dress Barn.
Kyle asks for his help. Rinna claims she can’t come to the party because she got the shits from Eileen, but she posted pics of herself buying shoes at Sax. LOL. He calls her cell, and she greets him the same way as she greets every stranger in life. “Helllloooooo! How aaaaare you! I’m so lucky you called! HARRY HAMLIN! THE PHONE RANG! Harry Hamlin says thank you for calling. Not sure quite who you are yet, but I know we’re gonna have a good relationship cuz it started off with a RING! GET IT BABY?”
He’s all “Hello this is the Fat Jewish.”
“Kyle I said I was sorry already!”
“No, honey. The other Fat Jewish. Creator of The Simpsons, Roseanne, and Two and a Half Men. Prove me wrong.” Click.
Rinna laughs, busted. She only went to the shoe store cuz it was next to the doctor and she doesn’t poop out of her feet so she felt it was safe. She’s lying her ass off, but I don’t blame her. The last party was about cheesecake, and this one has Fat in the title. Kyle’s trying to bring people up to her size, and Rinna’s not having any part of that. Plus, staying home gives her the added bonus of telling the world she got the shits after eating Carnie’s product to get back at the bitch for being a drunk.
Outside, Dorit stumbles out of her car like the powder brain she is. Laughing in eleven accents, she says “People look at mah an they think, look at hah! Soooo gorjass, and sah clutzeh! That’s tha fuhst supamodahl that doesn’t know how ta wahlk!”
The rest of the girls filter in as Camille wanders around with her usual half open, half puckered mouth sighing “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” to randos as she smushes her face up against theirs. Erika’s browsing upmarked plastic purses from Chinatown while she slurps rosé out of the bottle with a giant straw. Kyle comes over to her, her crossed eyes more crossed than usual due to the lack of oxygen her goal size dress is causing.
Erika, thinking it’s an emergency, pokes Kyle in the eye with her straw. “OW! That’s my eye!” Erika shrugs. “I was tryin’ to help.”
Vanderpump arrives and sets the flesh roomba on the floor to get to work. Poor Ken’s lint trap is gonna be full of pills from rayon blends when they get home, bless his still ticking heart. Kyle wants to introduce Lisa to the Fat Jewish. “Daaaaahling! You shouldn’t call someone fat and Jewish! It’s rude! Now. Where’s Mandy Patinkin?”
Fat Jewish gets Kyle on a couch, strips off his shirt, and gives her a lap dance. It’s disturbing. Mauri jumps in front of the camera. “You’re gonna need a bigger house for moves like that, brother!” Camera wink.
Erika watches on, slurping from the bottle. “She’s getting sweat on and crushed.” Low grumbling growl as she blows straw bubbles in her wine. “I get it.”
Erika’s with the husbands, and Dorit comes over to them. Ken mutters “I told Erika I’ve been talking to the fat jew all night!” PK turns red and jiggles his face a lot trying to not look like he’s gonna go into full on coke sobs. “Supa funny, old chap.”
Ken: The whole time I thought the old jew was PK!
PK: Yes, they get it. Hilaaarious.
Ken: Cuz you’re jewish! And really, really FAT!
Being able to publicly shout that someone is a fat Jew in 2017 has made Ken happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.
Erika compliments Dorit’s hair. “Whaaah theeeank ya Erehkah! That’s tha fuhst compluhmant ya’hve evah geeven mah!”
Erika stops blowing bubbles. “That’s not true. Member that time I told ya how pretty you were with your mouth shut?”
Dorit doesn’t understand why Erika doesn’t get her hilarious jokes. “I’ve had half English behbehs! Comedy is in mah behbeh’s jeans!” Erika rolls her eyes. I’m not an advocate of violence ever, but if Erika punched Dorit in the throat right now I wouldn’t be mad.
Lisa sees Dorit shitting the bed, so she comes over to make things worse. “Hello there Erika. I’d like to invite you to Hong Kong. Would it be rude to ask for your plane?”
Erika, not amused with spider lady, ices her. “Yes. That would be rude.” No smile. LOL. Vanderpump, the original vamp with zero fucks to give, keeps on. “You remember my rescue?” Erika looks at Dorit, a recently saved bitch who would have been much more pleasant after a nice long shot, and back at Lisa. “Of course. It’s your passion.” Like mom’s “play“.
Eileen walks up. “What’s your passion?” She twirls her hair and stares, waiting for Lisa to answer “Making wholesome innocent women look like whores on national TV for no reason.”
Instead, Vanderpump sighs with her whole face. “My passion is getting people to stop eating dogs.” Eileen looks at Kyle, who’s about to suffocate on her reality body in that goal dress. “Oh. Dogs. That’s good.”
Erika blurts “Hey Eileen wanna come to Hong Kong?”
Dorit snaps “Wait! Ya can’t invyte hah!”
Eileen, as any wise person would, pretends Dorit’s not there. “Are we bringing husbands? Vince has found the nanny cam and Hong Kong is too far to drive home from if he tries to find my ATM card.”
Eden, who’s been confronting a mannequin about its obvious meth addiction, is suddenly in the group. “I wanna come!” Vanderpump sighs more. “Invite the Fat Jewish gay, as well. Is this Alene Too person busy?”
Dorit, with only the best intentions, adds “You con’t exclyeude Leesa Rinnah! Hong Kong is tha pahfact place ta cowl hah a drug addeck!” Vanderpump agrees. It’s officially a cast trip to the Dog Sandwich Capital of the World. “We’re taking Erika’s plane, dahlings!”
Erika, still unsure of what’s a joke and what’s not (you can’t just grow a sense of humor), says with her Mrs. Girardi voice: “Unavailable.”
The next day, Vanderpump has Dorit, Erka, Dorit and Kyle over to try out her new Rosé: Nevah Rich Enough. She’s preparing three different salads for the tasting, if only to get the chance to tell America how goddamn sexy red cabbage is. Noted.
Dorit arrives first, of course. She looks around for all the guests, thinking this would be a surprise party to celebrate her bang courage. It’s not. Erika arrives and Dorit jumps her. “Hug mama, Erehkah! HUG MAMA! Deepah! You know ya love ya mamaaahh!”
Erika looks around for a ball to throw so this coked up fag hag bitch can fetch and leave her the fuck alone. Kyle arrives with news. You lost permanent feeling on your muffin top from that dress? “Kim is a grandma!” There are light “yay”s all around. The kid’s name is Hucksely. Oh, Twitch. Forcing your daughter to pay homage to the dog you had to put down for ripping off an old lady’s face by half naming her baby after him is…well it’s just so YOU. Congrats, betch! And cheers to you at whatever “farm” you’re at in the sky, Kingsley!
You’d never hurt anybuddeez, right Kinglseys? Stay with mama. Stay with mama.
Kyle interrupts my daydream. “I’m. So. HUNGRY.” Yes, Kyle. We know. Outside, Lisa seats Erika in view of the sunset, so she has something pretty to look at while she gets nagged. Maybe she won’t get defensive if Lisa reminds her that she lives in hills with more expensive zip codes.
“Erika, dahling, I have a bone to pick with you young lady bad girl nanny boo boo you get a time out.” The Erika I know would barely resist forking the old lady with all three of her salad forks right now, but this Erika…cackles. This seems like a silly, nothing scene, but it’s really a turning point in my relationship with EJ. She’s finally learned how to love Vanderpump: by fucking with her.
I get teary. Erika can’t laugh at herself quite yet, but she can laugh at others and that’s what we call A START! WELL DONE BETCH YASS EVERYTHANG!
Vanderpump smiles. “I wouldn’t have invited her, of course. The trip is to protest torturing bitches. What kind of example would I be by bringing one to throw on the sandwich table? She does have some Instagram followers, though, which makes her useful, so she can have a seat on Tom’s plane.”
Lisa has talked about this so much that she’s actually normalizing dogs as food to people who never think about it otherwise. Twitter group-thought can build entire industries. One day, semi celebrities tweet about dog sandwiches, the next day Subway comes out with a Beethoven Panini because dog meat had good social numbers. Stop manipulating us all into eating dogs, VANDERPUMP.
If Lisa has to put up with Eileen, Kyle’s gotta deal with Eden. She knows she’s gonna get spooned by that crazy heifer, but she hasn’t been the small spoon in awhile, so she’s not sure how to feel.
Lisa tells Kyle that she’d like Eden if she just gave her a chance. Everyone laughs. I love this show. Erika Jayne, on a fucking with Vanderpump winning streak, says “Like you and Eileen.” Vanderpump slumps defensively. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen a defensive slump. She did like Eileen. Eileen didn’t like her. You can’t yell at the one who got dumped.
Dorit, like a confused Chihuahua blindly attacking a postal worker, jumps to her defense. “Well, I don’t know about EILEEEEENAH! I woodn’a trust ha with mah inna most seyecrets!” That’s Doritspeak for “I can’t do coke with that girl.”
Erika rolls her eyes. No one’s writing an award winning picture based on your life, Dorit. Mushy headed baby and the boy who squeaks do not a road to Oscar cobble. Innermost secrets. Get the fuck outta here with that.
Erika gets all cold. “You shouldn’t trust anyone but your husband.”
No one has ever, EVER told Dorit that she should trust her husband. Like. Ever. Her coke eyes bulge, stupidly. It’s kinda the worst advice ever and she’s not sure how to react.
She deflects. “Ya know what Ayrahkeh?” The ladies look at each other like “Who the fuck is Ayrahkeh?”
“I’d loike ta thenk I ken trost meh friends!” OK, Shrek. Did you just get reborn in a bowl of Lucky Charms?
Erika won’t trust Dorit because she’s a twit. No, wait. It’s because Erika has feels you guys. Mommy issues! My favorite. No wonder she likes gay dudes so much.
She tells us that she won’t allow herself to feel trust because of a momery. Her mom was always too trusting. “I can remember her in a purple polo crying cuz a man left her and I remember looking at and thinking I will never be that fucking weak. I’ll find a man who walks reeeeeeally slowly so he can’t run away and if he tries any funny business I’ll smother him in his sleep and live like a fucking queen the rest of my fucks not giving days.”
I’m getting the sense that Erika places the blame in this story on the purple polo.
She tells Dorit that she had an eccentric mom and her first thought in a new friendship is about how to get cash out of the wallet on the nightstand without making the bed creak cuz men are all users and women are all jealous. Dorit’s not really listening, cuz what Erika is doing right now is explaining her deep mommy issues and you’re interrupting her to accuse her of not opening up. This will turn into a “Boy George left his knickahs een tha deshwashin’ ma-sheen agahn!” story any minute.
Dorit laments the fact that Erika won’t let her in. Erika just looks at her like “You really are one dumb bitch, ain’t ya?”
Kyle gets Erika. She gets judged a lot so she’s defensive. Yeah, but she gets judged on purpose. People give her shit for acting like a whore and marrying an old dude and bragging about planes and hiring friends and stuff, but they just misunderstand her. She does all that to give people reasons not to like her off the bat so she doesn’t have to pace around all night wondering why no one’s calling her. A rare animal that lives on a diet of constant “I don’t give a fuck”s.
I’m no medical professional, but I do know this: the only reason anyone would spell Expensive incorrectly and with shift+number symbols is because they want people to call them a fucking idiot.
Also, beyond all this stupid stoner psych: Erika doesn’t open up to you, Dorit, because you’re a vapid, shallow, twit of a human being. It’s human instinct to cross the street when you’re walking up it. Erika’s too nice to say that, so she rests her case on purple polo and looks around for a way out of there. And then her best friend arrives at the table. A bottle of rosé. “I could stay for awhile.”
Somewhere in Temecula or God knows where, Kyle has made the pilgrimage to Twitch’s new condo. Is there some kind of novena you can buy someone to not get evicted this time? She’s brought a giant wicker cut trap bassinet Faye Resnick mail ordered from China in the nineties filled with Mad Libs and condoms.
Kim’s all “Welcome ta parahdass, KAHL! Is that the car from Gunzmokes?” Kyle drags the hideous death trap in. “Don’t scratje tha floors, KAHL! They’re made outta rubber I think. I bounce ride off em thad’s fer sher.”
Kyle’s all “So……? You’re a grandma!” Kim freaks, as it’s the first time she’s heard it in this five minute span. “KAAAHL! KAHL I’m a grandmama! To a grandbaby KAHL!” She jumps up and down like she’s tryin to get picked on Price is Right.
“Bein in thad room was the mozd amazin thing ah can remember in mah whole life, Kahl. Wait. I remembered something else good…it’s gone. When I saw that behbeh I was (twitch and freeze. Pause. Twitch and freeze.)
Kyle tries to guess. “Popcorn? Robot? Are you a cat now? Kim, stop chasing your tail Kim. Kim.”
Kim sits on the couch, dizzy. Kyle tells her she’s going to Hong Kong. Kim scrunches her face. She has some shady back story with Hong Kong I need to hear immediately. “Why?” Kyle almost tells her about the fight against dog sandwiches, but considering Kim just half named her grandkid after her missing dog, it might be too soon.
Twitch is mad about the cheesecake incident. Yes, she smiled with Liza Rinnas on a white couch and hugged her and said the hatchet was buried forever and all time Amen. But still. Kim never saw the hatchet and if it was buried she wasn’t given a map, and the only time she prays is when they make her do it before lunch in jail. Therefore she never has to pay rent on this apartment ever.
Girl, shrug. Kyle agrees, lovingly. She assures Kim that her sobriety can now revert to being Kyle’s storyline again. It will be good for the store.
Erika boards Don Rickles Air at sunset flanked by a couple of her pay for gays, giving zero fucks. She sits in between the gayployees, waxing on dreamily about her quaint backstory. A girl like me, on this private jet with leathery style gays that my blowjobs to Don Rickles created, on her way to the root of it all. Conyers, Georgia.
She updates them on their shooting pages for the day. “We start at granma’s house. My mom moved in there to do a play. If she’s wearing a purple polo we’re out of here.” They’re like “Wow! Girl! YASS! Quaint! Cute!” They’re the only words Laya had time to program into them before they were shipped to the airport.
They arrive at a house that could be any of the houses on Matlock. They gays are “Wow! Cute! Quaint!”ing themselves into a tizzy. If they didn’t have to carry her bags, they’d be snapchatting all this shit right here. It’s their Dollywood.
Her mom’s at rehearsal, so her fiancee Chip greets them. Erika’s nice to her mom’s current most likely emotionally abusive partner, but she didn’t pick him and there’s no way she’s doing a scene with his pasty ass. She sends him off to his lazy boy and takes the gays upstairs, where she fingers pictures of herself and her mom and tells stories of her Grandma’s illness.
She had Alzheimers, ya see. A disease that chips away at you until before you know it, you forget … where was I? Oh right. Yes, Erika. We know. We’ve watched Ken todd mumbling to himself for seven years now. Welcome to the party.
Watching someone lose themselves so gradually is inhumane, which is why Erika’s got a little locked box full of Drano syringes for the day Don Rickles poops the bed.
She squirts out some salties for the gays.
“Yeah. Cute wow. Quirky?”
She didn’t wanna cry any more anyway. It’s gross. Besides, wasn’t that the sound of her mom coming through the door? Erika knows that sound. It’s always shut a little bit too dramatically. Cuz community theater. The gays are glad to be at a new ride. They giggle and fawn all over Erika Number Three. She’s wearing a Pat the Puss shirt, which is literally cute and wow and quirky. Erika laughs. “Mom! You’re embarrassing me!”
You? She’s the one walking around in public pointing at her shirt and having to say “This is my kid!” over and over. Let’s call you guys even.
Erika tells the gays (us this time) about always waking up to her mom’s gorgeous piano music on Saturday mornings. Were you sleeping under the piano? Cuz I think it damaged your pitch. No offense.
She would fight with her mom over piano lessons, so she switched to dancing, where she learned to swallow her fist. Her mom was rough. “You want something? Go to work! She believed in teaching a kid to swim by throwing you into the deep end to drown if you can’t figure it out. It’s why I don’t have a gag reflex.”
I personally believe in child labor and strong swimming skills, so I’m pro mom right now. Erika waves the gays off and sits down with her mom at the kitchen table. “How’s the play?”
Mom is thankful for the opportunity to perform. It gives her a chance to meet guys who are possibly better than pasty Chip and she can memorize stuff just in case she has to prep for Alzheimers. That’s not a very well thought out plan, but I support you dumping Chip, hon.
Erika gives gentle approval and commends her mom on expressing herself in that “I’m so sorry you’re in a PLAY” voice people get.
Lisa Vanderpump is in her new Broken Ho Dog Rescue space. She runs up the stairs to slide down the bannister and makes it halfway down before her camel toe and really tight denim almost get in a really messy street fight.
This isn’t just gonna be a dog rescue, it’s gonna be a SEXY dog rescue. A lifestyle shop for dogs, if you will. You can buy dog bras there and stuffed Hankys and you get the honest excitement of not really knowing if any of the fluffy dogs around you will make it to Christmas. That’s a gift you can’t wrap, people. It’s like a final fabulous gay sendoff for the ones who don’t make it and a christening for the dogs the drunk girls who wander in off the street take home for a couple weeks before leaving them in a parking lot.
Rinna’s been summoned. She enters as she always enters. “WOW! WOAH! Is this a? This building! Those ceilings! This floor! It’s a…wow! Look at this! Look at you! And you! Hi! Hi! Hi! You over there with the clip board HOW ARE YOU?”
Vanderpump flicks her in the forehead to shut her up and lays out her deal. “Dahling, you’re exhausting. I’ve decided to put my disgust with you on hold so that you may have the honor of tweeting nice things about my dog meat project.”
Rinna: The dog sandwich stores? Great idea, baby! So many people are allergic to gluten, though. Will you do bowls? I LOVE BOWLS. There’s rice, vegetables, in this case dogs which is unique but why not? We eat cows and they have lines in commercials. Who am I to judge BABY?
Vanderpump reminds her that the campaign is against dog sandwiches. Rinna blinks a lot. “Right. Dog sandwiches. Gross, that’s what I say.”
“So you’ll retweet what I need you to and post a couple of original photos sent to you by my team on Instagram?”
“Tweets. I like tweets.”
Vanderpump: And put us on your SnapChats?
Rinna: My ghost is your ghost.
Vanderpump: And you’ll be mean to Eileen for me?
Rinna: Eileen deserves whatever I’m gonna forget doing later.
Vanderpump: And you’ll give me your eyelashes?
Rinna: (rips them off) DONE.
Vanderpump: And in return you get nothing.
Rinna: I’m a light traveller. All I need is a wing and a prayer.
Vanderpump: You can’t have either.
Rinna: Don’t need em.
Vanderpump: It’s a deal. You can come to Hong Kong.
Rinna: I WIN!
When she finds out what Hong Kong is, she’s gonna be pissed. This ain’t a Mauri real estate ad on the beach, betch.
Vanderpump cackles in a ballgown during her diary room session. “I really can manipulate the shit out of her.” Still got it!
Back in Georgia, Erika and her mom visit the cemetery to see grandma. As they get in the golf kart, mom warns “This is a GOLF cart, Erika Jayne, not a GO kart. You’re not paying for this with beejers.”
If Erika writes a song about this moment, it will be called ughmomur3mbrr$ngme. They sit at the grave.
“When was the last time you were here, Erika?” Erika pouts. “Don’t you remember when that lizard jumped on my leg?”
She remembers. That lizard jumped on your leg and took you off to a crazy land called Pasadena and gave you planes and mansions and a new face and enough money to pretend you’re Britney Spears. Mom’ll never forget that lizard. Or forgive him.
Erika pushes her eyes in. “I don’t wanna cry.” Cry? She must have been talking about a literal lizard jumping on her leg. She wouldn’t get this upset over a John.
“You didn’t cry as a kid, either.”
Erika nods her YOU DID THIS TO ME MOTHER! nod, which her mom has seen many, many times. She nods back with a sense of pride. “I made you a tough ole bird.”
Erika tells us that she has no patience for cry babies or people who need support. “It makes me not like them.” And yet you married a man you’re gonna have to hose down nightly within the decade. Not buyin’ it.
Still, Erika’s happy that her mom admitted to being tough on her, even though there was no apology for it, basically because it confirms that the feelings of emotional neglect weren’t in her head.
Her mom soothes her. “You’re good. Good to your family, good to those orange rubber homosexual gentlemen, good to any man with loose change in his pocket, good to teenagers with an internet connection…”
Erika: And a good daughter?
Mom: I didn’t call for mah line, Erika! You’re grounded.