Well Trashcrabs, here we are again. Like the tides of the Chesapeake, crashing back on the sands of Maryland’s shore, we’ve returned to Potomac, refreshed, revitalized and renewed. Churning, blowing, blustering. Ready to batter this sleepy little town with a terrible, almighty storm.
Season 3 of Potomac finds the ladies in their sweet spot: attune to the fine machinations that make reality television work, but not so hardened by manufactured drama and undeserved fame that they’ve lost all shreds of their humanity (or what’s left of it). They’ve also fallen into the roles that took the two previous seasons to cultivate, and are adapting to their “characters” quite well: Gizelle, the sassy single girl, Ashley, the naive baby of the group who vastly overestimates her experience, Robyn, the cool-headed one whose life is otherwise boring (and poor)(and plagued by a toxic relationship), and Karen, the inimitable star of this freak show. A woman whose ego is larger than life. A certified lunatic who will make this whole science experience worth the mass fatalities that follow.
At this point in Potomac’s tenure, the Housewives are also confident enough to finally get weird about shit – to pull off ridiculous, laughable stunts that they tout as serious emotional therapy. Case in point: this week’s “press conference.” They’re venturing into the sort of bizarre, unprecedented plane of human behavior that makes shows like Real Housewives of New York such a treat. I’m actually kind of excited for this round!
Before we get into it, a few programming notes: first, I missed the premiere because I was ACTUALLY IN POTOMAC, spending the Easter holiday with my fam. If you’re new to this blog you should know that one of the only reasons I feel obligated to recap this American Horror Story is because I’m from Potomac and know it not to be the pretentious cesspool these ladies make it out to be. And secondly: I’ve been shopping around different cable options, so please forgive the grace period I needed to finally watch the show and screencap it properly. As you’ll see in this recap, I’m still getting the hang of it. So pardon the various porn pop-ups that are visible in the images.
Kidding – I buy all my porn at a store downtown. #shoplocal
OK – let’s briefly catch up and then on with the recap.
In the season premiere, we learn that Gizelle found a new
father cuckold boyfriend at the gym, whom she enticed by doing all sorts of sorcery with her butt and a treadmill; Robyn obviously never left Juan, but that might (big “might”) be OK since Juan found a job, is able to move his family into a bigger home, and is occasionally doing nice things for Robyn like smiling and looking her in the eye when he mumbles and penetrating her occasionally; Monique is still lumbering around her obscenely humongous house with her obscenely humongous husband, acting as if being disgustingly rich with no job is a problem, compounded by the fact that all of her “assistants” (read: non-wealthy family members) quit on her; Ashley has made the same mistake twice and gotten back with her gay Gollum of a husband, Michael (who allowed Ashley to make multiple trips all over Northern Virginia so she could lug all of her shit in a tiny sports car, instead of hiring her a moving van – nice); Charrisse got drunk last night and didn’t wake up in time to fill out her application for Season 3; and Karen… oh god, let’s talk about Karen.
Karen got a special Headline Montage treatment last week because her husband, Dr. Black Bill Gates Rockefeller Esq., DDS MBA VIP, owes a crap load of cheddar to the IRS. Oh, how awfully, ruinously dreadful that is for her. How deliciously, marvelously scintillating it is for us. Karen, who up till now talked incessantly (and grossly) about how much passion (and bodily fluids) she and her husband shared, has briskly built an emotional wall between herself and Ray. And from her side of the wall, she’s telling La-Dee Da-Dee Anybody about how none of this icky tax stuff has anything to do with her. Ray told her nothing! she insists, crying indignantly, pressing her mouth into a hard line and getting off on the torrid white anger coursing through her veins. Much as she doesn’t want to own it, however, she is basically the new Teresa Giudice. Congrats, Karen! There’s a fancy title to engrave on your crown. You used your husband like a piggy bank, loudly bragging about what a powerful entrepreneur he is, swiping his credit cards so hard and fast they melted in your hands, but take comfort in the fact that you didn’t know how deeply you were burning through his livelihood. Flip a table, maybe it’ll make you feel better.
Anyway, that’s basically where the premiere brought us. Oh! And new taglines:
Gizelle: “If you can’t handle me being the word on the street, then stop listening.” (sorry Gizelle were you saying something)
Karen: “Baby don’t believe what you hear. The grande dame still holds center court.” (can someone tell Karen that “center court” is a sports thing and not a royalty thing)
Monique: “You’ll never put me in a box because I’m the whole darn package.” (Monique’s main story line this year will be unpacking boxes, can’t wait)
Robyn: “Life has its ups and downs, but my game is on the rebound.” (Robyn likes basketball and pretty much nothing else)
Ashley: “You may say I cause trouble, but I say I keep things interesting.” (Ashley thinks being a 29-year-old who ruins businesses is cute)
Candiace: “Life is a pageant and I’m in it to win it.” (This just makes me wish I were recapping Toddlers & Tiaras 🙁 )
We open on Monique, who’s “working” “hard” or something on getting her house together. By that I mean she’s lamely dragging a five-foot rug across the foyer and watching men in booties do all the heavy lifting. Fortunately for her, Chris has taken the tiny little hairless werewolves that jump and whine and say the word “mom” a lot out of the house so Monique can finally get some peace and quiet. Too bad she’s got a date with Karen, an over-animated character from the Madagascar movies who does nothing but rub her furry paws together and talk about herself.
Since Karen is just here for some casual drinks with a friend and not to spread the false propaganda that she is definitely still rich, she rolls up in this modest vehicle and understated garment:
Bravo’s chyron flashes in to remind us that this atrocity (the car, not Karen’s idiotic track suit) costs ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND MOTHER FUCKING DOLLARS. Since Karen drove up in what is the equivalent of a small house in middle America, she is far more gracious entering Monique’s home as she was the first time, when she scowled at everything and made the whole conversation about Karen Huger. Truly, Monique has done an amazing job at telling people to decorate her house for her, and it looks gorgeous. Karen is not in a position to burn bridges right now, especially when those bridges lead to millionaire friends, so she is polite and gushes to Monique about all the beautiful furniture and the dumbass aquarium in the center of everything.
I will never understand why people choose to bring a high-maintenance, entire ecosystem into their living space, but for Monique I guess it’s so she can show off some expensive fish that you’re not allowed to eat and are each individually named after one of the Housewives. The sand shark in her tank is called “The Grande Dame” because he’s a pushy asshole who doesn’t let any of the other fish get food at feeding time. So get it, he’s like a metaphor for Karen. And attention. Whoa Monique, you deep.
Monique and Karen and Karen’s hideous pink track-slash-cat suit sit down in Monique’s den, where Monique finally asks Karen how she’s dealing with all this… stuff. Karen lets out an exasperated sigh and puts on her impenetrable victim face:
To her credit, she answers pretty honestly (in a very obviously rehearsed way, but I can’t fault her for sounding genuine) that she’s worried for Ray, and that she feels like her world “crumbled beneath her feet.” Monique sympathizes that on top of everything, Karen is going through this publicly. As Karen says in her confessional, she’s grateful to have a supportive friend during all of this and is glad Monique isn’t a “gossipy batch” (as an aside, Karen for some reason has started using the word “BATCH” as opposed to “bitch” this season – I hate it and love it at the same time).
Fast forward to the gossipy batches.
Gizelle visits Robyn out in Hanover, since Robyn has shamelessly and officially taken on the mantle of the sole Real Housewife of Baltimore. God, I thought Karen had it bad. Robyn explains how she and Juan are moving on up to a less-cramped townhouse, which Gizelle begins to assume means that they’re getting out of the exurb snoozefest in which they’re currently living. But nope! They’re just moving to a bigger townhouse down the street, to stay “close to Juan’s job.” Which is a valid enough excuse (he’s now coaching for Coppin State University in the Northeastern part of the city), but I’d also be OK if Robyn chose to remind Gizelle – and the world – that she and Juan still need to be fiscally conservative.
Gizelle also asks how Robyn’s love life is going. Robyn offers a shy smile and says “it’s okaaaaayyyy, I guessssss…” which is still pretty deflating but it’s less depressing than when she used to say “it’s okay, I guess,” looking stoned out of her gourd and on the consistent verge of tears. Robyn deflects easily from talking about Juan by asking Gizelle about her new boyfriend Sherman. Gizelle starts giddily bouncing up and down in her seat, squealing out the word “Sherrrrrmeeeee!” over and over, so good for her and good for Robyn and good for Being Just Okay.
Upstairs, Gizelle sits on the bed as Robyn puts away laundry, because the only thing Robyn does on this show besides lie about being happy is fold laundry. The two of them agree that Karen is a liar.
Robyn holding my “Screenshot saved” notification, frowning at me for not learning how tf to do this yet
At Monique’s house, Monique – as gently as she can – asks Karen how in the world she didn’t know that her husband owed $5 million in back taxes (her approach is to admit that while Chris is the “breadwinner,” she herself is the “manager,” and thus has a full understanding of their resources). Karen explains that unlike Monique and Chris, she and Ray don’t share a joint account. Then Monique does, um, pretty much the most hilarious thing I’ve seen on this show, and I’m SO MAD I couldn’t get a screenshot. Sling TV, you will bend to my will one day, you fickle whore.
Flash to Monique’s confessional. She is having a conniption, contorting her face this way and that and screaming about what a moron Karen is. “UHHHHHHH… YALL STILL DON’T HAVE A JOINT AKKANT? RULLY? HE DON’T TRUST YOU? OR YOU DON’T TRUST HIM.” It was one of my favorite confessional moments of all time and one thing I am realizing about Monique is that girl has some FIRE reactions. She would be amazing on the new Queer Eye. If she were a gay dude and also about mm, 500% less self-centered.
Anyway, the four ladies all get to talking about the lunch Karen and Robyn had where Robyn questioned Karen’s candor (which, I hate to agree with Karen, but that’s pretty hypocritical coming from Robyn) and Robyn admitted that after Karen told her about the tax thing, Robyn shared the news with the rest of the women. This made Karen borderline violent, as she confesses to Monique that she wanted to punch Robyn to the ceiling. Which is fair, until you remember the fact that the space between Karen “learning” about all of “Ray’s” financial trouble and the news going public was literally two hours, so it’s not like Robyn was holding on to some precious secret.
While Monique listens to Robyn with an understanding pout, Robyn and Gizelle laugh about all the stupid fucking one-liners Karen (as Robyn accurately guesses) rehearsed in the mirror before the lunch, like “it takes millions to owe millions,” and “Karen Huger ain’t broke; Karen Huger is loaded.” Meanwhile, with Monique, Karen pukes out some more stupid sentences she thinks are going to make good soundbites in Bravo’s promotions. Something about claws and scratches and tears and honestly I know I’m the recapper here but I literally forgot what Karen was spitting out five seconds after it happened.
It’s time for the Shermanator! I basically watched this whole scene with this playing in my head.
So Gizelle is seeing a new dude who is big and intimidating and looks like a body guard from a badly drawn Disney movie. He also picks Gizelle up for dates in a massive “limo” that’s really just like four SUVs human-centipeded into each other and is FAR too large for two people going to a winery. But these grand, unnecessary gestures are exactly the sort of thing that Gizelle swoons for, so naturally, she’s in seventh heaven with Sherman and has been dating him for over a year.
To be fair also, I’m pretty positive that the vineyard they visit is one of the same ones my parents and cousin and friends took me to on a HUGE, MORTIFYING PARTY BUS the day I turned 30, but considering I was literally comatose for most of the day I wouldn’t be able to confirm. Gizelle and Sherman set up a nice little picnic there and they do all of that yucky mushy stuff like feed each other strawberries and talk about how much they love each other and vaguely entertain the idea of moving in together and blending their six-kid family. But considering that Gizelle isn’t being a sardonic, Stage Four Bitch to her date, like she was with her last boyfriends, and is actually enjoying herself here, I don’t mind. It’s nice to see her edges sanded off. And then Sherman and Gizelle run off to have sex in the grape vines. Now I really wish I remembered the name of that place so I’d know what 2017 chardonnay to avoid in the future.
In Arlington, Michael is also making the same mistake twice and has allowed Ashley back at his restaurant Oz, to serve abominable food abortions and steal all the Coronas from underneath the bar. But Ashley assures us that the restaurant is now on track, making money, and her marriage isn’t too far behind.
Because her last event went so famously, Ashley is hosting another high-profile affair known as the Sip with Socialites “Bliss Brunch.” This is where we meet our fresh, bloody piece of new meat: Candiace.
Candiace, whose name is pronounced “Candace” and not like “Candy Ace,” which sounds like a stripper that mainly dresses up like a slutty pilot, is a veteran of the DC pageant circuit (which is where she met Ashley). Candiace won Miss United States (NOT Miss USA and NOT Miss America) while Ashley met a gorgeous Sphynx cat with lots of money and decided to settle down and marry him.
Ashley quickly introduces her to Monique, and makes it obvious that she only invited the “young” Housewives to her brunch because she is an ageist brat. Ashley mentions that Monique’s husband Chris used to play for the Redskins. Candiace jumps up like she was just struck by lightening, crossing her hands in front of her face and pointing wildly to her diamond ring. “That’s so funny!” she chirps, “my fiance’s name is Chris!” Oh my god, what are the odds of someone being named Chris and not something bizarre like Candiace? Clearly Candiace and Monique are going to have a lot in common. Imagine how many hours they’ll spend on their patios, talking about what it’s like to bang a guy named Chris.
Or perhaps not. Monique narrows her eyes and stares at Candiace like a lioness, sizing up her perfect ass and her face like a 12-year-old and the monstrously huge rock on her hand. After the ladies sit down to their six-hour brunch, which I swear I’m not judging because I have been kicked out of many a dining establishment myself after I (not kidding) literally cleared out their champagne supply and tried to hit on the waiter, the girls sit down and Monique and Ashley talk briefly about Ashley’s not-sham re-marriage to Michael. Then, Monique tells Ashley about Karen’s recent drop-in, casually noting that Karen downed a whole bottle of champagne before she got back in her $100,000 Jaguar to make the 50-minute drive across the Beltway, over the River, and back to Great Falls.
The two of them wonder in that insidious, falsely concerned way how Karen’s doing. They smile with wide eyes, shaking their heads as they communicate their shared schadenfreude without words. Ashley lets out a belch, leans back in her chair, and screams across the restaurant for some guy named Zack to bring her a Corona Light.
I give you the Hostess to DC’s Sip with Socialites Bliss Brunch
While Ashley sucks the life out of her cerveza, Monique and Candiace get to talking and not more than 30 seconds pass by before they’re humping each other on top of the table. Or rather, leaning back and snapping at each other and guffawing over all of their fateful similarities.
OMG! Candiace went to Howard and Monique has a sister who went to Howard! Candiace has known her fiance CHRIS for four years and Monique knew her husband CHRIS for four years before they started dating! They both like rap! They’re instant best friends forever and ever. Nay, they calibrate: they are now sisters.
This clearly means that they are going to hate each other within in four episodes.
Soon, Monique is thoroughly lit, warning Candiace that all the women in the group she’s about to join are “fake proper.” No one cares and everyone sloshes more wine across each other. Yay sisterhood!
In Hanover, the Dixons are slowly but surely moving their asses out of the small townhouse and into the bigger one down the street. Robyn happens upon the wedding gifts she and Juan received some 10, many more functional years ago:
Juan smiles with embarrassment and encourages Robyn to just give that shit away because they’ll never use it (also they remind him of the wife he tried to divorce but still insists on staying around to keep his kids alive). The whole discovery leads Robyn down that very tired song we’ve heard a million times before on this show about how she’s stuck with Juan through thick and thin, since their childhood days when they first met, and he was penniless.
This monologue then turns into an indictment of Ashley, which is fair but kind of late at this point?, who Robyn thinks is a know-it-all and child for judging other people’s marriages when her rich
naked mole rat husband came so easily to her. OK! I don’t care. Why is this still a thing. Why is Robyn still a thing.
Out in Great Falls, Karen is moping around her house again, depositing herself on different sofas for a minute, then getting up, sighing dramatically, and doing it all over again. Sitting, standing, sighing. Checking her phone. Feeling victimized. Wondering hotly why her friends who she has verbally abused in the past are not unconditionally supporting her.
Finally, she decides to call all the girls and invite them to a PRESS CONFERENCE. Over the connection you can barely here Gizelle snap her head back and go, “I’m sorry, what?” In her confessional, Gizelle explains that this whole idea is moronic, especially because Karen will clearly only share information they already know (“I can read the Washington Post, Karen”), but because holy shit how bizarre is this whole thing, Gizelle agrees to attend: “this is going to be GOOD,” she says, salivating.
Later, Candiace takes her fiance (or “susband – soon-to-be-husband”) Chris out for day drinks at a bar. I guess this is supposed to be our introductory lens into Candiace but to be honest with you, it’s completely forgettable. Candiace doesn’t really reveal anything about herself other than the fact that she’s one of those girls who LOVES being engaged. Even though Chris is, by my account, kind of a nice, indistinguishable guy who sort of looks like a penis…
… Candiace is obsessed with their very unremarkable love story. They met at a restaurant they both worked at (how did this girl go from working at a restaurant to Real Housewives?), and eventually he flew both their families into town for his proposal to her. She says (with a little too much glee) that she was raised “affluent,” and he’s a divorcé with three kids by two different women. That’s… pretty much it. I’m sure Candiace will serve as a perfect answer to Katie Rost’s princess-esque delusion and bridezilla behavior patterns, but for now – on her own – there’s just not a lot of there there.
Candiace finds a hole in the crotch of Chris’ jeans and jams her hand up there. They get oysters and Candiace refuses to eat any that “look like vaginas.” Guys, I’m not wrong about the Katie Rost parallel.
Downtown, Karen is setting up for her bullshit “press conference” in the empty room of a steakhouse, where she’s generously put out glasses of water, pencils, and peanuts with the shells on. Because nothing says “take me seriously” like handing your guests the same sort of messy junk food you find littering the ground of Yankee Stadium. She’s also wearing her second ill-advised, heinous track suit of the week:
If you’re wondering who that Young Republican is on her arm, carrying that florid bouquet of No. 2 pencils, it’s Matt, a member of her “management team.” Because Karen, a person with no discernible talent or career, who is living off the defaulting capital of her husband, needs to pay a management team. Are we all on the same page? Do you also smell burnt toast? Great, let’s move on.
Robyn and Gizelle are getting ready at Gizelle’s house. Gizelle muses about all of the funny tshirts they could make for this charade, calling Karen “Sean Spicer” and wondering if the shirts should say something like “Tax Reform” or “Free Uncle Ben.” I admire her for bringing politics into this. We are living in hell and everything is awful so I’m not even bothered that the drunk women I watch on Bravo (as I get drunk) are making jokes about the goings-on in Washington (which is another thing I watch as I get drunk)(and cry).
I want Gizelle to start selling these and give none of the proceeds to Karen
Once everyone arrives and they are all sitting down to their unfiltered water, pencils, peanuts, and sheets of evidence proving what vicious tweets they’ve sent (god doesn’t this thing sound like a fucking party)…
… Karen wastes no time getting down to business, explaining the terms of this poorly dubbed “press conference” (with no press). She brought the girls together because she is very hurt, and this discussion will call on each lady to speak openly and transparently. If anyone gets into “attack mode,” Karen will “abruptly end this meeting.” I would waste no time in saying something combative so I could get the fuck out of there and roll on over to a Chick-fil-A.
Everyone is super confused by the tenor of Karen’s meeting, particularly with Matt – a virtual stranger to all of them – sitting at the center of the table. Gizelle points to him questioningly: “Why is he here? This white guy?”
Karen explains that he’s a mediator. Monique whines that they could at least order a drink or something.
Karen orders Matt up to go fetch some alcohol, benevolently. Gizelle is still scratching her head about Matt’s role: “It’s clearly not the accountant because if he was he would be FIIII-YERRRRRRED, and it’s clearly not her hair stylist because we know the deal.”
Ashley asks how long Karen and Matt have known each other. She scoffs at their assertion that it’s been 12 years, mostly because none of the other ladies have met him and also because “what, did Karen meet him when he was 13?”
Karen then passes out the scrolls of nasty tweets that mostly Gizelle sent out in the wake of the tax news. Monique starts reading them and collapses into a fit of giggles.
God dammit, Monique is growing on me.
Karen starts flapping her print-outs around, grimacing and demanding to Gizelle, “who does this?” Gizelle has to give Karen a rudimentary lesson on how Twitter and re-tweets work before she calmly explains that all of the girls were curious to know what was going on, and since they didn’t get the information from Karen, they gleaned it from Twitter. And Karen, get real. You are on THE REAL HOUSEWIVES. If you expect your costars to treat you with kid gloves on Twitter – which is the main place you all interact when you’re not on camera – you are dreaming.
As the girls begin to ask questions about Karen’s move again, giving her the opportunity to explain herself because what the fuck else is this pretend Kiddie Press Konference for, Monique starts to take notes with the paper and pencil Karen supplied. Karen snaps at her to stop, since this is not a “No-No Karen Lunch.” It was clearly a get-together called for the express purpose of these four women washing Karen’s feet with their tears.
Robyn eventually speaks up in a tone that is serene enough to placate Karen out of her screaming fit, and asks her point-blank if her move to Great Falls was in any way caused by the tax issues. Karen says no. Gizelle asks if what they read in the Post was true. Karen says yes, but the tax problems are Ray’s businesses. The girls remind her that Ray owes personal tax as well, and they would have assumed that impacts Karen, since married couples typically file together. Karen again explains that she and Ray never shared finances (which would explain why they filed separate tax returns, but not why Karen dipped into Ray’s wallet for literally every square of toilet paper she bought).
Meanwhile, the waiter is like, damn, I have no idea what’s going on but I suddenly realize why my girlfriend loves this shit so much:
Karen – unbelievably – reminds the girls that married people can “remain financially independent.” Which yes! Is totally true! But the operative word there is “independent.” Independent meaning: you can survive financially by yourself. Or, you are not paying for your wife’s entire livelihood, making her a dependent of yours. Neither of these statements are true of either Karen or Ray, respectively. And as a disclaimer, it is very okay to be a kept woman. If I met a millionaire who I knew was making legitimate money and paying his fair share of taxes and was willing to pay all my bills, fuck integrity, I’d marry the bitch TOMORROW.
But I’d also be straight about it. The minute he got into hot water with the IRS or bill collectors I wouldn’t delude myself into thinking I’d be OK because all the money I spend is magical rainbow Katelyn dollars that I grow on a talking tree in my backyard. But Karen insists that she has her own money. That that pretty little hot rod she’s zipping around in came from her very deep pockets. “Karen don’t work!” Gizelle yells in her confessional. No, she don’t!
But her false sense of security also allows her to say, with absolutely phony sentiment, that of course she’d never divorce Ray at a time like this. His tax burden won’t touch her, because she doesn’t touch his money, just like a teenage boy doesn’t touch himself during Carl’s Jr. commercials.
When the ladies ask why Ray never let Karen know what was going on, she said he did, sorta kinda, when they first got married and he acquired a company with pre-existing tax debt, and then never mentioned it again, but that’s OK, because again, Karen believes in separate bank accounts and financial independence and that’s no one’s business.
Again, correct Karen! But it’s a little hard to swallow your “I’m every woman” pill when you spent the last two years making a fool of yourself on camera, talking about how your husband takes care of you and treating his credit cards like Lisa Vanderpump treats random Pomeranians that she plucks from West Hollywood dumpsters. Conveniently, Karen avoids telling us all where she finds all that not-Ray’s Monopoly Money because she can’t discuss ongoing legal issues.
She tries to button up the conversation before Ashley gets in One Last Question: “Are you going to be indicted?”
Karen lets out this awful, high-pitched witch cackle and says, “No, did Michael get indicted for swinging his dingaling all over Instagram?”
OK, first of all, for context, this probably points to a rumor that I had to Google because I don’t think anyone in the world outside of the seven people who care – including Karen – heard about it.
Apparently some dude came forward alleging that he and Michael exchanged very illicit texts, which included a picture of Michael’s penis (which I assume is just a tiny version of Michael himself, with a weird, drunken smiling face and a silly little pirate hat on the tip). My verdict is: a) duh, Michael’s gay, who gives a shit that the sky is blue? also he’d totally be the kind of person to make up a word like “fameolous,” b) Ashley’s question was totally fair given these circumstances, and c):
“Was that in the Washington Post?!” Ashley retorts, as furiously as she deserves to be by Karen’s totally shitty, disrespectful dig.
Then Karen and Ashley unhinge their jaws, hollering over each other and breathing fire and throwing boulders at each other’s cars as they scream to get their fingers out of each other’s faces. Everyone has completely lost it – Monique tittering uncontrollably into her champagne, Robyn wondering out loud, “who says dingaling?”, and the waiter completely gone at this point, uproariously laughing as he stares at the ceiling, thanking the god he doesn’t believe in for scheduling him on this shift.
Finally, Karen ends it all with some more masturbatory make-believe publicist jargon and says “no further comment on this topic.” OK thanks I’ll let my editor at my fake Wall Street Journal job know, idiot. All the ladies talk to one another about how easy it is to a) file jointly with your husband and b) know where the money you and your husband make together goes. Karen keeps snapping her lips together saying “no further comment,” and “mind your business,” (again, at this stupid summit she organized to tell the ladies her business) until Matt tries to politely interject. “EXCUSE ME,” Karen says, throwing a hand in his face.
Matt shuts up immediately as the girls point out that Karen’s just being blindly defensive at this point, that they just want to know the facts about her situation before it comes out in the paper, making them look like ignorant, unsupportive “friends.” Karen’s rabies has fully kicked in at this point though, and she stands up from her chair, towering over the other women, foaming at the mouth and snarling about them having a “gang-up mentality.” Robyn shouts that they came to a meeting organized by Karen Huger, ostensibly to talk about Karen Huger, and just want to talk to Karen Huger about Karen Huger. As Matt blinks incredulously, and the waiter most likely live streams all of this on Facebook, she finally sits down to chill.
That’s when Gizelle (probably stupidly) asks a final question: is Ray being indicted?
Finally, we’re left with our flippant little “To Be Continued…” bookend. I hope this means Atticus Finch is about to burst through the doors and put that poor ole’ dog out of its misery, teaching us the beautiful, sad reality of death.
Next week: It’s prrrrretty obvious that Karen doesn’t want to answer that question, as the cameras are seen chasing her out of the restaurant, clinging to her “friend of 12 years and management” Matt, roaring out the word “TRASH” on the streets of DC. Juan blames Robyn for something, and yay, I can’t wait to return to that marital swamp. Michael hates Ashley’s mom or something. Gizelle is making Every Hue happen, I guess. And Robyn nearly makes Monique spill red wine all over her very white house.
Welcome back to Potomac, Trashcrabs. Did you miss it?
(Too bad. You’ve got the crabs now. You may as well get used to them.)
Want more TrashTalk? Follow us on Twitter for updates of recaps as they publish, like us on Facebook for a daily update, watch our TV parody vids on YouTube, or for funny TV pics, heart us on Instagram, and get the occasional gif on Tumblr!