Last night’s episode of Real Housewives Of Orange County was oddly medicinal. Is Bravo opening a medical trauma center? The last thing we need on this show are MORE health dramas. Leave people’s bodies alone, Bravo! I don’t want to see any journeys that involve doctors, unless of course one of these broads is married to a doctor and he’s doing wonky and weird and very money making doctoring.
That sounds gross and extremely serial killer, but just watch Botched and you’ll get the gist. When people weren’t ill last night, they were moving, or preparing to move, or crying over their spiritual wellness while holding a dumbbell. It was issues galore on RHOC!
So things begin with Vicki Guvnalson in OK to move Briana back to OC. They pile the car with Briana’s kids for a 19 hour drive, and leave Ryan to tie up all the loose ends of their windswept McMansion on the Prairie life there.
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Briana is having major health issues, and dare I say it before Meghan King Edmonds asks, she has real medical records. (Obviously I believe Briana is for-real sick and not on a quest for casseroles with extra cheesiness, although I’m sure they wouldn’t hurt.).
Ways To Vicki’s Heart: Affirmations, Blind Devotion, Chicken Divan with crispy fried onions.
Briana had surgery very shortly before the trip, so her leg is swollen, yet she is still driving. I assume she wanted to because she would rather Vicki be the one who helps the kids poop on the side of the road? 21 hours in a car with Vicki could drive anyone to ruin. I mean, my kids love me dearly but after 21 minutes of being forced to listen to me belting out Celine Dion and they too are trying to stab me with paper towel rolls!
When the Vicki G bus finally reaches OC, Briana immediately goes to the hospital leaving Vicki on full-time NaNa duty. Which was cute. Briana is released with a pic in her arm (just so you know it was not installed by Terry in the middle of the night), but she’s feeling worse than ever. In response, Vicki is all, “Gotta go to work! work! work! Mama bought you a house! Oh and Kelly brought bunny cookies. Wanna go to her party if you don’t keel over tonight? WOOHOO the pain away!” Vicki is like some sort of faith healer, prescribing the elixir of delusion and WOOHOOs cure.
Briana is frustrated that when she finally needs her mom, Vicki’s priorities are once again, not on Briana. Briana, honey, I feel your pain, but it might be time for you to stop having so many expectations of your mom and get in some counseling. Also, can we talk about the irony of Vicki in another health journey this season. Well, at least Briana’s is believable. And she’s using MEDICINE, not juice cleanses to get well! #JesusJuiceSavesSouls
I do think Briana needs to probably get a nanny – for Vicki.
Shannon Beador is also moving, but she’s moving to escape bad juju, not to live in one of its many unused guest bedrooms.
I should tell you all that I am the international buyer who left Shannon’s crystal breeding emporium in escrow for all eternity. Speaking of crystals, if they are supposed to absorb all the negative energy, but then you trap crystals in your walls, wouldn’t it stand to reason that the crystal-cachement just re-feeds that negative energy right back into your house? And then your husband has an affair and you start mainlining vodka, and one day you wake up with Feng Shui lemons stuffed down your bra and wrapped in a conch shell necklace your husband may have bought when he took his ‘lady friend’ to the beach, and your daughter has on clown makeup and your friends are texting you videos from the previous night when you were knocking balls around in a “Beast” tank top then harassing women at football games for Team Spoiled Children. Life, meet rock bottom – I hope there are hexagonal ice cubes there. Although they do have an awful lot of sharp edges for which to fall on.
Anyway, Shannon is moving away from her house’s 13,000 square feet of bad everything, but unlike Heather Dubrow she is downsizing, and this time she’s putting burning sage – a colonic for one’s kitchen – in the walls, not crystals. So ha!
Heather is upsizing? No, Heather is selecting grills that one could use to safely turn a dead body into BBQ (#FriedGreenTomatoes). Or rather one’s personal chef could ALLEGEDLY use it for that.
Heather also mysteriously needs an outdoor pizza oven, even though she doesn’t eat pizza. Now I just don’t trust people who don’t eat pizza. That is soulless and un-human. You just take yourself to the mental hospital and get correcting, Heather, because pizza is a superfood.
Heather clarifies that she does eat pizza once a year, so by her logic the only pizza worth eating is a $7,000 pizza. I’m sure she substitutes the oregano for shredded $100 bills. Truly, in Heather’s secret heart, the one I think ever-so-quietly beats in her chest, she secretly dreams she’s Gwyneth Paltrow.
The real question, though: Is Heather ever going to actually move in to this house, or are all these ‘must-haves’ her way of exacting revenge on Terry for making her spend 2 years, 4 months, 13 days, 9 hours, and 21 minutes building said house? Like Heather will just think of another thing and another thing and another thing she needs before they cross the threshold – a solid gold toilet which turns human pee into champagne! A disco ball in the garage! A mirror that doubles as a portal to another universe! An oven that makes magical shrinking cupcakes and hosts secret un-birthday day tea parties! A built-in dry cleaner. Is Heather’s mansion gonna be on the Pokemon Go Challenge? #DestinationDubrow #FreePizzaIfYouActuallyUseTheOven #LeechesForLunch
Additionally, I’m really not sure about this hexagonal ice. Honestly – how gauche. It’s all about triangular ice now! Frankly I’m surprised Heather didn’t get ice shaped like her own face. Or Terry’s. But what do I know, I’m still filling ice cube trays at the sink and carrying them to the freezer because I live in a 100-year-old renovation hell with NO WATERLINE IN MY PANTRY YET. Everyone please contact my husband and yell at him because I need an ice maker. And a pizza oven. And a new house.
Tamra Judge apparently found Jesus at the gym? Actually I’m confused – her fitness competition coach, Mia, is a bible study leader/counselor/sadist who pinches Tamra with scary instruments and then calculates the percentage of good vs. evil found lurking in her loose skin. This is all too bizarre, but Tamra has decided to leave all of Ryan and Sarah’s issues, and her custody drama, and Vicki problems up to Mia, Savior On The Stair Master. Mia cites some scripture and instructs Tamra to trust in Jesus, then do 12 jumping jacks to sweat out the Satan. Vicki did tell me Satan is confusing, but Mia’s precepts are like part Richard Simmons, part well, I don’t know, Seventh Heaven?
But, if Tamra is gonna take anyone’s advice on Ryan, I think she ought to go with Eddie’s. Just saying…
Meghan is on her IVF journey which entails stabbing herself with needles while Jimmy is off in FL coaching baseball. Meghan is making him video diaries of her journey, which is a riveting watch of her spending 30 minutes in the bathroom squeezing some skin on her stomach and chanting “Baby, baby, baby” while making agonized faces.
Yes, Meghan, you act like a baby. No, Meghan, Jimmy did not watch your video with misty eyes and a tender heart. He was sniffing candles to transport himself to another world. A world with 14 bathrooms, hexagonal ice, and an outdoor pizza oven that makes not pizza, but recreations of your own likeness in Jell-o infused with vodka – and it’s all FAT FREE! (Welcome to your destination, Casa de Dubrow, where your every fantasy is a reality. Unless it’s unsanitary, unsavory, unattractive, or contains dairy.)
Meghan is a walking coma. How’s that for a diagnosis. By the way, I called her doctor and was told she is faking her fear of needles.
Kelly Dodd is feeling icky, so she grabs some modern medicine in the form of cognac and prepares to meet the girls for a drink. Unfortunately, moments before her departure, Meghan, Kelly’s “security blanket” is having a journey-related side effect and must remain phlegmatically at home in a her natty bathrobe Instagramming for a cure. After Kelly’s TMI over-disclosure at Meghan’s demo party, she’s nervous about facing the girls alone. Probably fearing that she demolished her relationships with them alongside Meghan’s wall.
Still, Kelly goes, learns Heather is also sick (so they rub elbows cutely), and that Tamra and Shannon are leery of her. They demand she confess to Heather about having lunch with Vicki, then they all lecture her about how untrustworthy Vicki is. Kelly is impassive because she believes Vicktim is hurt-ting because she loved too hard. Now she’s heal-ling (and yes, she has a medical record). Also, Kelly sees a lot of herself in Vicki, which is not a thing I’d be admitting out-loud to my mirror, let alone to a viewing audience of several millions, but mmmkay.
After Kelly infuriates the ladies by confessing her love for Vicki, she interrupts Heather’s spiel about her new book to invite them all to a “casual beach party” at her house. Kelly lives in parking lot near a beach. Phase one of the party will be on the beach, and include beach games – like volleyball.
Shannon took the invitation literally and showed up to play volleyball, but she only succeeded in ‘accidentally’ knocking David in the head. OOPs – watch out for Shannon’s wild hands. She had acupuncture on them because she is storing all her AFFAIR ANGER there and wants to free her fingers from HATING DAVID’S GUTS WITH A LETHAL PASSION, but the Feng Shui is all wrong and the lemons were all dicey and her hands grew a mind of their own and whaddyah know they smacked David upside the head. HAHAHA. Also Shannon’s leggings looked like a tampon disaster.
Tamra announces that she’s not playing volleyball, but let’s be honest, she didn’t want to muss her hair for her big show-down with Vicki. Because everyone is clustering awkwardly around waiting until Vicki shows up. That really didn’t improve things. No one, including Meghan, was sure if she’d come, and then Vicki gets right to the business of flirting with Kelly’s brother because he appears to be the type of man who wants martyr/sugar mama and Vicki’s empty tank knows just how to pick ’em!
Then Vicki finds herself indulging Tamra in a little chat about you know what. I am just so tired of this stupid Brooks topic. No, Vicki is not gonna admit that she figured out, at some point, that skeevy Brooks was faking cancer, and no she’s not gonna behave like a real-live human person would and FEEL BADLY for turning on all their friends and defending the scam artist.
Instead, Vicktim accuses the ladies of trying to set Brooks up (cause we’re back here again! Brooks is Vicki, what The Affair is to Shannon, ergo they both pretend to be over it, but it’s a band-aid on gushing wound). Tamra reminds Vicki they had a very good reason to NOT LIKE HIM, and he proved them right!
Vicki also accuses Tamra of not being there for her when she was dealing with post-Brooksian heartache, the decimating apocalypse of Vicki’s soul. So crushing and devastating she lost 22-lbs and got on Tinder. Tamra had the good graces to be speechless.
This was a very flattering moment for ol’ Tammy Sue of Camp True Renewal. Not only that, she looked lovely. Tamra didn’t follow Vicki down to the valley of shadowy depths. She didn’t “crucify” her. She just calmly pointed out the obvious, and reminded Vicki of the facts. Eventually, Vicki teared up as much as her Botoxed to bulldozed face could allow and admitted Tamra was being a friend in believing she deserved better than Brooks, so Vicki apologized. Not for anything specific, but Vicki intuited that Tamra would read between the lines, and Tamra did. She accepted and said she would forgive. It seemed earnest. Then Tamra gently instructed Vicki to openly talk to Meghan and Shannon.
The major disconnect is that the women believe Vicki intentionally misled them and lied for sympathy, but in reality Vicki just intentionally ignored the obvious, and so in her mind, she didn’t lie. Heather gets Vicki’s perspective, but refuses to buy it. Shannon could, given how perfectly it mirrors her own marriage. Tamra just wants clarity in all aspects of all things. Meghan wants justice and justice equals Vicki shoving her head in the stocks under a “Liar Face” sign while the ladies pelt her with balloons filled with full-fat pudding.
Across the beach, Shannon is wrapped in a blanket to fend off her eternal chill, and is bickering with Kelly about how Vicki is not to be trusted no matter how much Kelly believes Vicki’s desire to be loved lead her astray. Kelly wants to know what Vicki did to Shannon that is so intractably unforgivable. What Vicki did was everything and nothing, and all the un-quantifiable things in between. Shannon has to stay mad, because if she yields even an inch, the whole house of cards will come tumbling down, and she and David are in escrow, so…
TELL US – DID TAMRA GIVE VICKI GOOD ADVICE? DID SHE MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE IN FORGIVING HER?
[Photo Credits: Bravo]
