'Real Housewives of Beverly Hills' Recap: YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT MY SISTER
I was hoping that spending a day cooling off from watching Monday night's episode of "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" would mean that once I signed on here, I'd be able to talk about Kyle Richards without flying into an emotional rage. BUT THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, BECAUSE KYLE RICHARDS IS A HORRIBLE BITCH.First, though, let's get some basics out of the way. We open the show with a segment featuring Lisa trying to teach Adrienne how to cook a turkey. We can safely assume that this replaced another segment that featured Russell Armstrong, because why the fuck else would Lisa teach Adrienne how to cook a turkey when Adrienne has a personal chef?
It comes as no surprise, then, that Adrienne is not a star student in the kitchen, which becomes apparent when she tries to wash off the unsuspecting poultry carcass using dish soap. Hoity-toity Lisa scoffs at her incompetence, Adrienne doesn't give a shit that Lisa scoffed at her (because Adrienne has a personal chef), and then finally enough time has passed that we can move on to a scene that was actually supposed to be in the show.
Cut to: Kyle, Taylor and Dana (God I hate you, Dana) hanging out poolside at Taylor's abode. Talk quickly turns to Brandi, and the fact that she has yet to apologize to Kyle for (possibly correctly) suggesting that Kim was on crystal meth at Dana's game night, a comment that escaped her lips after she was the inexplicable target of Kyle and Kim's apeshit crazy rendition of two high school mean girls.
Rather than acknowledge any wrongdoing, though, Kyle sets the stage to continue being the horrible shrew that she is by telling the camera in her harpie-like way that while Brandi might be going through some problems, the short-shorts-wearing former model still needs to remember to "Not. Talk. About my sister."
As we take our leave of those three, we find ourselves at the doorstep of Lisa's friend Muhammed, who wants to host a bridal shower for Pandora at his appallingly large mansion. The mansion is equipped with several Morroccan-themed restaurant style rooms, in case Muhammed ever gets a bee in his bonnet to whip together a belly-dancing party on a whim. Lisa gives Muhammed deserved shit for his party-boy lifestyle, since he is apparently 100 years old with a 25-year-old girlfriend, but agrees to let him host the party.
So giving, that Lisa.
In the next scene, we finally get to the creamy center of the episode: Adrienne's spa day. Like any self-respecting woman who lives west of Doheny, Adrienne has a spa at her house, and as she's giving instructions to her hired manicurists, chefs, facialists, aestheticians, and masseuses, the ladies start arriving one by one for a little gathering in which they will take advantage of Adrienne's home spa equipment. But little do they know, they are in for a showdown!
Why are they in for a showdown? Because Brandi Glanville is out of her goddamn mind, and is quickly making it clear to the viewing audience that being on RHBH is worth more to her than her dignity, her kid's dignity, her sanity, and her sense of self-worth. These other RHBH bitches are bitches to her for no apparent reason, and she just keeps fucking showing up to take it, week after pathetic week.
This week, Brandi hobbles her way in to Adrienne's spa day after Adrienne, in her infinite wisdom, suggested that Brandi give the girls another chance, noting that perhaps Brandi was in the wrong for existing, and thereby incurring the wrath of Kyle and Kim, a suggestion with which Brandi neither agreed nor disagreed.
Anyway, no sooner does Brandi make her broken-legged way across the several miles that span from one end of Adrienne's house to the other, then chatter begins amongst the girls about who owes whom an apology, who is in the wrong, who just doesn't care because they didn't want to be friends anyway, and who may or may not be on crystal meth (hint: it's probably Kim).
In other words, in the middle of this sprawling, multi, mutli, multi-million dollar Beverly Hills home, a group of grown-ass women in their mid-40s regress into harried, Botoxed versions of their middle school selves (at this point, one starts to think that RHBH should actually be a show on NatGeo, but that's a whole different post).
Eventually, Adrienne decides to be the (relative) grown-up and ask Brandi to make nice by talking to Kyle. Kyle reacts by panicking, which is amusing because I hate Kyle, and then agreeing to go talk to Brandi. Awkwardly, Taylor, who is sitting outside with Brandi when Kyle deigns to appear before her, does not leave for the showdown. She and her lips remain firmly planted in a chair, looking alternately concerned and judgmental as the conversation takes its course.
And what a course it is! To her credit, Brandi makes it through the entire conversation without actually apologizing for what she said about Kim. Instead, she notes that things got out of hand, that she said some things she shouldn't have said -- nay, that everyone said some things they shouldn't have said (we'll all recall that Kim and Kyle loudly announced that they don't like Brandi and didn't want her on their team), but that ultimately, no one is ever to speak ill of her children (Kyle notoriously gave Brandi shit for her son peeing on Adrienne's grass, which was probably the funniest thing that has ever happened in the city of Beverly Hills).
Kyle insists that she didn't speak ill of Brandi's children, and that regardless, Brandi was Not. To Say Anything. About her sister.
All well and good, except that one could argue that Brandi's child is somewhat more defenseless than Kyle's leather-faced sister.
This goes on for a few minutes, and in my book, Brandi wins the argument, if only because she refuses to back down even when Taylor and Adrienne jump in to say that maaaybe Brandi shoooouldn't have said that ooooone thing about Kim and crystal meth. The conversation goes nowhere, but it does later become apparent that Kyle knows she was in the wrong -- "we weren't exactly angels that night," she later tells Kim -- and yet, won't apologize. Ever. For anything.
And so, until next week!