Anyways, back in Vegas. Just kidding! We reconvened in the stripper’s den, zeroing in on a little sour mug in the corner. Marisa was not feeling the siren call of lucite heels and a pulled groin. “To me being sexy is being a strong, successful, independent woman who can take care of herself financially,” she said. “I think that being on a pole does not ’empower’ women.” Point taken, point taken. Yet she may have done well to just admit she felt like a huge dork and done a jello shot and gotten over herself. “The only way I can act sexy at all is, uh, never,” she said as she pouted her way up to the pole. That’s what the jello shot is for! Prescription for Marisa the next time she goes on a ladies trip: Rewatch Beyonce’s halftime show several times in your hotel room. Indulge in a minibar bottle of kahlua. Remind yourself that shaking your hips and acting like a goob with your girlfriends does not equal a betrayal of feminist ideals.
Brandi, whose shredded shirt left me mesmerized, had no such reservations about the pole. When she pretended to feel silly Kyle gave a hearty snort. “You look like a preying mantis imagine how we feel!” she said. “We’re going to look like the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz.” No one calls Camille a Munchkin and gets away with it! After swearing she’d never introduced herself to a pole before Camille gave it her angry I’magonnaeatchaforlunch stare and oozed around it like a sexy, grumpy snail. Meanwhile Kyle hoisted herself like some hippie lumbering up a Redwood. When it was the foreigners turn Brandi was forced to remind Yolanda that she had a bagina not a pee pee. Really, who amongst us was surprised that Lisa, who’d accessorized with an enormous boa belt, was a natural? That woman will be all pin-up boopity boop sexiness until the day she’s laid to rest in her blush pink casket. At the end of the lesson Brandi thew some cash at them and Kyle dove down on the floor to scoop up some singles.
Oh for the love of, Adrienne is getting into the bag business. “My business is launching a shoe and bag line,” she fire-breathed. “Brandi’s is dancing on a pole.” Then she gave a pickled, smug smirk. Wait, maybe she didn’t make herself clear. “I hope Brandi’s having fun in Vegas. I have a business to run.”
Sweetie Kim called Kyle in the limo, and we’ll all just wonder privately about the staging of this call and whether this really was the first time Kyle heard about the nose. Another note of curiosity: Were Kyle’s Chanel embossed nails a shellac and do we think she was paid to advertise the brand? Anyway, back to Kim’s news: “I’m thinking about going in to get my nose done…today. I don’t know if I really want to do it.” Kyle being Kyle couldn’t help but pounce a little on Kim’s blowsy indecision. This wasn’t like going in for a mani, pedi, ya know! So Yolanda translated. “She’s just scared. She’s telling you, she’s not asking you.” Then Kim asked Kyle for something direct and sweet. “Kyle, can you pray for me?” Kyle said yeah, yeah, love you, we’ll say a prayer. When she hung up Brandi posed a reasonable question. “Can she take pain medicine?”
NEXT: Camille can handle it, but don’t ask her to stand for it.