The last episode from the girls’ endless trip to Morocco kicked off last night with Jill squalling for Cindy. “Where’s Cindy?! Where’s Cindy?!” she sobbed. Where is Cindy? Oh, there she is, staring slack-jawed at whatever blonde happens to be popping off. I think it’s safe to say that Cindy will have extra time next season to devote to her Completely Bare empire.
Jill was bereft from her tete a tete with Ramona but she swore she would never let anyone treat her like “that” again. Not with LuAnn, former varsity softball team captain, as her heavy. The Countess really let her claws out last night. While Ramona was gasping on Alex’s shoulder, her friends pleading with the nurse to give their friend another shot of Pinot Grigio, LuAnn just smirked at the lot of them. The more Alex and Sonja begged her to leave the room so Ramona could calm down, the slower she twisted the wine opener.
Oh well, everybody hates each other but they’ve got dinner reservations. Trip of a lifetime! Jill wanted a picture of Cindy dancing on a table but LuAnn smacked her hand and reminded everyone that they were not tourists. LuAnn’s best friend, Morocco’s Minster of Tourism, would beg to differ. But anyone who knows Alex knows that she is the type of gal who will dance on the bar at Coyote Ugly so she couldn’t resist an awkward shuffle with the belly dancers.
The next day—good grief, how long was this trip exactly?—Jill sicced herself on a tour guide while Ramona stayed back at the riad to whimper over the injustice of it all. Why wouldn’t Jill listen?! Alex, a real goofball all night, tried to comfort Ramona, rubbing the woman’s limbs and staring at her with soap opera wide eyes. Bravo upped the ante of the scene by filming it extra grainy. This was cinema verite people. Ramona’s mental health was on the line! She was heartbroken and would probably have to take to her bed for the rest of the evening. (Psych! She’s just going to down another bottle and smush her boobs with Sonja in front of the aggrieved designer.) No wonder Alex had to put on her extra leaden heels to clomp down the stairs and confront her friend’s attacker.
“This is henna,” LuAnn was instructing the brunettes. “This is henna!” Well, this is Alex, unhinged and off script. I usually like Alex well enough because her articulateness balances out her ridiculousness. Not so much at the tattoo parlor. Poor thing huffed and puffed in her effort to corral LuAnn and tell the woman to go easier on Ramona. LuAnn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Cindy stopped breathing. Kelly looked at Alex like she was the worst kind of nerd she used to shove in a locker back at her small town high school. Weird!, shouted Kelly. Over and over and over. LuAnn directed Alex to return to her cabinet. Kelly waited until she was off camera to start yelling for Santa Claus. The henna artists looked on with the exact same expression of amused, semi-affectionate revulsion that I’m usually wearing at home in front of the TV.
Alex spun around in a few circles, stomping her foot for someone in this country to listen to her. Kelly reentered the scene and immediately started barking a nonsensical series of orders. “Cover your shoulders. Close your eyes.” But Alex didn’t want to close her eyes. “No!” Kelly barked. “Close your eyes.” Nigh nigh Alex. The poor thing closed her eyes and tried to tell Kelly why she was so upset. If Kelly truly was a sane person this would’ve been an opportune time for her to just walk away so Alex could rant blindly into the desert air. “Open your eyes now!” said Kelly. It’s just that Alex is so angry. Nope, Kelly insists she is not angry. She is sad. Jill popped out with poodle hair and told Kelly to be quiet already and let the hyperventilating woman speak. Jill Zarin, two steps forward.
NEXT: Dinner will be served at 8; gang fights at 9:30.