Cover your vajajays, girls. That was the takeaway from the White Party. And as Kim herself said, there was a first time for everything.
The bulk of the episode dealt with Kim’s nerves about sliding out of an oversized martini glass so she could stomp side by side and sing along with Auto Tune at her first real concert. She wore a black pouf of a dress, size 3T, and worried that her nipples would plop out. Then she worried that the tulle of her skirt would drift upwards in the wind and she’d be exposed. (Not buying this sudden demure streak, Miss Kimberly. You just peed standing up while wishing you had a wiener while barking at your assistant in hooker heels while your rented yellow Lamborghini sat nearby in park and a limo followed closely behind with your bags of wigs and face wash. I’ve seen more Bravo-blurred shots of your boobies than I can count.) I think the only person who had any genuine cause to worry was poor Jose, the assistant whose cheekbones Kim wanted to pour tequila over and suck on like limes.
I’m wondering if Kandi’s private interviews were filmed much later than the actual White Party. She already looked kind of bored with Kim, and put out by her Lady Gaga attitude, not to mention her expectation that Kandi would jump at the chance to sing back-up. But she was pretty tough on Kim in private interviews, rightfully questioning the woman’s chops, dedication, focus, gaydar, you name it. Still, when Kim didn’t fall off the stage, Kandi had nothing but hugs for her. “I cracked the door open and you kicked it in!” she praised. Kim still looked a little in shock, but not before suggesting they take their act on the road. Kandi was like enh, and thank God because that means we could be spared the prospect of future road trip adventures with Kim and Sweetie, who are not the 40 proof version of Lucy and Ethel they imagine themselves to be.
Poor Apollo, someone save him. Phaedra lost any shred of charm this episode, groaning about her man’s belief in quality time and yammering about how her baby was going to be raised. She doesn’t think Apollo gets it because that fool had the bad luck to be raised in one of them white households where people live on a diet of potted meat and sass. “In black households there will be no backtalking,” she announced. At this point I thought she was threatening Apollo for daring to go off her baby registry. But no, she was just feeling a tender surge of anticipatory motherly love. “And if there is, there will be no teeth in your mouth. This child will be getting a whupping.” Apollo dared to suggest there were other ways to communicate, and perhaps a time-out would sometimes be more appropriate, but she wasn’t hearing it. Later, their relationship mentors came by for a terribly awkward session of love language counseling over dinner. They might start looking into new mentees down at the church. Phaedra wants fancy shoes. Apollo wants to save that money for his child. “After session we’re good for a week,” said Phaedra. “We’re going to see after we have the baby,” sighed Apollo.
NEXT: Why, exactly, is Cynthia considered Real Housewife-worthy? Anyone?