For the last time, Bethenny Frankel does not want attention. She’s not on this major cable reality show to get noticed. She’s here to hock her low-cal ranch dressing and occasionally sob in affordable furniture stores. Please just don’t give her any attention. They should have signs that read that posted around production, similar to the rules at the zoo.
So we’re back in the damn Berkshires and at Furinda’s murder mystery mansion. Bethenny has flipped out over Heather offering her a meatball and says that she feels like Heather is “inside of me.” Well that’s very graphic. I mean she just like held your hand for five seconds—I’m not sure she was trying to insert herself. Bethenny also managed to throw in several of her accomplishments including the national talk show and being in Forbes. Again, she wants no attention! Stop talking about her accomplishments that she keeps bringing up!
But that wasn’t even the weirdest part of the night. Then, Luann—still dressed like a bootleg Clue character—gets up to give Furinda a toast and talks about how they were instantly attracted to each both “physically and chemically.” WHA? I feel like when Luann isn’t surrounded by her statement necklaces, she gets a lil loopy. It’s like reverse kryptonite. She needs those big stones.
Back in New York, Ramona has a nice moment where she reconnects with Avery who’s home from college on winter break. She has a paper due that evening which totally annoys Ramona who wants to go out to dinner and, likely, check out some “eye candy.”
The Woman Who Wants No Attention then conducted a “brand seminar” on camera with all of her partners in Skinnygirl. Naturally, it was done at the Essex House where she’s living. They do seem to enjoy the attention. Basically, they met at a large conference table surrounded by Skinnygirl products and all talked about their hopes and dreams. Then, Sonja showed up to learn a few pointers from the Woman Who Wants No Attention. One takeaway is that no one is having fun at Skinnygirl. “Are we happy? Are there successes?” Bethenny asks the group. CRICKETS. Then she and Sonja leave for a few minutes only to discover that there is no Skinnygirl sweetener out by the coffee machines!!! Bethenny then telekinetically sets fire to the Essex House banquet hall. JK, she just got kinda mad.
Bethenny isn’t the only business gal in this group: Kristen has got herself a nail polish line at Ricky’s. For people who don’t know, Ricky’s is an East Coast chain where people buy wigs and flat irons and hair pomade. Oh and sometimes Halloween costumes. So for some reason Kristen’s husband was talking to Ricky’s about his energy drink (I don’t offhand recall them selling beverages) and proposed Kristen do a nail line called Pop of Color. She claims to have trademarked that—which I find dubious. Kristen invited Carole to sit in on her meeting with Ricky’s where Ms. Radziwill proceeded to suggest color names like “thrust” and “dangler.” I guess Adam’s still not back from Nicaragua.
Keeping with that theme, Furinda, Ramona, Bethenny, and Carole all have dinner at a steakhouse. Ramona is bummed there aren’t enough dudes to look at. Then, the convo turns to lesbianism. Bethenny says she’d be up for it if she didn’t have to engage in oral sex. Then somehow three-ways come up and of course Radziwill is cool with them, which immediately sends Ramona into a tizzy. She starts shaking her head and squealing like she just saw a spider. Turtle Time apparently does not involve another lady.
Finally, the ladies all gather at Ramona’s new bar AOA for basically a torching of Bethenny Frankel. Nearly every lady picks a fight or has a beef with Bethenny, who surprisingly does not cry. CB2 will bring out the waterworks, but AOA is a safe place. Luann, now back to rocking saloon-wear, once again brings up the Berkshires which pisses Bethenny off. Then, Kristen approaches Bethenny about something she heard from Carole…and blah blah blah. Sigh. Everyone wants to yell at Bethenny. I sorta understand it because she’s pretty unlikable this year, but I also don’t really want to hear people talk about a low-level nail polish line. Holla.