Our Housewives have made it onto the ferry to Mo’orea, where they gallantly decided to reward themselves with some booze! It’s literally been minutes since they last imbibed—at the bar while waiting for this very ferry, if you were wondering—so Vicki Gunvalson rectifies that with a bottle of champers. What, no methode champenoise?? Anyway, the attention’s been off Vicki for a bit, so she reminds everyone she’s the queen bee by gagging like she’s swallowed an actual bee in an over-the-top manner. She then declares she’s seasick and scurries off to the bathroom where she feigns vomiting for the camera crew and comes back out to presumably drink more. Off to a smashing start, Vicki.
Upon arrival in Mo’orea, the women declare this tropical oasis “gorgeous and luscious.” I’ll agree that it is gorgeous and I do see six lushes, so they are correct. Pulling up to their hotel, they’re promptly lei’d and given MORE ALCOHOL before the locals treat them to a little dance. Thank god, because Heather Dubrow “loves a fabulous greeting.” Perhaps she can hire similar dancers to greet guests in her forthcoming porte-cochere! Tamra Judge watches keenly, and we realize why after a second. “That guy’s balls and wiener are flopping in the wind,” she says before a close up by Bravo confirms this. But Tamra likes it, so it’s okay.
They clamber aboard a golf cart to squire them to their cabanas and ooh and ahh in unison along the way. Tamra can’t get over how beautiful the ocean is and thinks everyone should get naked. “Right now, bitch. Take it off,” she shouts to Heather and Vicki. Alas, no one else is as game to drop trou as Tamra is, but that’s not going to stop her from repeating her request. Hey, Grandma Tamra; what happened to toning it down now that you’ve got a grandbaby? Cocktails glued to their hands, they peruse their over-ocean bungalows, gushing over how insane they are, particularly the section of plexiglass floor which allows you to view the sea life below. Or, as Heather says while the trio crowds atop it, “someone can make an upskirt video of us.” I shudder at the mental image of that, though this is not the most egregious portion of this segment. Tamra nabs that honor by twerking.
Shannon Beador is also settling in, though she’s quite steamed about the welcome plate of goodies, since there’s “fattening stuff on this plate and I’ve got to put on a bathing suit tomorrow.” Congrats, Shannon, for being the very definition of Rich Girl Problems. Tamra has not stopped yelling about people getting naked and, despite no one joining her, puts her money where her mouth is, rushes out in only a thong, and jumps into the water. Someone’s eager to show off her new chest, methinks. Meghan Edmonds joins her, though she’s put on a swimsuit. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Shannon’s put on a nebulizer and tells us about a cough she has every single day of her life, so the nebulizer sucks, but is a necessity. So all those thousands of homeopathic remedies yet nothing can clear up your cough, madam?
At dinner later, Tamra has managed to wear clothes. Someone asks if they’ll be able to order individually. Vicki says no, this is a group tasting and everyone will be fine. Out comes the first course, and Vicki doesn’t hesitate to send it right the eff back because it’s not cooked to her temperature preference. Out comes the second course (scallops) which both Vicki and Tamra find icky. Meghan appears to be the voice of reason when she tells us “you’re in a foreign country. You should try everything,” but undermines her own edict milliseconds later after taking a bite of something spicy and having a conniption. Someone get these women McDonalds, lest they starve.
Dinner talk turns to Brooks and the other guys, who are maybe going to all get together. Vicki hopes Brooks will eat something, since she allows him to eat nothing. Brooks and his stage three cancer have been seeing the “health” “coach” we met a few weeks back. Remember? The one who said Brooks should be sitting in a field of grass and eating air or tree bark or some such garbage? Vicki mentions that this week, Brooks will decide whether or not to continue his chemo, which is insane to everyone at the table/anyone who has a rudimentary understanding of how serious stage three cancer is. Shannon and her Eastern philosophy reminds us that “there are many options between chemo and nothing,” though if you can’t cure yourself of a cough, perhaps you shouldn’t be advising anyone else on health matters, Mrs. Beador.
Tamra inquires as to how one eradicates cancer sans chemo. Vicki Gunvalson
M.D. informs us that “you starve the cancer by not giving it anything to feed off.” Vicki’s like Jon Snow: They both know nothing. Everyone goes back to Vicki’s room after dinner so Lizzie from last season (she’s still, y’know, on this trip!) can take a plethora of pregnancy tests to find out if she’s right about what she’s feeling with her body. If not, Vicki’s announced she’s going to force LFLS to essentially funnel a boatload of booze. LFLS dutifully obliges and attempts to get going while Vicki shouts and bangs on the door like the uncouth cad that she is. Thankfully, LFLS has locked the door, so we run no risk of seeing another woman undressed. There’s much squealing as we wait for the results and everyone puts on their grandma spectacles to squint at the sticks. LFLS is not pregnant. Vicki announces that LFLS must commence “whooping it up” tomorrow. Poor LFLS.
NEXT: A fight about motherhood versus stepmotherhood… [pagebreak]
Next morning, Heather FaceTimes Terry to show off her hut and her body, and it looks like Terry’s face gets frozen with his tongue out. Nice. Shannon “had some amino acids” and is feeling better. Better enough to drink! “Vacation Shannon is going to make up for last time, so Vacation Shannon is going to rock,” she says. Recapper Sean thinks it’s super weird and annoying to talk about yourself in the third person. In a bid for relevance, Meggers starts to talk about how she’s not able to see Jim Edmonds’ youngest kids half the time and how bothered this makes her. Drinks arrive, because of course drinks arrive, and Tamra tells Meghan, “You should have a baby. Right now.” Tamra repeats it, as though Meggers is to go find the gentleman with the semi-exposed weenie and mount him. Meghan refrains and says that she already has three babies. “Well, they’re not yours,” corrects Vicki in her condescending tone of disapproval reserved for wait staff that does not understand Spanglish and/or new Housewife cast members. “It’s different when they’re your kids,” Vicki finishes.
Now here comes the real head-scratcher. Meghan proceeds to put up a fight that no one could know how hard it is to be a stepmom because none of them are stepmothers. You’re right, Meggy. None of them know what it’s like to be a stepmom BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL MOTHERS. All of these actual mothers counter that, in fact, Meggers simply doesn’t get it, and around and around we go, with everyone just touting their party lines and fake smiling like stumping politicians until Meghan cries. She wants her own kids, but in the meantime she’s got deep love for her stepkids and wishes she were their mother. “But you’re not,” Tamra hammers. “So have your own child.” The truth, she cuts deep.
Fresh cocktails glued to their hands, the women board a bus to go somewhere and likely drink more. They arrive at a smallish boat where we learn they will be swimming with sharks and stingrays. This terrifies Tamra who thinks a shark “may bite my booby off and then I will again be boobless.” Vicki’s also freaked out because she sees an actual shark. Here, we learn Vicki booked this excursion, though she didn’t understand that when you reserve an activity called “Swimming with sharks and stingrays,” you actually have to swim with sharks and stingrays. Instead, Vicki shrieks at the sharks and stingrays, which I assume is a whole different excursion altogether. What happened to whooping it up, you dingus?
Most of the women have a blast amongst the sharks and stingrays, and Vicki sets new records for hitting unsafe decibel levels with her voice, and then everyone gets back on the boat. Guess what the women do next. If you said, “Drink,” why, you’re absolutely right! It’s time for more cocktails and for Shannon to rub suntan lotion on Tamra’s breasts and stomach and then squeeze Tamra’s chest while the boat operator looks on and smiles. Then Tamra feels Shannon’s chest while everyone woos. Is this what groups of women do when they’re on vacation together? My girlfriend says no. Hungry, they stop off at a pizza place because they lack imagination and don’t want to try anything new or local. Vicki tries to order a “cerveza” because she automatically assumes anywhere with palm trees and an ocean is Mexico.
Later that night, the group separates into two factions. Vicki, Tamra, and Shannon are “team whoop it up,” and Vicki wants to stay at the hotel and “whoop it up more than the other women.” Heather, Meghan and LFLS go out to dinner because “we’re not old people who get tired and are boring.” What a zinger, Meggy. Vicki says “whoop it up” 1.4 million more times and I’m wondering if every time Vicki says that, a fairy somewhere gets drunk. Vicki drives the women to dinner in a golf cart, taking it where she’s not supposed to—into the restaurant—but not really caring because she’s an entitled goober who’s just “whooping it up!” The trio is already half in the bag by the time they sit, but there’s still too much blood in their alcohol stream so they order shots to remedy this. Vicki barks at the server that she wants “Fireballs” which is the wrong name for the liquor, but no matter; the waiter doesn’t understand. So these three eloquently just scream “SHOTS” in his face over and over, sounding like the most annoying remix of LMFAO/Lil Jon ever. He finally smiles and nods to shut these screaming drunks up and comes back with iced vodka with lemon on the side, which is fine by them because it’s booze. Down the shots go, followed by many more rounds.
Well lubricated, it’s now time to crap on women who aren’t present. Namely Meghan. And so Vicki begins the bashing, while the others join in. Across the island at her own dinner, Meghan craps all over Vicki for her tone. Back and forth we go with the cuts and the crapping until Shannon stops and breaks down “Girl Code” for us. It’s apparently not just some MTV show. “Girl code dictates you don’t befriend the third wife when you were friends with the second wife,” Shannon snaps. Heather is violating this sacred tenet by being friends with both Jim Edmonds’ ex and now Meghan. QUELLE HORREUR! So Shannon’s going to side with the ex, no matter what because she was “this-close to it happening to me.” Close to what? To marrying Jim Edmonds? I can see that, as Shannon does have awful taste in men.
Now it’s time for another vodka shot. Atta’ girl, Vicki. Nothing says whooping it up like doing shots with two other 50-something women in a dead quiet resort restaurant. You really are a wild creature. Soused, they now start kissing each other on the lips and slurring about how tight their friendship bonds are. They’re so drunk that when Vicki’s phone rings, they first dance to the generic ringtone, then can’t figure out how to answer it. They do finally manage to pick up and now must shout about how much fun they are having, because everything between these women is a competition, even “having fun.” Heather et al are on their way back, which Tamra takes to mean, “We need to get more drunk before they get here because we’re more fun.” Cue another round of shots. Sheesh.
The groups reunite, a bundle of drunken arms and fake pleasantries. Hammered beyond belief, Vicki and Tamra walk into the nearby pool, clothes and shoes on because they think that’s an appropriate thing to do. Shannon goes to fetch MORE FREAKING SHOTS and wades in enough for Vicki to pull her in. Is this fun to anyone? Once in the pool, the three of them act like small children and Tamra really nails the impression by peeing in the pool and copping to it. And on that disgusting bombshell, it’s time to end.
Do you understand the difference between being a stepmother and being a real mother? Why is LFLS here when she literally adds nothing to the mix? Were you drunk just from watching these women drink?