A table came this close to getting tossed at Camille's dinner party, thanks to buckets of martinis and an acid-tongued medium.

By Karen Valby
December 17, 2010 at 03:25 PM EST
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Camille is a generous soul who doesn’t like to hold a grudge. Or rather, she is so convinced of her righteous triumph over an evil Kyle at their last New York dinner gathering, that she wants another shot at the high road. So she arranged a dinner party for all the Housewives with promises of fresh pizza. Sold! Every now and then Nice Camille comes out, and she was actually rather sweet on the phone inviting Kyle. Sure, she could bring her friend. No problem. Girls’ night, hooray! But as soon as Camille mentioned to Taylor the importance of her medium friend not hitting the sauce too hard, I knew we were in for the most delicious kind of trouble.

Kyle assured her good friend Faye—yes that Faye, perhaps like Camille you never forget a face?—that Camille actually could be kind of likable and maybe their New York brouhaha was just a fluke. Cut to Camille subtly trashing Kyle while clinking glasses with her buddies—”one was her best friend and one was her sidekick, I mean psychic,” deadpanned Lisa.

The evening started off with everyone on their best behavior. But then the voices in Allison Dubois’ head started telling her to drink more and she has to honor her gift. And Camille really can only stay pleasant for so long before the wide-eyed cruel in her slinks up to the surface. “Who is Faye? I don’t know who Faye is?” she said meanly, knowing full well who the woman was sitting at the end of her table. Kyle explained that Faye was like a sister to her, as Kim’s face drooped sadly. “Oh that’s nice,” murmured Camille with devastating insincerity. “You know how I know her? I saw her naked in Playboy.” Kyle’s eyes narrowed. You want to go, bitch? Let’s go. Points to Kim for her daffy defusing of the subject: “They want Kyle and I to do it as sisters,” she said. Oh honey, they don’t.

Around this time Allison Dubois pulled out an electronic cigarette—”Jack Nicholson from the Shining!” said Kyle—and started looking for a fight. She wanted to talk about her magnificent ability to head-tap people. “If somebody’s husband’s cheating on them she’ll know!” said Camille. Hear that, Kelsey? You got away with nothing. Nothing! The Housewives figured this was as good an opportunity as any to get their fortunes told. Noble Allison tried to resist, she really did. She’d asked all of the women’s ghosts to wait in the foyer throughout the dinner party. But the martinis were so strong, and the visions so powerful, that she couldn’t help herself. “Your husband will never emotionally fulfill you, so know that,” she happily announced to Kyle, apropos of nothing. “As soon as your kids are grown up you’ll have nothing in common.” Girls’ night! Then Allison said Kyle had a hard time getting along with women and Camille didn’t like someone intruding on her turf. “That’s me! That’s me!” she insisted, as if preferring men’s company to women’s is something to brag about in the first place.

NEXT: Allison Dubois really should’ve switched to water.

Kyle made the mistake of wondering if Camille’s preference for men is what led to their New York fracas. Faye accused Allison of ambushing Kyle. Kim started singing show tunes to herself, unable to deal with the escalating tension. Adrienne stayed mum, taking refuge in her happy place of Paul’s shattered nose and the knowledge that her young son will carry on the Maloof tradition of devastating roundhouse kicks. Taylor went Oklahoma on Kim’s ass when she insinuated that the whole mess really was Taylor’s doing. As Kyle and Camille traded blows, with Allison periodically stepping in to slag Richards in her drunken Minnesota twang, Taylor and Kim bickered like sixth graders. “I can’t stop you because you’re off your f^#&ing rocker!” said Taylor. “Oh really?” said Kim. “Well that’s what I think about you.” Touche!

Taylor cried Enough! Enough! Enough! She barked at Kyle to get up, and insisted that they were not behaving like ladies. Allison gave everyone the double fingers. Camille laced her fingers together, with that patented ridiculous look of weary resignation on her face, as if she’d been forced to endure yet another round of disgraceful behavior with people who were mountains beneath her. Kim warbled her thanks for a lovely evening and then stumbled into a plant.

After such a disastrous evening, Camille announced that she really has had it with Kyle. Fool her once, um, fool her another time. Fool’s gold, you know? And really, it’s not that she’s accusing Mauricio of cheating on her, but she’s totally accusing Mauricio of cheating on her. And she hates suggesting that this is all about Kyle’s jealousy issues, but she really, really loves declaring women jealous of her. And she quite admired Faye Resnick’s spread in Playboy, except for the fact that the woman is morally bankrupt and has no class and what’s with the bad extensions and fake lips? And she doesn’t have any problem with Kyle in the first place—that’s Kyle’s preoccupation with her talking—but she does have a problem with Kyle calling her a delusional bitch in New York. And it’s not that she hates women in general, she just prefers men is all, and she thinks women are catty, and, fine, maybe she does hate women just a little.

Outside the women gathered like hens—Kyle demanded answers from Kim about why she had started in on Taylor. Taylor moaned to the shrubbery about the injustice of it all. Lisa wondered if it was worth going back to the house to check one more time if the medium might head-tap her after all. Then Allison Dubois used her mind-meld powers to turn on the sprinklers on the lot of them which sent them scattering into the various stretch limos. Kyle banished a confused Kim to a solo ride home, while the other ladies headed out for a night-cap at the Polo Lounge. Now, I do not believe our resident psychic’s claims that Kyle was that mean girl in high school who drove the more vulnerable around her to suicide, but I did want all sharp objects removed from the back seat of Kim’s limo as she pressed redial again and again.

Allison Dubois, who never goes by just Allison, finished off the evening with a weird Tourettes-style rant of cruel, cliche-laden vulgarity. Those bitch women have another thing coming if they think Allison Dubois is ever going to lend her sixth sense should any of their kids have the misfortune of being abducted. Ha ha ha, she cackled, stirring her 17th drink with that ridiculous cigarette. A pox upon their children! Double middle fingers to the lot of them! She’ll shove her cigarette up Kyle’s butt—oh wait, she’d need 100 of them to make them stick. Yeah, she went there, as her hand jerked off the air. She knows exactly when and how Kyle is going to die and she loves that about herself. After the cameras stopped rolling Allison Dubois cannon-balled  into the hot tub with her clothes on, stuck her tongue in Deirdre’s mouth, crank called Patricia Arquette, and smashed her fist into a glass window. It’s always the gifted among us who are the most damaged.

What did you all think? Was it a little surprising to learn that the inspiration of Medium is a crazy, mean drunk? Would you kind of like to see this play out on Patricia Arquette’s show? Was Kim’s impersonation of Allison Dubois her finest moment as an actress? Did you want to weep for silly, sad Kim alone in that limo? Was that poor form of Kyle to leave her like that? Did anybody hear Camille call into Watch What Happens last night and apologize to Kyle? Was that sincere or just a shrewd PR move?

Bravo’s guilty-pleasure franchise meets California luxe
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  • 9
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  • 10/14/10
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