Brandi and Joyce throw rose petals at each other in another dinner party gone awry.

By Karen Valby
Updated December 31, 2013 at 03:15 PM EST
Bravo

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

S4 E9
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My best viewing advice is to just fast forward through the opening bit of Carlton subjecting her mother-in-law Gloria to a Hustler shopping spree. Ostensibly they were there to inflict thongs on the forgiving Catholic woman but Carlton would have no screen time if she weren’t modeling bits of spangle and pleather or smirking about her sex life. So inevitably Carlton emerged from a dressing room wearing a rubber American flag bikini and gave Gloria a little lap dance. It couldn’t get worse than this, right? Alas, Carlton popped up again later in the episode giving instructions on how to best build her sex room stage. The nanny was there, giggling at all the innuendo, and I fear we shall all soon be subjected to a choreographed dance of these two women dressed in nurse outfits taking each other’s temperatures.

Yolanda has pimples. I’ve mentioned before this season is a drag, yes? After drenching her chin in a Neti pot of Visine, Yolanda joined her King David on the Nobu balcony. The woman, ever chic, wore ripped jeans and a blue sweater and blue pumps. David wrote her a banal love letter; Yolanda gave him a sexy book of nudie beach photos. He ordered himself some appetizers.

Kingsley is free! Kim got a video of her pup running in a golden field without a pacifier in his mouth. It left her feeling conflicted though. While she was glad to see him behaving like a dog, would he still agree to be dressed in a My Mommy Wuvs Me onesie when he came home? With the dog away, Kim decided it was time for her to play. So she zipped herself into an adorable little racing suit and strapped into the passenger seat of a race car. This triggered memories of her driving herself at the age of 12 to work in her Grandma’s car. Oh Kimmy, can I please ghost write your memoirs?

Back in the rose garden, Lisa wondered if she’d been pulling too tightly on Brandi’s reins. The younger woman seemed peckish of late and Lisa was starting to second guess their bond. Perhaps she should let her whirling dervish of a friend spin free? What better time to plan a rose petal-strewn dinner at SUR—dear God, not another crossover into that den of poreless banality—where Joyce and Brandi could really tear into each other mend fences.

NEXT: Keep your friends close, and your mutual friends closer.

Lisa had enlisted Martin and Mohamed to join the fray, trusting that their friendly histories with Joyce and genial natures would take the snarl out of the occasion. Upon Joyce’s arrival she greeted them warmly, declaring she wouldn’t even be there if it weren’t for them. Brandi did not appreciate such a statement, nor did she care for the woman air-kissing and complimenting everyone’s dress but hers. The problem though with Brandi getting her back up so quickly is that she’s failing to own how awful she’s been to Joyce up to this moment. Listen, Brandi doesn’t strike me as a malicious woman but a careless one. She can’t start a conversation with Joyce by saying “We have a lot of mutual friends, they don’t speak highly of you” and then throw her hands up in mock outrage when Joyce retaliated.

Poor Mohamed kept trying to lighten up the mood, rhapsodizing on Lisa’s many virtues. (Cut to a slit-eyed Yolanda half-smiling through his praise that there is no woman as true and fine in all of LA as fair Lisa.) When Joyce reminded Brandi of her racist—again I’d say the more appropriate term is dumbass—comments in Palm Springs, Mohamed wrote it off as a joke. “Nobody understands why I like to ski when I’m Arab!” he said. Soon enough Brandi was screaming at Joyce that she was stupid. Joyce’s husband, rightly in my mind, told Brandi to knock it off already. The F word started flying out of Brandi’s fire hose while the SUR “waiters” looked on in glee.

All of Brandi’s screaming and Joyce’s accusations were really killing the mood for poor Ken. “At least enjoy the food?” he said weakly at one point. Especially you Joyce. We have to get you up to at least a size 00 before this endless season is over.

Happy New Year faithful readers! Off to Walgreens to buy some Visine.

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The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

Bravo’s guilty-pleasure franchise meets California luxe
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