The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills recap: Stiletto in the Back
Kim goes to a Kings game, not that she'll remember a second of it, and the ladies get a load of new Housewife Brandi
The episode opened with Kim prattling away into the phone, slurring that she was never late like this and she was just 15 minutes away from the airport and she looked a fright with no makeup on and this whole mess reminded her of that one day on the Disney lot. The camera swung between a speeding anonymous town car and a waiting Adrienne sternly stirring her Bloody Mary. Paul was not amused; Johnnie the bodyguard most definitely was.
“Oh my gosh, look who’s here!” sang Kim as she weevil wobbled onto the private plane. She is an SNL character sprung to life: a little bit of Grey Gardens, a bit of Three’s Company‘s Chrissy, and a lot of everyone’s sad but good-natured aunt who drinks too much at family functions. Paul wanted to immediately start her on an IV of water but our gal had excuses for her lateness to make up on the spot. See, the power went out. On the whole block! Luckily she’d already done her hair but suddenly there were no lights (the sun went out too!) so she couldn’t get dressed or do her makeup. She was forced to reach out to neighbor, someone on the other block, a la Celestia. Hi there, I’m in my jammies and don’t yet have my face on and the Maloofs are waiting for me. Would this be a good time to drop by and introduce myself?
It was hard to tell if Kim’s yammering was actually a welcome distraction for Adrienne’s frayed nerves. The Queen was hurting, torn up over whether or not to move her beloved Kings. Kim was there for her, ready to empathize over the painful nature of change. “I don’t like new restaurants, new people, I just like my routine,” she said. Paul spoke for America when he turned to her and demanded “What are you talking about?” Adrienne stared forlornly out the window of the limo, a tear breaking through the crust of her mascara at the sight of a sign begging to keep the Kings in Sacramento. Paul, motioning for Johnnie to stick an Hermes scarf in Kim’s mouth, squeezed his wife’s ankle tenderly. Adrieenne smiled softly at him and resisted the urge to bark at him to stop creasing her pant leg. Does this sun roof open? Kim wants to sing Sacramento a song.
Back in Beverly Hills, Kyle was feverishly trying to pull together her charity event to raise money for kids with cancer. Go get ’em, girl. Her trusted ladysitter Justin—Justin, did you approve this title?—waved off her anxiety about calling rich friends to contribute silent auction prizes. Lisa coughed up a dinner for four at Villa Blanca. One person who will not be bidding on said item is Taylor because a) dinner? and b) she hates Lisa.
In light of Russell’s death and Taylor’s subsequent revelations about their dark relationship, the scene of her visiting with Kyle was especially troubling. Russell had gotten wind of a gossip item about their floundering marriage. Who was the fink source that hissed about her trouble at home? “It says I’m barely eating,” said Taylor, clearly furious but still leading with that breezy smile. Kyle paused, looked at the woman’s pipe cleaner legs, and asked “Are you hungry?” Taylor pretended to be amused. “Everybody in my life is under a confidentiality agreement,” she said in the world’s most depressingly claustrophobic statement. So who is spilling to the press? Kyle would never rat on her. It’s not Camille’s style to gossip. Adrienne wouldn’t stoop so low. And Kim never talks to anybody. (Ouch!) That leaves God Damnderpump.
NEXT: Brandi should have worn a Croc to the partyOn the night of Kyle’s Lollipop Theater Network party, Kyle was a squirrelly mess. I’d laugh at her nerves if I wasn’t this skittish before hosting a dinner party for six. There ended up being a nice turn-out, minus Kim who was tired from mistaking the sound of popcorn popping for gun shots in Sacramento. Lisa wasn’t very impressed by the venue—”some godforsaken place in the back of a mall”—and she’ll most likely have to pay for that line at the Reunion. But the night was a success because Kyle raised $15,000, much of which was probably given on the strength of Mauricio’s speech about spending the first six years of his life in and out of hospitals. I do love this man, and don’t even mind that he helped himself to an eyeful of Lisa’s heaving Vanderbumps.
For much of the party Lisa tried to bully Taylor into leaning on her. “Taylor get your skinny ass over to my house and let’s sort this stuff out,” she said in her private interview. “End of story.” So Taylor can you stop annoying Lisa by starving yourself and falling apart and let her make you a nice coq au vin already. Meanwhile, Brandi limped onto the scene, leaning on little Paul like a walking stick. “Who’s that?” grimaced Lisa. “I don’t know,” said Kyle. “She’s tall.” Allow Brandi to introduce herself: “I was married to the number one douchebag of all time. I’m kidding! No I’m not really.” Part of me thinks I might actually like this girl but then her black leather cut-out bullseye bra scares me.
Taylor introduced herself to Brandi and made nice. Psych! One more glass of champagne and Taylor was on her knees at the throne of Kyle cackling over Brandi’s bum foot. She’s nice! said Paul. Oh you little, little buttercup. She’s friends with Cedric. She’s tall. And she dared pair crutches with a heel. The ladies are going to eat her for dinner (except for Taylor, who’s not hungry, thank you very much for your concern, Lisa). Then the party kind of went off the rails. In one corner women were unattractively dissecting Brandi. In another, Lisa’s friend Martin was rather gloriously making fun of Cedric to Brandi while Lisa looked on approvingly. Over in the shadows Taylor was asking the publicist Elliot Mintz, who looked like an allergic Truman Capote with sprayed-on yellow hair, for advice about the leak to the press. “The best way is to go to the head of the rattlesnake not the tail,” he purred, as the camera cut to Lisa. “Listen to the tone of their voice when they say ‘I knew nothing about Watergate, I did not have sexual relations with that intern.” He took a knowing sip of champagne and Taylor pretended she had the foggiest idea of what he was talking about.
After last year’s PR disaster, Camille has shrewdly decided to keep her presence to a benign minimum this season. That means her sole action all episode involved a trip to the wet suit store. “Don’t you think the pink is too…?” she asked her friend Dedra. “Yeah, I think the pink is too.” Fingers crossed they have a book club scene this season. Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom: Too too. Totally too.
Next week: Brandi says what you’ve all been thinking at home. “I get that feeling that you think I’m a super slut.
Well folks? Do you think Lisa has been whispering behind Taylor’s back? Does Brandi’s questionable allegiance with Cedric justify the ladies’ cattiness at the party? Does one need to wear crutches with a boot? Do you too wish Faye Resnick was on this show more often? What’s a Brazilian blowout and what makes it dangerous? What’s a quake hole for that matter?
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