It’s amazing. I can’t even see the hickey anymore.
I feel like the prettiest Cafeteria Lady in Beverly Hills.
Just make me tighter than that LeAnn Rimes home wrecker.
This weekend I think I’m going to look into purchasing an NBA Basketball Team.
Just a small one for starters. Nothing too showy. Just a little sumthin sumthin to spend my spare change on and keep me busy, because let me just say…it seems to be working for Adrienne Maloof.
I don’t even think that woman knows where…much less what…a Walmart is, because she is clearly not buying generic anything. Though Bravo has never actually shown it on TV, you know that her toilet paper roll dispenser totally spins out $10 bills for your butt.
Seriously. Help yourself when you tidy up, girls.
This week The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills lived up to the life style that we have associated with that city ever since Jed Clampett struck Black Gold by having a Spa Day at Adrienne’s.
Yeah. At Adrienne’s. I know, right?
There’s a complete Spa in her home. Somewhere in the caverns of Casa de Maloof is a full blown esthetician’s wet dream complete with a tanning booth and Star Trek laser beam facials.
Jealous much? Every time I say I would never want to live such an ostentatious life of excess, I get the final warning notice for my cable bill shut off date on the same day I run out of shaving cream. So seeing tonight’s complete Spa, staffed with massage therapists and a nail tech who looked like she interns for Willy Wonka has kind of made me rethink this whole “rather be happy than rich” song I’ve been spewing all these years.
Just once I’d like to have to take an elevator to go to the bathroom.
Adrienne has me so flustered I didn’t even start at the beginning of the story. Let’s regroup.
After the Game Night fiasco at Label Whore (“You like them? They’re expensive Valentino…”) Dana’s home last time, the girls are definitely in need of some relaxation and a claw trim, so Adrienne decides to hook them all up with a Spa Day. But before the big event, for reasons way beyond me, she has asked Lisa to put down Wonder Sissy Dog Giggy long enough to teach her how to cook a chicken. Since she hates cooking, doesn’t know how to cook and has no intention of ever cooking anything ever, I’m not really sure why Adrienne felt the need to eat up our valuable TV time, but she did.
Lisa makes the 2 mile hike directly across the street and over the Wonderland landscaping from her home to Adrienne’s and shows her how Paula Dean would do it. If Paula Dean was British and wore 5 inch stilettos when she gutted a chicken, that is.
Adrienne is lucky to actually find her own kitchen in that hotel of a home, much less know how to actually use it, so the whole thing immediately crumbles into the episode where Lucy and Ethel are frying chicken.
Since the kitchen is obviously based on the HGTV Design Star premise that it has to look amazing first and then possibly be functional, Adrienne has covered every appliance and cabinet in matching woodwork, which is a guarantee that she can’t find anything. Where are the onions? Open a door. Whoops. Wrong refrigerator. Open another door. No, that’s a mop. Open another door. Louboutin shoes. I was looking for those.
And so on.
Since her husband Paul lives to inject her life with Restylane and third grade pranks, I was half expecting one of those Snake-In-A-Can things to jump out of one of the cabinets. That would have been classic.
The only thing that Adrienne could immediately get her hands on, which was disturbing on a whole other level, were plastic surgeon gloves so she didn’t have to touch the chicken. She knew where those were even though she couldn’t find the Morton’s Salt. I didn’t ask.
Moving on we got a quick shot of Taylor, Kyle and Dana doing a little Brandi bashing. After accusing NutWad Kim of doing crystal meth in the bathroom during Game Night, Brandi is not really high on anyone’s upcoming holiday greeting card list right now. And since Dana is so desperate to learn the secret handshake that will get her into the Housewives Inner Circle, she is more than willing to drag Brandi through a little mud.
Taylor, on her second week of normalcy, tries to give Brandi a little back up by explaining that Brandi is afraid her ex-husband and that gold digger LeAnn Rimes are going to come after her kids, so anytime anyone says anything about her children she freaks out at a DEFCON One Level. I still say Brandi’s contract stipulates that her ex and LeAnn get a jab each week. Brandi wasn’t even in the room and they got schooled.
Everything after that was just money, and mo’ money.
Lisa and her appendage Giggy swing by royal gazillionaire Mohamed’s tasteful little shanty to see if it is a good place to hold daughter Pandora’s engagement party.
There is over the top. And then there is Over. The. Top.
Think Bollywood meets Indiana Jones meets that Pussycat Dolls Slum Dog music video. If I can’t have a bathroom elevator, then I want a room that is nothing but pillows. A Pillow Room to entertain my friends and watch Bravo TV. That’s when you know you’ve made it. Or you’ve lost it. Like crazy town lost it.
Mohamed, with his trophy girlfriend clinging to his side, walks Lisa around his place and I’m pretty sure that she and Giggy both had a little nervous pee.
There was even a sliding wall panel that led to a secret room where you could do the nasty and not get caught. Right before they shut the wall I swear I saw that giant ball that almost rolled over Indiana Jones coming down the hallway.
Since Lisa doesn’t do Cheesecake Factory, this place will do just fine for the party.
From there it was off to Adrienne’s for a day of laser treatments and Brandi humiliation. When the girls arrived, they were all greeted by a couple of Beefcakes in tight white outfits. (Lisa would totally hit up the Cheesecake Factory if these dudes were on the waitstaff. They’ve already got the outfits.) Adrienne had gotten all of the girls matching light blue robes and wedgie flip flops. She doesn’t know where the ketchup is, but she knows all their shoe sizes. Go figure.
When they first all changed into their spa gear and trotted single file down the hall holding strawberries and champagne, I couldn’t decide if they reminded me more of Stepford Wives in a locker room or a crazy soccer mom Gospel Choir. Still haven’t decided.
Everything else was either exfoliation, Brandi bashing or Adrienne showing off her wealth. One machine cost $30,000. Thirty. I had a fit when Neiman’s raised the price of my coconut scrub, and these women are getting the top layer buzzed off by a $30,000 machine. That’s just wrong.
Before it got too intense, Kyle and Kim snuck off and found a trampoline in the backyard. While Kyle did a little jump or two and called it a day, Kim flopped all over that thing like a fish that just fell off the line and hit the dock. She flipped and splatted and generally face planted across the trampoline like it was her day job.
That women is cuckoo for cocoa puffs.
Once everyone was back inside, it was Brandi against the World.
Adrienne tried to play Peacemaker and get Kyle to listen to Brandi’s half hearted apology. Kim called Kyle a traitor for even thinking about it. Camille, who doesn’t really have much to do now that Kelsey is outta here, ate a lot and got schoolgirl giddy whenever one of the Beefcakes walked by the buffet table. She’s a pretty observant little thing, I’ll give you that. Nothing gets by her. And she does love her snacks and snarky comebacks. I might join her Fan Club.
Kyle met with Brandi, but didn’t make much progress. You don’t diss my kids, I won’t diss your hot mess sister. Just what you would expect from the two of them.
Brandi cried and Kyle could care less. Lisa made sure that she got in every shot, and Dana did whatever would benefit Dana most. She’s going to get to Camille’s home in Hawaii if it kills her.
Like the final scene in a sad sports movie, we watched Brandi hobble down the hallway and out the door all alone. Again. While all the other Housewives giggled and rolled their eyes at how she is nothing but Trailer Park.
Still on her crutches, I was waiting for Brandi to slip on the marble and give us a real Dynasty cliffhanger. The Beefcakes weren’t even around to get the door for her as she fumbled her way out, down the steps and into her truck with the gun rack and the “I Hate LeAnn” bumper sticker.
To top it off, she only got one flip flop for her good foot.
I’m thinking Brandi will probably pass on the next Spa Day.
