Humor Magazine

The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Girl, It Don’t Mean A Thing If It Don’t Bling. Make Sure Them Jewels Be Dangled.

By Danthatscool @DanScontras

 

“I took my eyes out of my head, put ‘em in my purse and drove my car blind.”

Thank you, NeNe.  That pretty much sums it up.

Luckily I was comfortably planted on the couch for this week’s episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta and didn’t need to pop out my orbs before I went to bed.

But it was a close call.

Between being forced to witness some of the tightest clothing that has ever been seen on cable television (Seriously…where do these women shop?  Hoochie Baby GAP…?) and then being forced against my will to view the seriously pixelated windmill gyrations of the biggest…umm…well…the largest….

…umm…let’s just say that tonight’s special guest star could have poked out his own eyeballs, as well as NeNe’s, and still have been able to tap a waiter on the shoulder for a refresh of Kandi’s diluted cocktail.

I’m going to leave it at that for a bit because I’m getting ahead of myself.

After the Jerseyesque Baby Shower throw down last week between Peter and Apollo, both the Wives and the ManWives needed to let things chill out for a few days.

Hoping to kiss up and get back on her good side and no doubt catch a glance of that fine piece of boyfriend as a bonus, Phaedra packs a baby gift basket to the brim and hauls it over to Kim’snew home.

Since our girl Phaedra doesn’t even breath oxygen without an ulterior motive, she immediately used the visit to bash on Cynthia for showing up late to the shower and not bringing a gift.  It should also be noted that in the same breath she also points out that she has absolutely no idea what one of the gifts in the basket actually is, but everyone gave her the same thing when she was pregnant so she figured that it must be good.

The whole conversation just led me to believe that the basket was full of items with missing receipts that couldn’t be returned…can you say ReGift?

Speaking of Cynthia, she is still trying to get hubby Peter to play nice with her family.

During their Yabba Dabba Doo Bedrock wedding last season, it became clear that Cynthia’s family is not a big fan of Peter as they nearly put a stop to the whole event by not handing over the paperwork before the service.  Peter got wind of this after the fact, and is holding onto one major grudge.

Since driving his last restaurant into the ground and taking a good chunk of Cynthia’s money with it wasn’t stressful enough, Peter has now moved on to his next business venture.  His new club Bar One is set to open soon providing he can get the investors to cough up the rest of the cash and can actually get the walls put up.  Figuring he isn’t already on the edge, Cynthia decides to drop by the site with her sister Malorie to see if they can manage a big group hug.

Not so much.

Peter does his usual “That’s what I’m sayin’…whassup…I’m good…” and then walks away after making it pretty clear that he would smack that girl upside the head if the cameras weren’t rolling.  No love.

But there’s plenty of love for Kandi and her upcoming birthday party.

Gone are the days when you just take your girlfriends to Uno’s for your birthday.  And gone are the days when someone else plans your party, I guess.

Kandi is turning a whopping 35 and needs to plan her own party at a venue that can handle music loud enough to drown out the ticking of her biological clock.  After pouring herself into some pants that must have been stitched with the same steel retaining fibers they use in bridges, Kandi and her horn dog buddies Phaedra and Sheree swing by the rooftop locale to check out the party plans.

It basically gave the three of them time to bond, get all “MmmHmm, honey,” lie about their ages and fog up the windows with all their fierce Cougarness.  You go, girls.  MmmHmm.

Moving on…NeNe is rich.  Did she mention that yet?

I’m fairly certain that NeNe’s renegotiated Bravo TV contract now requires weekly verification of her monetary awesomeness, because when Girlfriend ain’t talkin’ about money, she is spending money.

This week she is shoe shopping with Kandi and Derek J, Kim’s fierce stiletto wearing HairBoy.

Derek J is not to be confused with Lawrence, Sheree’s fierce stiletto wearing HairBoy.

Or Derek Jeter the baseball player.

The whole thing was just a chance to drop some designer names, do some Kim bashing and get all fierce.

There was a lot of fierce this week.  A lot.

MmmHmm.

While her fierce stiletto wearing HairBoy was talking smack behind her back, Kim was learning how to diaper a baby boy.  Or at least watch Kroy learn how to do it.  For all her many years of being around Boy parts, Kim didn’t seem very comfortable with the process all of the sudden.

Maybe it’s because this time around the Boy part wasn’t going to come with a black Amex card attached, or maybe it was because as soon as this kid is born she will have a drink and a cigarette in her hands and won’t be able to fumble with the velcro tabs…but either way she was out of her element.

And you know you have too much money when you can pay to have Queen Latifah come to your house with a plastic baby doll to demonstrate proper diapering techniques.

I swear that was her.  Check it on reruns.  I thought maybe she would break into a little jazz number after the practice session, but no go.

Kim and her man also got a quick lesson on the Art of circumcision, which made Kroy’s signature faux hawk stand up without the assist of any John Frieda pomade.  But he got to high-five Queen Latifah after successfully completing a fake butt wipe.

So to quote Peter…it was all good.

Not so good at the construction site for Chateau Sheree, though.

The work on Sheree’s Uber Mansion seems to have ground to a halt, and she brought Phaedra along to put the Lawyer Scare on the contractor.  It didn’t seem to speed up the process any, but it gave Phaedra a chance to show off her Donkey Badonkadonk Bootay to a captive audience.

I swear you can see that thing from Space.  Good thing Construction Dude Andrew was sporting his protective eyewear when she backed that thing up.

Ms. Parks does love to show off that junk in the trunk.  You have to be this tall to ride the ride.

MmmHmm.

Things weren’t quite as well put together over at The Bailey Agency, though.

For some reason that I couldn’t quite get a handle on, Cynthia felt that it required three people to build an IKEA office chair and put out the call to Malorie and her exceptionally tall husband Chris to come to her rescue.  Cynthia had just finished up a photo shoot, and was apparently so obsessed with putting together this chair that she didn’t even pause to take off her crazy fake eye lashes and was fumbling with the ratchet wrench looking like a creepy combination of Betty Boop and Carol Burnett when she dressed up like that looney 1920′s silent movie star.

Cynthia is hoping to open up her School for Wayward Model Wannabes asap, so maybe that is why she needed three people.  I don’t know.  But they showed up.

Malorie was still grinding her teeth over the last conversation with Peter and picked up right where they left off last time.  She and Cynthia went a few more rounds but didn’t really solve anything.  Like a State Union job filling potholes, the three of them stood around and bickered until time was up and the job never even got done.

Peter won’t be getting a holiday card from that family anytime soon.

Putting aside all the drama, it was finally time to squeeze into our party outfits and celebrate a birthday!

After getting a heavy coating of Toddlers & Tiaras face primer and lip shine, Kandi poured herself into yet another inconceivably skin tight ensemble and baby stepped her way down to the party.

All the girls were there, except for Kim who was either dilating or washing her wigs.  I forget what they said.

NeNe arrived as though she was having her own private movie premiere in her head.

Phaedra arrived with a taser in her purse just in case the crowd got rowdy.

Sheree arrived still hating NeNe.  And apparently running a little late since she didn’t have time to iron her top.  For realz.  Check it out when you go back to verify Queen Latifah.  She must have swung by the Mall on her way…the top looked like she unfolded it in the car on the way over.  Meow.

It was nothing but tight clothes, dramatic entrances and boys in stilettos.  Remind me to never invest in a mens Florsheim store in Atlanta.

Or any store selling anything over a size 2.  Does anyone in Atlanta even know their actual God given dress size?

Luckily, Momma Joyce was there to help daughter Kandi celebrate.  I love me some Momma Joyce.  And I’m sure that Momma Joyce would love me.

But the two things that Momma Joyce don’t love are multiple Baby Daddies and Strippers, and unfortunately one of the two always manages to find Kandi whenever she leaves the house, and tonight was no exception.

Phaedra decided against the gift card option, and instead unleashed a stripper on Kandi as a present.

And not just any stripper.  Oh, hell no.

For your 3D viewing pleasure, I give you Redickulous.

Yeah.  That Redickulous.

The one that Phaedra has been ovulating over for two seasons.

Let’s just say that you don’t ever want to run with scissors.  Or with Redickulous.  It’s all good fun until someone loses an eye.

And even better?  He’s her client.  Do the math…that means that Phaedra represents not just felons (ie…her husband…) but strippers as well.

Oh.  And Bobby Brown.

Let’s just say that Momma Joyce was not a big fan.  After getting herself all decked out for the evening, and getting her hair did like a character from Fat Albert & The Cosby Kids, the LAST thing Momma Joyce needed to see was a stripper.

She went off like Foghorn Leghorn in a dress.

“I say, I say, I say…that is just bulls***!  That is just nasty!  I do declare!”

I love me some Momma Joyce.  She needs her own show.  Immediately.

NeNe and Cynthia stormed out like they suddenly grew some Class.  Sheree kept on hating.  The boys kept on walking in stilettos.

And hopefully Kandi rinsed out her glass after that Redickulous swizzle stick incident.

I do declare.


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