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The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Old Wives And New Tricks. You Need Mo’ Money, Girl? Be A Model. Or Marlo.

By Danthatscool @DanScontras

The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Old Wives And New Tricks. You Need Mo’ Money, Girl? Be A Model. Or Marlo.

You Never Give Me Your Money.

The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Old Wives And New Tricks. You Need Mo’ Money, Girl? Be A Model. Or Marlo.

Cause Money Can’t Buy Me Love.

The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Old Wives And New Tricks. You Need Mo’ Money, Girl? Be A Model. Or Marlo.

She Works Hard For The Money.

The Real Housewives Of Atlanta: Old Wives And New Tricks. You Need Mo’ Money, Girl? Be A Model. Or Marlo.

Lawd, These Bitches Be Whacked.

And what did we learn tonight, boys & girls?

We learned that being one of The Real Housewives of Atlanta requires a lot of time in the makeup chair, a lot of parties and a lot of money.

Especially the money part.

And if you can’t marry into it, get it from your own personal Big Poppa or sue it out of your deadbeat Ex, then you just pray to God and He gives it to you.

That’s right.  Apparently, in Heaven they are set up for electronic fund transfers to the checking account of your choosing.

Seriously.  Or at least that’s how Marlo Hampton tried to explain it.  But let’s start at the beginning.  It’s a long one.  But a good one.

After being publicly spanked in the courtroom by her gym rat Ex Bob Whitfield, who seemed to have Googled himself a law degree in under 6 months, Sheree swings by the Law Offices of Fierce, Fiercer & Parks to let Phaedra know that she is not pleased with the Firm’s legal services up to this point.

After being introduced like Southern Debutantes meeting up for the first time at the Spring Cotillion (…”Miss Parks?  Miss Whitfield is heaahh, and her Daddy won’t be home for hours…”) they blow a few Atlanta air kisses and then get down to bidnezz.

Sheree is not at all happy that Bob was able to file his additional papers right up under Phaedra’s nose, and that after the judge made the surprise announcement all Miss Parks had to come back with was one of her squinty nosed Phaedra Faces.  Granted, they are amazing and seemingly endless…but this is  Sheree’s life we’re talking about, sistah.

Phaedra tries to wiggle around the whole thing a little bit, trying to use her snooty schooling background to assure Sheree that things went very well in court.  Sheree ain’t liking it.  And she ain’t buying it.

They also politely bickered back and forth about whether Sheree had even paid a retainer fee, then what time she paid it, what color ink was in the pen…anything to side step the real issue.

After professing how much they both love each other as friends, Phaedra suggests that she not represent Sheree in this matter.  She offers up the retainer check, which appeared to have been sitting in the top desk drawer all along.  (Seriously?  After all your squawking you didn’t even cash it?)

They hug it out without smearing any of Phaedra’s shiny lip gloss and go back to just being Besties.

Side note…Please tell me that someone else noticed the framed photo on Phaedra’s Wall of Phaedra?  ”Super Lawyer!”  For real?  What was that?  A comic book?  Is she a SuperHero on the side?  I wonder if she can fly.

Maybe Kim and Kroy could use some of Phaedra’s super powers to help them with their big move.

Cramming five people into the townhouse is driving Kim bonkers, so they are getting ready to move into their new home after they fine tune some details with Atlanta’s Hot Shot Interior Designer, Kendra.  Kastle Kim is massive, which is a good thing considering that Miss Zolciak plans on loading it up with four storage units full of Big Poppa funded merchandise, her current townhouse full of furniture, way too many individually named wigs and her own big breasts.

In typical Bravo fashion (…anyone remember Jeremiah’s design meltdowns in the middle of Rachel Zoe’s baby nursery?…) Kendra has been given less time than it takes to get to across town to get this entire thing decorated.  While Kim subconsciously mimics stabbing Kendra’s eyes out by clicking her pen over and over, Atlanta’s Hot Shot Designer hyperventilates and assures everyone that it will be fine.  Sleeping is for sissies.

Sleeping is obviously not for new Dads though, as Kroy stands in the background and tries to focus.  Even though his signature faux hawk is peaked to perfection, the rest of his face is beginning to show some signs of the realization that maybe all of this is actually happening, and it’s not just a Falcon’s head injury.  You know in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons when someone had little birds circling around their head after they stepped on a shovel?  That’s Kroy.  Except the birds all have dollar bills in their beaks as they fly away with all his money.

Switching gears for some well needed Culture, Cynthia continued her one woman campaign to finally bring some New York class back to classless Atlanta by hosting an art gallery opening.  I’m pretty certain the gallery was in a Mall, but at least it was a chance to show off some funky artwork and colorful Pixar looking animal sculptures.

It also gave NeNe a chance to enter the room with her own Call of the Wild howl as she worried about knocking over some of the sculptures.  Luckily they were only $4000 and…well, you know…she’s rich now, so she could elephant in a china shop her way through the gallery worry free.  Phaedra, Sheree and Kandi also showed up for their art lesson and free champagne.

If Cynthia failed to bring the class, at least she brought the Marlo.

Wannabe Housewife Marlo Hampton arrived, which according to Cynthia signified the Stamp of Approval from Atlanta High Society.  Now I don’t work for the Postal Service, but I’m pretty sure that Marlo is the kind of stamp that you have to pay more for if you want to lick it.

I’m also thinking that Atlanta’s High Society must shop out of RuPaul’s Drag Race work room, if you know what I mean.  Just saying.

After Marlo’s odd non-answer answer on Kandi Koated Nights that her money all came from God, Kandi really wants to get to the bottom of this fiscal mystery.  When she asks Marlo again what she meant by the whole God thing, the response is just as vague second time around.  She admits to dating some wealthy men, who gave her a monthly allowance, and then shrugs and states that God gives her what she needs to make money, which sent Phaedra into at least four never before seen Phaedra Faces.

Girrrllll….I tell you.  Girlfriend don’t even need to talk to get her point across.  Phaedra was all OhNoSheDin’tJustSayThat the second Marlo put the period on that sentence.

Miss Parks could cut you with a head tilt.

It doesn’t help that Marlo has that irritating fake smile that makes you wonder if she just applied whitening gel and it’s not completely dry yet.  She also says “I axed God for money” too much.

You might want to pick up a copy of Hooked on Phonics with some of that left over Holy spare change.

If Cynthia can’t force culture down their throats, maybe she can force booze.

She and Peter are getting prepped for a photo shoot in his new Bar One.  They are doing a Power Couple spread that will promote both of their new ventures as his bar, and her model training school, are both about ready to open to the public.

While Cynthia is getting her makeup applied by a posse of artists (…does anyone in Atlanta know how to use a mascara brush on their own..?) Peter is fretting over a spot on the white lounge couch.  Turns out that Cynthia forgot about the Post Office being closed for the holiday and her invitations for the Bailey Agency for Fashion Models & Wayward Girls will be late unless Peter stops blotting the couch and helps.

He wants her to figure it out on her own…ie, screw up and learn from your mistakes.  She wants him to call her sister and fix the problem while she sits back and gets her foundation powder to set.  His staff knows how this one will play out, and they all scurry away like cockroaches in the light.

He finally caves and leaves a bleeped out message for her sister Malorie.  She already hates him, so cussing her out on the phone is no big whoop.  Peter likes to push the envelope.  And be a Tool.  Doing them both at the same time is even better.

While Cynthia was worried about losing money, Kim was busy spending it.

It was Moving Day, and half the Atlanta Expressway had to be shut down for the caravan of trucks loaded down with Big Poppa stash.  In a warm & fuzzy montage flashback that would have been better suited for Kim is she was just eliminated off of American Idol, we got to witness all of her wig changes throughout the seasons and all the people who have been at her townhouse over the years.  It was also a great opportunity to see Daddy Zolciak’s killer porno mustache again.  Watch your back, Tom Selleck.

The only thing odder than that mustache was Kandi’s sudden interest in country music.

After pimping out Kim and HairBoy Lawrence on the dance club circuit, Kandi needs to refocus her own career.  Her last album received good reviews, but consumers forgot to buy it so she needs a jumpstart, and Country is the New Black.  If she can work with *NSYNC and design a line of sex toys, then I guess writing about tractor pulls is the next logical step.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love me some Carrie Underwood, but I’m pretty sure Carrie is not rubbing giant rubber ManJunk on her nose.  If she is, I don’t want to know about it.

But more power to Kandi.  Her Studio Boy Producer Lil’ Ronnie just worked with Scotty McReery who couldn’t be anymore opposite end of the thug hip hop spectrum, so he thinks it is a great idea.

She finds Jo Dee Messina on Skype and they make plans to get together in Nashville.  I’m thinking they’ll probably do the diner by the Grand Ole Opry, and not Condom World at the strip mall.  But whatever gets a little Mud on the Tires.

Yes, that is a real song.  Brad Paisley.  Google it.

As Kandi packs her Louboutin spurs for next week’s Nashville Roadtrip, Kim finally gets to see her new home.  Everything about the place screamed money and made me feel so far below the poverty line that I don’t even want to get into it right now.

The only thing I’ll say is that Kroy was afraid Baby KJ’s room would end up being all girly and princess, but it wasn’t.  It was total Ed Hardy/mosh pit/cross & roses Rocker Boy.

Complete with a tiny toilet that had “Potty Like A Rock Star” painted above it like one of Joe Giudice’s tee shirts.  That was classic.

The kid will be doing #1 in style, and I’ll still be poor.  So not fair.

We finished off the night with the opening of Cynthia’s Bailey Agency, but not without a little drama.

Cynthia needs to start doing her own makeup, because a lot of the drama seems to center around her time in the chair.  As she is stressing and crying, her makeup boy is trying to plug leaks that are springing out from every angle like a faulty water balloon.

She manages to pull it together and does the meet & greet at the party.  Kim and Kroy even leave KJ home peeing like Bon Jovi long enough to have a run in with Marlo, who is still trying to explain the whole money thing.

Let’s just say that you don’t want to say “Big Poppa” around Kim.  And you definitely don’t want to say it more than once.

Even calling Kandi a “Big Momma” is probably not in your best interest.

Marlo better hope that God sends some security the next time He puts money in her account.

Next week:  NeNe and Marlo and Nashville.

Y’all come back now.

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