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The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills: Beaver Creek Or Bust! It’s The Snow Bunny Spend His Money Road Trip.

By Danthatscool @DanScontras

The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills: Beaver Creek Or Bust! It’s The Snow Bunny Spend His Money Road Trip.

Just pray for an avalanche, bitch.

The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills: Beaver Creek Or Bust! It’s The Snow Bunny Spend His Money Road Trip.

I know you did NOT just diss the fur.

The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills: Beaver Creek Or Bust! It’s The Snow Bunny Spend His Money Road Trip.

Polar Bears attack when provoked.

I swear if Bravo TV could figure out a way to sneak a few Real Housewives through the back door onto a NASA shuttle when everyone at Ground Control was on lunch break and blast those hens up to the International Space Station, they would.

As to why they haven’t tried it yet, I really don’t know if has something to do with governmental security clearance or the fact that 42 Louis Vuitton bags would cause such a weight drag that the rocket would burn up on re-entry.  Not sure.  Either way, that is pretty much the only place they haven’t tried shipping these women.

Regardless of the franchise, it seems to be a contractual requirement, or part of the formula’s limited think tank production checklist, that at some point you pack up all the crazies in a big UPS box, punch a couple air holes, slap a label on it and transport them out of town where they can be someone else’s problem for awhile.

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills got their own chance to over pack and see the world this week as they shlepped off to the home of the creeky beaver….Beaver Creek, Colorado.  Camille, former wife of the hairy blue X-Man, is being forced to sell her home/castle/movie set as part of the divorce settlement.  Before posting it on Craig’s List and sticking a sign in the front yard, she invited all the girls to snow country so they could talk smack about Kelsey, do some skiing, drink a lot and talk some more smack.

I’m starting to think that maybe she is a little bitter.  Just saying.

Before the trip Kyle gets to move into her ginormous house.  That woman has a lot of stuff, and it was all laid out in the front yard like a Giudice Bankruptcy Yard Sale.  Since my entire living quarters would easily fit inside the new entry way and still leave plenty of room for that plastic tray you put wet boots on, I immediately copped a bad attitude and didn’t pay too much attention.  What I got out of it was basically that Kyle never had the “perfect” place to hang her wedding picture in the previously ginormous house, but now she does.  Can anyone tell me how much room is actually required to hang one overly ornate frame somewhere?  I’m pretty sure that if it doesn’t match most people just paint the walls, they don’t buy bubble wrap and move across town.  Girrrllll….those rich folks be crazy I tell you.  Crazy.

While Kyle was unpacking enough vases and statues to host a traveling museum, Adrienne was in reverse mode and packing up her convoy of bags for the Colorado trip.  Even though she was distracted with the pressing decision of boots vs. shoes, Adrienne still had enough time to get completely bonker-flustered by husband Paul, who was clearly put on Earth to nip, tuck and drive his wife into slamming her glitter stripped head into the wall.  Aside from their personal chef who hates everyone and everything, Paul is my favorite cartoon character.  I am absolutely positive that he lays awake at night while she sleeps (..with one of those pillow eye mask things…you totally know she does…) and comes up with new and twisted ways to drive her insane.

Quit poking me.  You started it.  Nuh ah.  Quit it.  Listen to me when I’m talking to you.  Are you listening?  What did I say?

Since Adrienne doesn’t believe that Paul has the sense to look both ways before walking out into traffic, much less wise up and leave her, she felt the need to give him a list of things to do, say, eat and complete while she was gone.  Dude can totally sleep with his eyes open I bet.  He paid her the same kind of attention you paid your Biology teacher on the last day of school your senior year.  He is my idol.

Lisa had even more drama trying to pack.  She wandered aimlessly around her dressing room/walk-in closet/mansion wing full of clothes while the Help tried to figure out which ski ensemble she needed.  I’m starting to think that in her head Lisa really believes she is Mattel’s UK version of Barbie come to life, because there was more pink and ivory in that room than any doll aisle at Toys ‘R’ Us.  Seriously.  And don’t even get me started on how she kisses her dog.  On the mouth.  Or actually more like his mouth in her mouth.  And he likes it.  I know she is gonna miss Jiggy, but there was way too much chick on sissy dog wearing a onesie action for my taste.  I had to pause and go floss after that one.

They finally ended up with an understated white fur number that I think I remember from the Rockettes Show.  Or maybe it was when Abominable put the star on the tree for Santa and Rudolph.  I forget, but either way it made me want to take a shot of Vodka and go up in the attic to get the Christmas stuff down early.

By the time they all made it to the airport, I was already exhausted.  You can’t tell me the Bravo camera men don’t drink.

Money can’t buy you class or a private jet I guess, because it sure looked like they were flying coach.  And they acted it.  I swear I saw two other passengers looking at the cabin latch and wondering if it would really suck them out if they flipped it into the up position.  One flight attendant was filling her pockets with Beer Nuts and putting on her parachute just in case.

Once the pilot made an emergency landing to get rid of them, they had a 4 hour limo ride to Beaver Creek.  That’s 3 hours and 58 minutes of drinking if you deduct the time it takes to pop the cork.  It was the usual fall out from last week’s dinner party when Lisa’s hubby Ken called Taylor weak for going into therapy.  This whole Taylor’s husband thing just gets stranger each week.  It feels like you went back a day on your DVR and you’re watching the Thursday General Hospital when you’ve already seen the Friday cliffhanger.

Four hours of Kim’s Starbucks chatter and Lisa’s pretentiousness later, they finally get to Beaver Mansion.  It was The Flavor Of Love without the hair gel and vaseline as the women scrambled to pick their own beds.  Camille specifically let them just trample each other for a giggle.  I hated her last season, but her kooky is growing on me.

So after being trapped in a plane and a limo for the entire day, they head to the Westin hotel for dinner.  The Westin?  You go in a limo, then a plane, then another limo all the way to Beaver Town, and you go to the Westin?  There’s no hotel in Beverly Hills with shrimp cocktail and a cheese tray?  I give up.

Taylor has another Thursday General Hospital moment or two…awkward.  You have to feel bad for her, even if she did sign on for this mess.

I guess the goal of this trip is to either chill out and get Camille away from the paparazzi, or have one last get together before selling off the house, or just get the single women nailed…I’m not really sure, because the whole thing goes in circles.  They sniff after waiters like sharks smelling blood in the water and then get all goofy in their PJs the next morning when the Ski Concierge comes for their fittings.  Real Housewives don’t go to the little ski shop.  The concierge comes to them.  Excuse me.

I’ll give the Housewives some props, though.  They were actually better skiers than I expected.  Some of them were almost ready for the Black Diamond Hill Of Doom, even though they dressed like it was the Project Runway finale.  I was surprised that all of them managed to stay upright for the majority of the day.  Or maybe all the face plants just didn’t make the edits.  I hope the blu ray will have some cool bloopers.

If the other Housewives camel riding trip on the other Housewives show is any indication, we are in BeaverLand for the long haul.  Bravo tends to make certain they get their money’s worth when pay for tickets and let the girls out of the city limits.  They milk these things for as much drama as they can find.

I guess it just depends on how many outfits the girls brought, and how long Lisa can go without mouth kissing her dog.  Now that you mention it, she was looking pretty homesick when she spotted some yellow snow.

Off to the Lodge for some cocoa.  Coco Chanel, of course.  Der.

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