Hi everybody. You’re probably reading this and finding yourself a little puzzled and perhaps the slightest bit unsettled that it’s me, J-Mo, and not our beloved Twunty McSlore writing it. Well, let me assure you right up front that I am not attempting to replace her in recapping the hideous exploits of our evil little RHONY Cronies™, I am just here helping out at her request. As you all may or may not know, Real Life™ has recently made some major intrusions into Twunty’s world, and when she asked me if I would tackle a back-episode for her, I instantly thought to myself “WWJD?”…
Who Wants Jill Dead?
You’re right, that’s a little harsh, and in any case I have promised that I wouldn’t use my PMS (Psychic Mindfucker Skillz™) for personal gain. No, seriously, how could I turn down the Twuntress’ request? I’m a total fan and I love her as much as you guys do! So, I hope you’ll be kind and gentle with me, ‘Gasmii, because I’ve been cavorting over in Top Chefland™ for a very long time, and I don’t quite have Miz McSlore’s insight into this world of privilege and wealth and bitchery. Hell, I’ve never even been to New York City! But then again, just like Kelleathery, when have I ever let my complete and utter lack of knowledge on a subject stop me from yammering on and on about it for ten pages? Just think of me as a fat gay hairy male version of the svelte, straight, smooth-skinned Twunty and we’ll all have a really good time together, mkay?
Let’s dive right on into the cesspool! We have a short revisit of the Tarty From Hell™ in which Superhero Alex somehow found the temerity to not only tell the Almighty Jill Zarin to shut her hag-hole (LOVED IT) but she also managed to call her out on being less mature than every single fourth-grader in the nation. Then they toasted to not running in the same social circle any more (HA!) and then Alex excused herself and apologized to the hostess while Jill began fuming and formulating her latest Campaign Of Terror™.
Now that we’ve had a taste of blind rage and people who hide out in other people’s pantries, let’s zoom on over to the relatively tranquil world of Crazy Eyes. She’s just arrived at Skanky Slut Sonja’s place (on what looks like an appropriately cold and rainy day) to pick her up and whisk her away to St. John’s for her “Bachelorette Fun Party”. She’s so super excited! “I planned the most spectacular trip for all of my girlfriends! They are gonna be so surprised!”…
“Especially since I am not gonna be the one going batshit for a change!”
Sonja’s gushing to Ramona about how happy she is to have such a wonderful friend that she’s known for so long (except it took being on the same TV show to bring them back together) and she just knows that Crazy Eyes is going to deliver a first class trip. This sounds kinda sweet, even though Sonja makes sure to slip in a self-pat-on-the-back about how haaaaaaard it was for her to get five whole days off in a row from her busy life of coffee klatsching with her hill-folk psychic, watching the other gals tear each other new assholes, and not cleaning up the dogshit on her own patio. The fact that she’s making this great sacrifice is a testament to how wonderful she thinks Ramona is, and she promises that she is going to be there for her and her alone. “And for the luxury of it! I’m not gonna lie, I love luxury, OK?” she crows…
“Why the face? I’m saying I love you even more when you’re giving me great stuff!”
Isn’t this awesome? They’ve been on the trip for exactly thirty-six seconds and already Sonja’s managed to make Crazy Eyes feel like she’s really only there because there will be top shelf liquor, thousand-thread-count Egyptian linens and unlimited cabana boys being provided. I would bet that some of Ramona’s excitement and joy over doing something extravagant for her friends has been deflated by being made to feel as if people only like her when she’s giving them expensive trips. Way to go, Sonja.
To take her mind off the tacky comment, Ramona brings up the fact that Jill Zarin apparently isn’t coming along on the trip, “I know why she didn’t come, because it’s not about her!” Well, yes, and because she didn’t have control over the guest list to make sure that icky low-level undesirables like Bethenny and Alex couldn’t enjoy in Ramona’s largesse. Wouldn’t you just love to invite someone to your party and have them attempting to dictate your guest list?
Ah, but Crazy Eyes isn’t too bummed about it, because she admits that a part of her is actually happy that Queen Zarin is off having a snit and won’t be coming after all. Plus she mentions that Jill coming would mean underdog/sidekick Cuntess LuLu would inevitably have to be tagging along as well, “I don’t wanna say it, but… they’re the buzzkills!” Wow, when did Ramona become Perceptive Eyes?
Oh, and speaking of the Cuntess, here’s the part we’ve been waiting for all season long. She’s walking into the recording studios at Budget AutoTune Records and telling us all (as a clear setup) that she’s just loved to sing since she was 9 years old, and she would stand in front of her bedroom mirror with a hairbrush holding it like it was a microphone…
and then she grew up and learned she couldn’t sing, so she had to replace the hair brush with older mens’ penises
Well, gosh, wouldn’t you know it, she met a producer named “Chris Young” who offered to produce a song for her because she’s on TV out of the blue. As LuLu sweeps into his office (overly complimenting his amazing view of the buildings across the street) it took me about 3 seconds to deduce that Chris is a giant douchetwat. Here are the Five Warning Signs…
1) Wearing aviator glasses indoors? Check.
2) Terribly silly Mohawk haircut? Check.
3) Cheap Fruit Of The Loom V-Neck worn as regular shirt? Check.
4) SHOULDER PADS AND EPAULETS? Check.
5) Willing to give the Cuntess a platform to annoy everyone for years to come? Check.
Naturally, Crisp Dung here starts shamelessly plugging his studio for the cameras, calling it one of “the most important studios in Manhattan” and claiming that Fitty Cent, Ashanti and Britney Spears have worked there. “Even Bruce Lee’s been here!” he crows. Wait, I’m confused, was Bruce a recording star, too? I bet all he ever did there was take a Kung Fu Poo down the hall. Anyhow, the Cuntess is suitably impressed, but not so much so that she isn’t immediately adding herself to the list of luminaries: “And I get to be here!”
This entire time, Crisp Dung has been kissing her ass at the speed of light, and effusively calling her “Countess” every three seconds (as is dictated in the rider that she foists upon anyone coming into contact with her) when suddenly the Cuntess stops him and says since they’ve been working together “for a while” (a.k.a “six whole minutes”) that he can drop the “Countess” and just call her LuAnn!
HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS! I’m rushing outside right now to see if Jesus is stepping down from the sky for the Second time! Is this the Rapture? Has the sun exploded? The Cuntess granted a total douchebag the privilege and use of her Christian name? OH wait, sorry, this was just a lame set-up for Crisp Dung to say he just CAN’T call her boring-ass LuAnn, “I mean, to me you’re always going to be the Countess, so I don’t care who you’re married to or what the deal is, you are, uh, class and panache as far as I’m concerned!”
“Oh you. Stop it. And by that I mean, tell me some more wonderful things about myself.”
Does she seriously believe it when toadying little assholes like this are so blatantly simpering at the feet of her camera crew? I guess she must, because she doesn’t tell him to take off his stupid sunglasses and the faux-Michael Jackson jacket and put the bullshit on layaway. In any case, she says that when Crisp Dung asked her what kind of song she wanted to record, she began reading him lines from her failed book “Class With The Countess: Exploring The Discount Dump Bins At Barnes And Noble” and he just fell in love with her saying “Money Can’t Buy You Class”.
Well, he’s just such a musical genius that he came up with a tired 90’s sounding house track and wants her to go into the studio now to “refine the choruses” and “double those vocals, it’s gonna make things sound a lot thicker.” Yeah, plus, you need to make sure you cue up the Pro Tools on your Mac there, Crisp… that program is good enough that you could fart into a microphone for 90 seconds and turn the result into an Italian aria.
Entering the studio, Cuntess says she feels like *snort* James Brown. Yes, they’re like twins those two. My jaw hit the ground when she claimed she’s been working on this song for “months”. Seriously? If she’s spent more than 15 minutes on it then she’s already wasted too much time. Even more ludicrous is when Crisp Dung starts doing a douchey head-bob while he plays the piano and she commences her warbling…
is anyone else hearing Haddaway’s “What Is Love?”
This dickbag is completely shameless and his musical credibility sails right on into the negative range when he interviews that LuLu has a “great voice” and claims that she reminds him of Madonna and Fergie. Why, because she’s a terrible actress, too, or because she pees herself on stage? I’m unclear on this comparison. The only honest thing he says about her vocals is that they’re “a little raspy” and that she’s got “a lower, bass-ier voice”…
yes, we ex-smokers would call that her “Virginia Slims Voice”
The majority of her song so far has been literally two notes repeated over and over, and when she goes for her one teensy little ascending mini-run she completely bones it. Then she blames it on her jacket making her too hot and takes it off. Then she opens her mouth and… hacks up a couple of chunks of blackened lung. She looks embarrassed, perhaps because Reality is trying to break through her Shell Of Delusion with news that sounds like “Hey, bitch, you can’t sing!”
Ahh, but Crisp Dung is able to head that off at the pass by basically filling her head with lies that music is “subjective” and that actual musical talent doesn’t really matter. Welllll, I guess these days it really doesn’t, thanks to Auto-Tune. Anyhow, when he name-drops Mariah Carey as an example of unbelievable ability it clearly makes the Cuntess uncomfortable being compared to someone who can actually sing. Ahh, but then he slathers it on even thicker by proclaiming her to already be a GREAT STAH with a GREAT PERSONALITY…
and a GREAT BIG PAIR OF TITS
And LuLu? Is. Eating. It. Up. It’s time to get her on the mic and lay down this shitty track that isn’t cool enough to even lick the anus of “Tardy For The Party” (which at least had a pretty cute hook and a decent beat by Miss Kandi, even if Kim Zolciak’s voice sounds like a blow-up doll with a slow leak). It is interesting to note that she’s amazed by how Crisp Dung “mixes and does all the magic” so that her time-commitment in doing the vocals is much less than she thought it would be and therefore she has more time to hang out with Jill and trash Bethenny spend with her kids.
I’m sure you’ve all heard this “song” by now, and how ludicrous it is to even call it that when she only “sings” the stupid chorus and then just huskytalkraps the so-called verses. What a fucking waste of studio time…
It’s even more hysterical how LuLu seems to think that having a song on iTunes is a sign that she’s made it big in the music biz. Let me reiterate: If Kim Zolciak can do it, it is not a difficult task.
Let us leave this scene of stupidity and staggering self-unawareness and head on down to the U.S. Virgin Islands where Bethenny, Sonja, Alex, Ramona and Leather have converged to begin the super-special-ultra-mega-luxurious surprise weekend that Crazy Eyes has planned for them…
and already Lady B and Leather are staying as far away from each other as possible
Ramona is busy yammering that she has packed extras of everything so if anybody needs to borrow anything she’s got them covered, whether it’s dresses, shoes, bathing suits, bejeweled crucifixes, etc. She should have included anti-psychotic meds amongst that list of items, but for now she interviews that she’s actually happy that Leather has joined them. She will be regretting those words shortly.
Meanwhile, Bethenny seems a tad dazed and not quite sure of why she’s there since she just finished burying her father. Add to the top of that shitheap the fact that she’s pregnant and hormonal and emotional and has had that awful Baba Yaga Jill Zarin gunning for her all over town, and I’m amazed she’s even standing upright. I would have been curled up in a fetal position in the corner of the darkest room in my house (which would be a closet, and I make it a point to stay as far away from those as I can). Anyhow, Lady B’s just trying to be cool and thinks perhaps a little sun and sea might have some slight healing benefits after all the drama she’s been through.
Well, nice try, but somebody fucked up and invited Leather along, and it isn’t ten minutes before she already wanna be startin’ something. Once inside the car, the ladies are sharing some pretzels and when Bethenny asks Sonja for a few more, Leather loudly declares “I don’t eat processed foods! I actually like Gummi Bears!”…
get used to seeing this clenched jawline
Bethenny asks Leather what she meant by that since Gummi Bears are made out of high-fructose corn syrup and therefore fall into the category of “processed”. Leather’s response? “That’s fun, though, that’s fun candy!” Oh, and I guess by virtue of it being “fun”, it is no longer considered a processed food? In LeatherWorld™, maybe. Anyhow, this is just a taste of what’s to come.
Once they arrive at the Marina, Ramona’s being secretive about what they’re going to do and just tells the ladies to all follow her. Leather interviews that she’s never been to a Bachelorette party before, she has no idea what to expect, “Are there gonna be strippers? Is this gonna be like a Vegas trip?”
“Are my eyes almost as off-kilter as Shannen Doherty’s?”
Jeez, Leather just shut up and follow the Crazy Eyed Lady to the pier. As they get closer everyone spots a giant luxury yacht that is bigger than both of my butt cheeks put together…
Oh good Lord, these bitches are so fucking lucky to have someone do something so nice for them! They just better let Ramona have all the Pinot Grigio she wants and kiss her ass the rest of the time they are here, because seriously, that is one gorgeous boat.
You know who really appreciates the gesture? Alex. She says this is the first time since she became a mother that she’s been away from her kids AND Simon, and it hasn’t been a business trip, so she is very excited at the prospect of some relaxing fun in the sun…
“Or, I would be if this weren’t the Ship Of Fools…”
Of course, Sonja’s still trying to keep up her “At one time I was far richer than ANY of you bitches” shtick as she yells out to the others “I loooove being on boats, I grew up with boats!” Big whoop, an inflatable Sevylor dinghy is no cause to get snooty, Sonja. Ahh, but then she spies the staff standing out in front of the boat, specifically the male staff…
“And if his balls fit in this hand, then I won’t be leaving my cabin!”
I’m kidding, she’s got a total titty hard-on for the actual boat itself and says it’s everything she’s “accustomed” to. Ugh, please! I’m kinda getting tired of her Lady Of The Manor bit. This boat is gorgeous, it should certainly be adequate for a woman of her “reduced standards”. And MORE than adequate for a bitch with a backyard that could easily be called “Shitball Heaven”.
It’s kinda cute to see Ramona and company running all over the boat and gawking at how beautiful it is, and I would have to say that I am more than a tad bit insanely jealous that a) I’ve never been to the Virgin Islands and b) I will never be on a yacht like that unless I am in uniform or being hired as an exotic dancer and c) a nutbag like Leather is standing in the middle of it all sucking up oxygen and emanating malevolent waves of stupid in all directions.
Out on deck everyone’s feeling exploring the boat, feeling elated and euphoric and enjoying the sunshine… getting caught up in the moment Sonja observes that they’re going to have a great time with all their friends. Then Ramona pipes up, “Well, Jill is gonna be eating crow!” Naturally this expression is completely foreign to Leather, who shouts “What? Eating what?”. I suspect because she is so far “up there” and the rest of us are way deep “down here” she has very little experience with colloquialisms and slang expressions such as “having a slice of humble pie” or “ignorance, thy name is Kelly” or “dumb as a box of dildoes”. I was half-expecting to hear Bethenny yell out from belowdecks “She said CROW, ya dumb deflated dufflebag!” Alex tries to defuse and restate it in general terms that anyone who isn’t there with them is missing out, and they are. But since Leather is there as an Agent Of The Dark Zarin Forces she makes sure to get all preachy, “Don’t worry about anyone else, worry about you!”
Under the circumstances I think Ramona has every right to be a little peeved and I think she’s got room to gloat a little bit. We all know that Jill Zarin loves her some luxury, too, or else she wouldn’t trot out her Saks Plutonium Card every time someone looks at her cross-eyed or Ginger shits the carpet. Crazy Eyes made it Crazy Clear that she really wanted Jill to come on this trip, and the fact that Jill is just too much of a whiny pissbag to put aside her bullshit for a couple of days and go celebrate a semi-special anniversary with her so-called friend has obviously hurt Ramona’s feelings a little.
To make herself feel a little bit better, she takes all the girls below so they can choose rooms, all of which are probably nicer than the one I sleep in every night. Then she takes out all fifteen bathing suits she brought with her and shows them off to the adoring captive audience that is Alex, Sonja and Leather. Help me out, ladies, is this fun and interesting for you to see someone else’s endless parade of bikinis?…
or is this a way to surreptitiously check the bottoms for accidental skidmarks?
So they cast off and head out for a three hour tour (you knew I had to, right?) Quick! Let’s pick who would be which characters on the Island. I say Leather is Gilligan, Sonja’s the Skipper, Bethenny’s the Professor, Alex is MaryAnne, Jill Zarin and the Cuntess can be Mr. and Mrs. Howell respectively, and Ginger is Ginger. How’d I do?
Anyhow, after some lounging in the sunshine and Crazy Eyes flaunting that damned awesome body of hers, it’s time for lunch… except Leather says she absolutely HAS to go change because she doesn’t like to eat in a bikini. I think she’s REALLY leaving so she can give her tits a good talking to about why they won’t play nice with each other and stay on the front of her chest.
Ramona tells us she’s been concerned about Bethenny and her Carly Simon hat possibly fragile state of mind, “Even though Bethenny can be like that tiger, I wanted to take care of her.” Ohhhh-kay, well, don’t complain when you wind up with claw-marks, K Crazy Eyes? You’ve been forewarned. Talk turns to such lighthearted lunchtime topics as death by terminal illness and parental rejection, and things start to get a little awkward until Ramona says very sweetly “I just wanna say I’m sorry.” and gives Lady B a kiss on the cheek. Awww, I love it when Crazy Eyes’ meds kick in! Of course, Bethenny starts to cry a little bit, as most people tend to do when offered condolences shortly after they’ve been through a traumatic event…
or maybe it’s because Leather just came back out.
Aaaaaaaaand we’re back to heavy and awkward… realizing she’s killing the party mood of her little luncheon, Ramona begins to loudly ask where the Pinot Grigio is (good girl!). Trying to be a trooper and shake it off, Bethenny says she saw some grapes in the fridge earlier and that she’ll be happy to stomp on them to make wine for Ramona if she wants. Everybody giggles a little… except Leather, who ruins everything by being so goddamned stupidly literal all the time: “What? No, I’m eating those. You’re not stomping on grapes!”
Tigerlily Bethenny’s back in an instant and pushing at her self-imposed restraints as she futilely tries to explain it to Leather, “Okay, it’s called a joke. It’s called humor. It’s called grapes make wine. Just a little bit of light humor…” Naturally, instead of just saying “OHH, I get it, I realize you were kidding” Leather insists on holding her hardline no-grape-stompage views: “No light humor over my grapes! That’s food you’re talking about!”…
having a good time, Leonora?
Proving once again that her sense of timing still sucks, Crazy Eyes decides now would be a good time to share something about the Wicked Bitch Of The East, Jill Zarin. Before she can even get start, Leather’s whining and trying to talk over her “Do we have to do this you guyyyyys? I don’t wanna talk badly about anybodyyyyy!” Ramona’s like “I’m not talking badly! I’m just gonna tell her what happened!” In kind of a bad tone of voice, so it’s totally different, right?
So she mentions about being at Jennifer The New Girl’s Tarty and that she passed on the news of Bethenny’s father dying to Jill, “And then Jill started to attack me and say ‘Why didn’t you tell me? What kind of friend are you?’” It’s pretty much the same old usual Zarin bile that you get whenever you don’t immediately text her after you’ve taken a righteous dump. “She just got really crazy on me!” says Crazy Eyes (with no sense of irony).
Oh, but Leather begs to disagree; “I was there. She didn’t get crazy, she didn’t attack, she was obviously really upset that she’s not a part of it, and that she can’t call you and talk about it.” Oh, so it’s normal behavior to run into someone’s pantry and fake-cry over their Stove-Top Stuffing and Pasta-Roni boxes? Ramona’s not backing down, either, “NO, she screamed at me and she said ‘You’re not my friend!’” and then the two of them are rapid-firing back and forth at each other while Bethenny considers heaving herself backwards over the railing…
“Yes, I am having a wonderfully relaxing and healing time here, thank you.”
Leather interviews that “It’s really not my game to talk badly about people.” Except when your lips are moving. How fucking nutballed is this bitch? Maybe she thinks the cameras don’t have any recording media in them and they’re just broadcasting everything live, and she figures we’ve all got the same nearly non-existent 4 kilobyte memory she has, so we won’t remember that she shit-talks just as much as everybody else on this show. Anyhow, she’s just so disturbed that the conversation “took a turn” into talking about Her Holiness Jill Zarin. Leather’s insisting to B-girl that the REAL reason Jill The Pill is upset is because she feels like she can’t call Bethenny directly and offer her condolences (and maybe garner a few more pieces of personal information that she can run to Perez Poopchute with).
Lady B has had enough: “Kelly, I mean, with all due respect, I think what she’s really upset about is that she ruined a friendship… and she WOULD have been the first one to be called had she not done so. It’s never about what it’s about.” Too true, that woman probably has ulterior motives even when she visits the ladies room.
Alex speaks up to tell the story of how SHE got a random text message from Jill asking if she had heard that Bethenny’s dad had died, and how much that bothered her to the point where she didn’t even bother to respond. Leather jumps back in to say that Alex just took Jill’s eager deathtexting all wrong, she wasn’t trying to rapidly spread Bethenny’s tragedy around, she was just trying to tell people what was going on. With her Ex-BFF. And her Ex-BFF’s estranged father. And her Ex-BFF’s baby. And her Ex-BFF’s fiancé…
“Sounds like a good friend to me.”
Then, to deflect people from thinking about how ludicrous her last statement was, Leather decides now would be a good time to try and attack Alex for her delivering Bethenny’s “Fuck off, Jill” message in a way that was “out of control”. (Sober, I guess?) Lady B points out that Alex has been putting up with Janky Jill’s bullshit for two years and she finally lost her temper with it all, and that’s just how it came out. Seeing that she’s not going to win, Leather goes to her usual fallback position, claiming she doesn’t care. Lady B instantly read my mind when her reply was “Then don’t comment.” SLAM-mah! How can Leather ever HOPE to top that one?…
“You guys are making, you know, lemons into lemonade.”
Bethenny’s getting that look again, the one that says “I wish I had a taser” as she tries to explain to Leather that “lemons into lemonade” means making something good come from something bad. “Not necessarily!” yells Leather, “You’re making something into something bigger!” Ahhhh, I know what she means now, and I hear someone in the background (I think it’s Sneaky Sonja) saying that Leather meant “Making mountains out of molehills.” It just degenerates from there into her full on yelling about much she respects the people she cares about and calling them all crazy (says the tall walnut-colored nut job)…
who is sitting in the most unladylike position imaginable
The Cuntess would be horrified. And she’d make another “hit song” out of it, if NeNe hadn’t beat her to it first with her rendition of “Close Yo Laigs (To Married Menz)!” Anyhow, Leather’s close to apoplexy, yelling whatever, she doesn’t care, and if they’re just going to point out how amazingly stupid she is every time she opens her mouth then she’s just going to take her lopsided tits and go… somewhere else on the same boat…
that is, if she can figure out how to make the door open
I’m sure Twunty has mentioned this before, but it bears repeating that JUST BECAUSE YOU LOUDLY SAY THE SAME SHIT OVER AND OVER AGAIN DOESN’T MAKE YOU RIGHT… LEATHER. It’s just so “I know you are, but what am I?” and “Nanny-nanny-boo-boo stick-your-head-in-doo-doo” and “I am rubber, you are glue, bounce off me and I wanna come at you with a baseball bat and really fuck your shit up, bitch.”
Anyhow, after she leaves, the girls all take a few minutes to ask each other what the fuck that was all about (Bethenny says the humor of Leather almost smashing her face into the glass door was not lost on her) and just when you think everybody’s on the same page, we cut to Sonja making disapproving faces. She interviews that she wasn’t into the “negative Jill talk” AT ALL…
“I AM interested in dressing like a cupcake, though.”
I hate it when she plays at being the disinterested third party and impartial observer who is just so far above the gossip and whatnot. Her claim that she doesn’t know Jill well enough to form an opinion and that she doesn’t “have an iron in the fire” is just plain bullshit. And in any case, the other three women DO have irons in the Zarin-fire, so let them talk about it and get it out of their system without trying to be so judgmental of them. Besides, ‘Gasmii, how many times do YOU have to see someone display total and complete bitchassness in order to form an opinion about what kind of person they are? Twice? Three times? Twunty-eleventy-seventixth times?
Anyhow, now that the Toxic Football has left the scene, everybody has a chance to calm down and comment about how nice everything is (yeah, now that Leather’s gone) and Ramona’s plan for dealing with her is to just let her calm down, take a time out and maybe have some Gummi Bears. With Vicodin inside them, perhaps.
Ruh-roh, she’s baaaaack! And much calmer. And still pantsless, I see. So Leather doesn’t like eating in a bikini, but she doesn’t mind rubbing her cootchie all over those nice cushions. Bleh. I bet that the boat staff is out there SECONDS after she leaves armed with multiple bottles of Lysol and FeBreeze. Ramona says she is started to get a little upset that Leather seems hell-bent for herself to be nothing but a pain in the ass to everyone and ruin the super-special luxury weekend that Crazy Eyes has meticulously planned out…
“She better hope the Voices don’t start telling me to burn or stab things.”
After a day filled with sun, swimming, and stupidity, night has fallen on St. John. Lady B is enjoying the evening on the deck lounge when Alex shows up and asks if she’s noticed that they are currently parked right next to the Hooters Patrol boat. Yay! Mediocre wings for everyone! Bethenny’s boobs have sure plumped up with her pregnancy, I guess?
In any case, there is a nice quiet moment where Alex gently asks after Lady B, how is she holding up? What follows is the conversation that Jill would have literally KILLED to have been a part of, but now she has to watch it on TV at the same time as the rest of us…
this could have been you, Jill Zarin… except you would have been interrupting her and telling her how she should feel, so I’m glad it’s Alex instead.
She’s opening up about how her father made kind of a backhanded final apology in which he basically said he was sorry they didn’t get along, which, if he left when she was just a kid, then that isn’t really her fault, and it makes me wonder what his excuse was in the intervening years. Nevertheless, Bethenny just took it for what it was and made peace with it. She has clearly been deeply affected by the experience of seeing someone get very sick and die up close and personal. She’s also dealing with a little bit of natural guilt that followed when she found herself relieved and almost happy the ordeal was over. Now that it has all finally played out, she just wants to put that part of her life behind her.
Alex is a total sweetiepie, and reassures Lady B that it’s OK for her not to sugarcoat the relationship or the experience of being near the man when he died, just because you get there before their final breath does not automatically make everything wonderful between you. At least her father was honest with her about how he felt, and apparently invited the same from her. And I don’t know about you guys, but I have always felt that it’s natural to feel some measure of relief when a loved one has finally finished the Journey and moved on… For me there’s that moment when the pressure of all the waiting and worrying and fear of death is lifted and I just feel cleaned out and empty… and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to go out and get on with your life now that you’ve been immersed in being witness to someone else’s ending.
Back to Bethenny and Alex’s Moment, Lady B says she’s glad she came and then she and Alex share a sweet WTF moment over Leather’s bizarre behavior that afternoon. Before they can help themselves they are losing their shit completely…
I guess thanks are in order to Leather for giving Bethenny something to laugh about
Yeah, that whole “mountain lemonade from molehillemons” thing was pretty priceless, and now Bethenny rips off Twunty’s joke and says she is DYING to ask Leather “Did you go to Columbia the country? I just wanna make sure, cuz there’s no effin’ way that that broad went to college!” America agrees.
Let’s go back to New York City for a moment, shall we? We haven’t seen or heard anything from Jill yet tonight…
oh, wait, there she is!
Nope, I’m wrong, that’s actually one of the hair-plugs that fell out of the scalp of Cuntess’ date for the evening…
what is his name again? Crockett? Tubbs? Cortisone?
I disremember somehow. Anyhow, LuLu looks a little frightened to be walking down a street that’s clearly part of Chinatown, but Sonny Crockoerte there says “Doyer Street is legendary, I mean the Chinese gang wars are here, they called it ‘The Bloody Angle’…” Heavens! What kind of restaurant is he taking the Cuntess to? “This place was an opium den.” He says conspiratorially. Oh really. I don’t know about the rest of you, but the minute I heard this guy saying all this shit it had the distinct characteristics of “compulsive liar” running through it like a pee-stain on tighty-whiteys.
LuLu’s trying to trot out the poor, put-upon, damaged divorcée thing, and claims that going out with Crockoerte is just really super fun for her, she’s ready to let her hair down and “have a good time”. As if she hasn’t been letting her panties hair down and having a good time for the last few years with any number of random wandering penises of New York. Anyhow, they’re at some kind of weird apothecary bar where supposed “pharmacists” put together these amazing drinks that can do just about anything…
except make this douche look attractive
Crockoerte makes a lot of faces like that. Anyhow, after they order something vile from the menu (I love it when the Cuntess takes a sip of hers and says that it buuuurns…. Which makes me suspect that she ordered the “Holy Water”) then Crockoerte gets serious and says he’s got something for her, and begins reaching into his pocket! Ew. Ew. Ew. Ewie. Ew. Oh, wait, no, he’s not taking his dick out (thank GAWD) it’s actually… a copy of his own book…
now if she could only read Esperanto
She cannot hide her faux excitement over being handed this tacky so-called “gift” that was meant to be seen on TV and gain Crockoerte some free exposure. Way to attempt to ride the Cuntess’ tattered coattails, dude. And what kind of dickbag gives his own book as a present to someone on a date? A super-creepy dickbag, that’s who. I don’t know what kind of beer goggles the Cuntess has on right now, but she’d better sober up and take them off soon, or she could wind up picking blonde hair-plugs (and pubes) out of her teeth before the night is over.
Seriously, does this guy think he’s got smooth moves? He keeps lunging for the Cuntess’ mouth like he’s a trout after some cheese…
and the cheese keeps outsmarting him
Then one of the bartenders realizes what kind of Z-listers frequent this place and he tries to burn it alllll down…
or maybe this is just their way of disinfecting everything that Crockoerte touched
That was seriously the Grossest Date in the History of Heterosexuality! Let’s go back to St. John and see what delights dinner holds for us! Well, for starters, Crazy Eyes has made up a seating chart, which is very slumber-party of her, but I guess I don’t blame her so much after the lunch flamewar that erupted earlier. Lady B’s no fool, though, and she knows that she and Leather are being separated with a wall of Crazy Eyes on purpose.
Alex decides to make a nice toast to the five of them, and backhands the Gruesome Twosome back in Manhattan, “Whoever isn’t here, isn’t here, and they’re missing out!” Ramona sweetly adds, “Here’s to never sucking the air out of a room!” Yay! A Zarinless meal is a well-digested one.
Later, after an apparently tranquil dinner that was free of misappropriated metaphors and people crashing into glass doors, we find Sonja, Bethenny, Alex and Leather gathered in the living room of the yacht having a few cocktails and chatting (Crazy-Eyes is apparently trying to sell her Christian-themed joorey to the lost souls over on the Hooter’s Big Boob Boat Ride next door) and Lady B starts to open up a little more about her father’s passing.
She’s mentioning that it was hurtful how she couldn’t quite get rid of the hope that her dad might show a little remorse for how he had acted towards her, or tell her he loved her, but no, “He was saying he had a great, full life.” I guess without her in it. Sorry, but that? Just. Sucks.
You know, most normal sane people upon hearing something like that would have offered condolences or a hug and commiserated with her on how hard that must have been for her to hear him say. Leather, on the other hand, thinks this is the perfect time to start preaching that Bethenny needed to just let him say that kind of hateful bullshit, “That was his life, and that was his moment.” Lady B’s response is immediate: “Then don’t have a child.” Word, girlfriend!
But Leather isn’t about to be contradicted, even if she’s really treading in dangerous waters, by God, she’s got her axe and she’s gonna fucking grind it no matter if Bethenny’s entire FAMILY just died, “I mean, there’s so many people that have a similar story to you, I have to be honest with you, it’s not something that’s uncommon.”
still glad you came?
Sonja’s like “Are you kidding me? You’re dying, and you say to your kid, ‘Oh, well, I’ve had a full life… without you.’? No, that’s devastating.” Leather insists she’s not dismissing that fact (except she kinda is) but claims a lot of people have the same situation with incredibly selfish dying asshole dads, “And you know, you have to appreciate him for what he was to you.”…
…”Which was a horrible, terrible human being.” Finishes Bethenny. I cannot even begin to list all the ways in which Leather is being stupid with a capital SUCK. I may be a dumbass about a lot of things, but I do know that you simply do not tell the recently bereaved how they have to feel about anything EVER. Try it sometime, and you’re likely to wind up with a giant piece of grief-buffet cake smooshed up your nose and then look like an asshat for making a widow cry.
Crazy Eyes saves the day by breezing in and gushing about how she met “Champ” (who owns Hooters) on his yacht next door, and she scored some of the all-important Pinot Grigio, so her personal party has already startyed. She even got this guy to extend an invite to all the ladies to come over later, which, if he had any clue what he had done, he’d be casting off his lines and fleeing for St. Croix or St. Thomas.
Anyhow, I’m not sure how much time has passed, but suddenly Sonja is completely and utterly fuuuuucked uuuuuuuup and weaving and slurring and she starts asking Leather if she ever thinks about women during sex! Huh? Where is THAT coming from??…
perhaps her vagina is telling her “Any port in a storm, you’re horny, see if you can’t get the most manly-looking one in the bunch to bump fuglies with me.”
Well, I guess multiple shots of Patron have set Sonja free, and she loudly opines that Leather’s whole problem is being super-uptight from a lack of sex. Leather insists she’s VERY sexual (please, for the love of my already-eaten lunch, stop now) but with only ONE PERSON. Sonja slurs that Ol’ Football Skin just needs to get laid more and she’ll be a lot more fun and a lot less like a persistent yeast infection.
Now Leather’s offended that Skanky Sonja’s suggesting she go have some kind of lowly one-night stand! Sonja’s like, what’s the big deal, Ramona’s had a one-night stand, Bethenny’s had a one-night stand (hell, SONJA’s probably had one in the last half-hour and that’s why she got so drunk so quickly and the boat was a-rockin’!). Alas, you can’t ever try and compare Leather to other people, because she just isn’t like other people: “I don’t have one-night stands. Ever.”…
“I always buy them in pairs, one for each side of the bed. DUH.”
KIDDING, this is an expression that she actually sorta understands. Well, not really, because then she interviews “It’s not my style to have unprotected sex, it’s not my style to sleep around all over America!” Ohhh-kay, well nobody said one-night stands couldn’t involve condoms, and also, quite frankly, I don’t think most of America wants to stick their collective dicks into your brittle, crazy, bat-wingyness. She just goes on and on and on about how she’s from the Mid-WEST and she wasn’t RAISED like that, she only has sex with people she really CARES about. Ah, but Sonja’s not letting her off the hook and slurs, “Kelly, I juss doan beleeeve you! *hic*” Then Leather goes for the throat when she insists…
yes, because you wouldn’t be able to
Yeah, if I wasn’t gay before, I most certainly would be now. And protruding clavicles are not a turn on to me. But her little dig hit home with Sonja, whom we’ve already seen feels somewhat self-conscious about her slowly melting body, and now Sonja’s starting to sound all cry-ey voiced as she reminisces about how great her boobs used to be before she had kids, and how her self-esteem took such a huge hit when her marriage fell apart, and great, thanks Leather, now she’s crying, and a weepy drunk is a HUGE buzzkill, amiright?
Sonja sniffles she doesn’t want to play the victim, especially since she believes Bethenny doesn’t play the victim, either. Hearing even small praise for Lady B makes Leather get mad all over again! “Why does everyone have to have a title? ‘Victim’! ‘Survivor’! Why do they have to have that? Why? Why can’t you just enjoy the life that you’re in right now?”
Maybe she cried some of the Patron away, because Sonja suddenly has a semi-lucid moment and zings Leather right back: “You’re not judgmental (HA!)… but you do get a little upset when people are having emotions. You don’t like to feel a lot of emotion.” Ouch, I think she hit her where she lives with that one, and I suspect that’s part of the reason why Leather is on such an uneven keel most of the time. If you bottle shit up for too long, it’s gonna eventually come out when you least expect or desire it to.
Naturally Leather’s comeback to this is to say something randomly insane, such as “To be honest with you, this whole feelings thing, it’s like 1979, honestly.” Well, let’s see, in 1979 Leather would have been an 11-year-old, so, yup, I can see why she would say that, because I believe that’s the age where her emotional maturity has been arrested…
“Let’s eat Gummi Bears!”
Sonja insists that she sees Lady B as not playing the victim, but being a survivor. Leather interjects that that’s not true, she believes Bethenny plays the victim a lot, and suddenly she’s on the attack again! “Bethenny tries to make people feel bad so that she can feel better, which is NOT a good quality!” Oh REALLY? You know that description sounds really familiar about someone else…
namely, Satan here
Lady B is puzzled where this is coming from (as is everyone else who ever hears Leather speaking) and wants to know when she’s ever intentionally tried to make other people feel bad. Leather brings up that fateful charity meeting from 50-60 years ago in which Bethenny said “I’m a yes person, you’re a no person.” I guess she forgot all about the whole “I’m way up here, and you’re way down there.” Comment that she’s famous for. Bethenny is shocked that Leather is STILL upset about that stupid “yes/no person” thing from way back in the Pleistocene Era and says “You have to let it go.” Leather yells back, “No YOU need to let it go!” Lady B is all “I haven’t said a word. You keep bringing it up. You brought it up three times this year. Stop with the past!”
Then Leather makes a weird comment implying that Bethenny was somehow responsible for putting her “in the press every second and defaming my kids and hurting my family.” WHAT? Where in the Pretty Pink Prozacs is she getting this from? Lady B breaks out the “I” word: “I never talked about your kids once! You’re insane!” Proving her right, Leather spits back “Nobody cares about you, Bethenny. No one. No one cares. You’re vindictive and malicious and cunning and deceitful, and it’s creepy.” Ahh yes, Leather’s favorite word for everything. Then she accuses Lady B of not being a chef, saying that she’s just “a cook”, and B’s like, bitch, I went to culinary school, you moron, and then she stabs her to death. OK, not really, but I could see her control starting to slip.
She rightfully points out that Leather keeps saying all these things that Bethenny does and insisting that nobody cares about her, but yet Leather sure seems to care, because she keeps bringing old shit up and just constantly trying to come at her with little or no provocation. Something just isn’t right with Leather, and it’s getting scary. Like this little interview tidbit: “I’d rather have her give me her resumé, so I could actually see what she’s done, than, like, sit here with her… ‘Ah da da da da da da da da da!’… I’m like, ‘Oh, god, shut up.’”
Sonja may be drunk off her ass, but she’s not so far gone that she can’t still ask a good question, “Why do you say she’s a cook and not a chef?” Leather’s brilliant reply is “Because I don’t know if she’s a cook or a chef.” Lady B has had it: “Then why would you say something? You speak and you don’t know what you’re saying! You are the most unintelligent human being I have ever had the pleasure to be around!”
Game, set and match go to Bethenny Frankel. All Leather can come back with is to make more unfounded accusations of Lady B somehow mysteriously harming her children and then calling her a media whore and a ho bag. With that, Bethenny decides to head on over to the Hooters boat where she can have far more intelligent conversations.
Ugh, Leather is truly a horrible woman and I feel sorry that she’s clearly losing her mind, because her crazy accusations and habit of constantly bringing up past slights speak of an unhealthy interest that borders on obsession.
Meanwhile, Ramona and Alex have been partying it up with the titsy crowd next door, and Crazy Eyes is also full-on schnockered, but not in an ugly way, she’s actually saying she’s more in love with her sweet Serial Killer Mario now than she was on the day she married him…. And not only is she still in LOVE with him, but she’s…
Pinot Grigio breath is sexy, too
She’s actually pretty cute, being bubbly and giggly and (for once) not annoying. Suddenly Bethenny shows up to warn them of her latest altercation with Leather, and right after she finish the Story Of Leather’s Departure From Earth, in walks ol’ Football Face and a slightly wobbly Sonja, who loudly complains that everybody tried to ditch her and leave her stuck with Leather. Crazy Eyes has had it up to her bejeweled crucifix with Leather’s antics and slurrily vows to take action…
looks like Bethenny just got a good whiff of her Pinot Grigio breath, too
And true to her word when Leather finally turns around Ramona does just that: “Will you juss, like, have peace? ‘Cuz I don’ need, like, stress in my shtomach, ok? I-I—I wanna have fun, and, like, when I hear, like, you have an altercation with her or her or her… I want you to be peaceful, and if you’re not gonna be peaceful, then not be here.”
It doesn’t work, Leather just keeps on with her same old tired tactic of denial and claiming everyone else is the problem and just repeating herself louder and louder, and GOD do I wish someone would just get up the guts to push her wizened ass overboard.
We end the night with Ramona saying it’s “Turtle time” and wanting Lady B and Alex to join her in it. In my world when you hear someone say “turtle time”, it’s usually referring to a sexual interlude that was so awful and so far the opposite of sexy that it made your dick crawl back inside your body. And while spending an evening with Leather would probably have the same effect, it turns out they’re actually referring to this place…
Whose logo is probably based on the bodies of many of the men who own these fantastic yachts
In the end, Lady B says she’d rather go hit up the Fat Turtle than spend any time with that toad that’s back on the boat, so she consents to have Turtle Time with Alex and Crazy Eyes, and the three of them look like they have an absolute blast…
thanks for the side-boobage instead of a full-frontal, Alex!
Ramona says it’s the best night she’s ever had with girlfriends EVAH! Meanwhile, Sonja’s back on the boat slyly standing near Leather’s cabin and repeatedly complaining that “It smells like cat pee in here, doesn’t it?” Hmmm, whatever could she mean by that? I’ve often heard people say that METH USERS smell like cat piss. Is this Sonja’s way of tattling on some (even more) unsavory behavior on Leather’s part? Who knows? But I can tell you that she mentions it about six times in a row before diving into bed with Leather (looking for her to share?).
Next episode we get this…
Bethenny’s patented Blow-Job Lips™
I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that pointing finger, would you? You’d have to crazy to want that! I guess it’s no surprise that Leather is the one across from her, then.
What did you think of this episode? Can you believe there was not one minute of Jill Zarin? Why do you think that was? And is Kelly on crank, or is it mental illness? Why is she so fixated on everything Bethenny is doing, has done, or will ever do?
I want to thank you guys for sticking with me here, I know it’s weird to have someone else doing a show you really love by another recapper, I hope I did it some justice and Twunty will be back real soon, okay?
Love, J-Mo : )