We’re headed back to New York with the bitches this week. The summer season in The Hamptons is over and it’s time for everyone to decamp to their respective cubbyholes in the New York skyline, teach a class at The Learning Annex and cause scenes at fashionable events.
It takes a certain type of person to survive in the big city. If you want to make it you have to jump out of the gate with an almost pioneer spirit, an absolute will to overcome or adapt to any situation. Some people manage to do that, others feel their backbone wilt in the face of their fears, and are losers before their feet ever touch the ground at LaGuardia. Our girls are winners. Was there ever any doubt?
But to thrive in New York, to really, really thrive? For that you need money, lots of it. You don’t even need to be enterprising, sometimes the money just comes to you, and so it is with dear darling LuLu.
You see, she has been asked to host an event for Ungaro and that is why she is abandoning her moist country retreat for her smaller digs in the city. She may be count-less, but she’s still a supah-staah in the Bravolebrity world, and that counts for something when you have racks and racks of frocks to unload on the rich and label conscious.
Vicki is travelling with her and they look at the fourteen year old’s two choices in heels for that evening’s soiree. They decide on a slightly shorter (3 inches) ‘less sophisticated’ pair and all I can say is, what in the name of Suri Cruise is going on here?
It’s amazing to me how times have changed, or perhaps it is just a New York thing? When I was 14 I had to hide my 2 1/2 inch heeled Bare Traps in my gym bag and change into them on the bleachers before school. My mother didn’t even know I had them, she thought they were my older sisters. I would have died if she found them because they represented almost an entire month of babysitting money, and they would have gone straight to Goodwill.
No such problem for the blossoming Victoria. The two lady D’s discuss Kelly’s Playboy shoot, and the gist of their opinions is that it’s okay to show your milk machines but not the baby making bits. Whatever, I could care less what LuLu thinks about anything. That woman has zero authenticity.
The part of the chitchat in the Beemer that really grabbed my interest was when LuLu asked young Victoria what she would think if mummy dear posed in that naughty, naughty rag. She subsequently learned that some of her daughter’s fellow ninth graders thought that Ms. DeLetitslip still has it going on.
“What did they say, what did they say?” was yummy mummy’s reply, and the poor girl had to admit that some hormonally blinded child called her mother ‘hot.’ It’s weird for Victoria to have a classmate think of her mother in that way, and LuLu admits that it’s awkward and “dirty.”
“That’s so dirty, Victoria. You don’t happen to have his number, do you darling?”
Did you notice the embellishment that Victoria had in her hair? It looked like something that might be Native American. I wonder if she is embracing that aspect of her ancestry now that her French daddy left them, or maybe it’s just cooler to have that heritage instead of the whole royalty thing. I sure hope so. Hey, maybe she can grow up to own her own casino one day!
And hire her mom for the topless bar.
She is such a pretty girl. I hope she becomes a cool sweet level-headed girl like Crackie’s daughter Briana. She sure is getting a similar education on how not to behave, and what NOT to aspire to. As for Kelly’s little girls, it’s too early to tell.
They are accompanying their high waisted model mother to dinner to have the dreaded Playboy shoot conversation. Old Leatherface is still dressing them in matchy-matchy outfits but I do love little Teddy and Sea’s Hello Kitty t-shirts. I have an extra special similar t-shirt for their mom.
maybe if she wears it they’ll start talking to each other.
The kiddies are cute, happy and content to eat their french fries while mommy asks them what they think about Playboy. They don’t seem to care about the magazine but Teddy tells her that to some, it makes her look like a bad parent. They tell her that she’s pretty and that they appreciate how hard she works for them, and Sea tells her that her curly hairdo makes her look old. Hahaha, kids say the darnedest things!
“Oops! Did I say old? You’re fun though. I mean you do fun things. Just not with us.”
Is she ever around her own kids? It felt like a meal between a divorced dad and the children he sees every other weekend, with Sea referring to her own mom as HER and not YOU. It just didn’t strike me as the kind of conversation you would have if you spent a lot of time with them.
So, they sip on their straws and little Teddy doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. She likes to see her mommy in pretty dresses, not tacky bunny ears, so excuse her while she leafs through her coloring book and places glittery little stickers on Barbie’s chest in preparation for what she will be doing to HER when all those copies of Playboy arrive.
Don’t worry, honey. Nobody’s looking. They all think mommy’s a man.
Those New York kids, they grow up fast, but prudishness is everywhere, ignorance too. Even eating disorders are rampant, which I hope that they never have to endure. Why do I bring up eating disorders? Because Bethenny is teaching a class at The Learning Annex about leading the Skinny Girl life.
Hearing her say that she went through a period where she was obsessed with food and dieting is not surprising. Neither is the ever popular model bashing. Models are easy targets and nobody has sympathy for what a gorgeous genetically gifted clothes hanger has to go through to stay that way. I mean, I knew girls that would literally faint on the subway from starving themselves.
No, what surprised me was that she seemed so much calmer and talked less like a machine gun and more like a normal human being for a change. She did a good job, was goofy and charming and completely approachable to everyone that spent their hard earned money to hear her.
After her speech was over she signed books and was friendly to her admirers. Say what you want about The Jaw, the girl knows how to sell. She has her own brash sense of humor but she never lets it get in the way of connecting to her audience. We’ll see if she can communicate with Jill so effortlessly later.
But first, it’s Bawby time. He’s rocking a much smaller Polo player on his shirt as he sits in his awful living room on the phone with his doctor. The tests came back and they’re…………all clear! Yay, Bawby’s in remission! I sincerely hope that it stays that way, the guy’s a real mensch.
Jill comes in and he tells her the good news. Everyone is happy, even Ginger. She does a little jig and Jill promises to honk some extra boogies into her dog bowl later. Bawby wants to celebrate and I am one hundred percent behind him with that idea.
PLEASE start by redecorating.
I am still hating on the decor. I want to let it go but every single time I look at that color scheme and those patterns, I want to grab Jill by her auburn flip and shake her until she admits what a huge mistake she made. If she really liked those colors and that fabric she should have used it as an accent. You know, table linens that you can change, some throw pillows, not the damn walls.
And don’t get me started on the ghastly Rococo curio cabinets in the hallway. They belong in Victoria Gotti’s formal dining room, not a Yenta’s upper east side apartment. You can barely squeeze past them when you walk in the door! No wonder Brad isn’t around anymore. He turned a perfectly lovely home into something out of Casino. Can they take away your decorating license for that? They should.
Anyway, I have no idea how they celebrated the good news. Maybe Jill let him grab a highball and take the Mercedes out for a spin to grandma’s basement? I hope that he got there before Noel ransacked the place. Never underestimate the wiles of a pubescent boy.
Oh well, Bawby can always buy Kelly’s issue. Have any of you seen it? I haven’t. I prefer my smut smutty and those girls don’t resemble people so much as Real Dolls. If I want nudity, I usually head on over to Fleshbot or watch Colin Farrel’s naughty sex tape. Playboy is kind of boring to me, and so is Kelly’s shoot.
You guys are right. She does look slightly masculine with those broad shoulders and thick middle. But you know what? She looks damn good for 41, and I said it before and I’ll say it again, the girl has killer legs. She also has that outdoors-y healthy as a horse look that some men find appealing. Must be an Equus thing.
KK has a nice queen doing her make-up and he asks her why she keeps holding her handbag in front of her face, I mean if the other girls are going to be jealous. Not so much (as far as she knows) and then he brings up the PETA photo shoot that Bethenny just did. Sorry, no comparison. Playboy vs. PETA? Are you kidding? Yes, they both involve nudity. Yes, they are both iconic. But there is a huge difference. Whether you agree with them or not, the anti fur campaign raises awareness for an issue, Playboy raises something altogether different.
Or is this for Horse and Hound?
Kelly says that she wears fur, and eats meat and chicken wings just like most of the other people that grew up in the midwest. She has a point. Most people out here think that PETA is run by a bunch of crazy communist bark eaters. You’d have to wrestle their Big Macs and fur lined parkas from their cold dead hands.
My opinion is more along the lines of something Woody Allen said about the world being one enormous restaurant. Plants are eating bugs, bugs are eating plants, critters munch on critters. Cruelty abounds. I don’t wear fur but I sure love meat. I’d like to see the cruelty kept to a minimum. Don’t go clubding baby seals right in front of their mothers and don’t mess with endangered species. If you really want to kill something, join the army. Become a cannibal. Eat people.
There are plenty of those around.
Besides, this isn’t a competition. I really don’t carewhat Kelly thinks, just don’t sound like an idiot when you explain yourself. Too late. Quote- “It’s not like you’re posing nude, you’re posing nude for the most infamous book in the world.”
Since when is Playboy a book? Can I find it in the library between The Pickwick Papers and Pride and Prejudice? She truly does live in a delusional world of her own making. I’ll reserve judgement on the nude comment. You tell me if she showed her bottle caps or not. I have no desire to see it. Do you know how long it took me to get Alex’s genetalia out of my visual cortex? I could have redecorated Jill’s place ten times over by now, and God help us all if LuLu is next.
I would need to be on some serious drugs to deal with that, and if the crowd at the Ungaro party is any indication, I wouldn’t have far to look. Who is that I spot in the crowd? Dina Lohan, mother of the year. Long Island’s best example of how to pick up awards for mothering addicts while endorsing checks that you earned for signing your name to any crap that falls into your lap, WHILE reading Google Lohan alerts and suing people for not paying enough attention to you. So yeah, a celeb you’d be super psyched to know.
There’s another fashionable nightmare in the house, none other than her daughter, Miss Lindsay Lohan, erstwhile pretend designer of that venerable house. I beleive that her contribution was to put glitter pasties on the runway models. Voila:
I have an out of body experience as I listen to Jill brag, actually BRAG about knowing Dina Lohan. Who knows, maybe Ms. Supermom is a world class schmoozer, maybe she has Jill snowed into thinking that she’s a fun, fabulous mother of a celebrity. I’m sorry but every time I see this woman she is earning a buck the easy way- off the backs of her kids as their agent or endorsing stuff like ‘green’ toothbrushes. And, AND why isn’t Ali in school? I cannot tell you how many times I’ve read about her going to adult nightclubs at age 15 with her coked out sister and staying there until 2 in the morning. What. The. Fuck. So, brag away, Zarin. Brag away. You are making Bethenny look better and better every minute.
Anyhoo, Ungaro obviously loves the attention that hiring famewhores brings to their brand because four out of the six women show up. It’s a big party, a really big crowded nightmare of wall to wall people, ten percent of which is security.
If it was just Dina, maybe four or five guys would be enough but Lindsay too? Good Lord, there aren’t enough exploding ink cartridges in the WORLD. Girl would steal the collar off of a three legged dog in a third world country if she thought it was cute.
LuLu is working an amethyst colored off the shoulder dress and Jill has on a hot pink sheath whose skirt she keeps pulling down when she’s seated. Up walks Alex in a purple one shouldered sashed, uh, I don’t know….trash bag? If this is what is passing for high fashion these days, I guess I’ll have to break out my old prom dresses or start shopping in the bridemaids’ section at Filene’s Basement.
Sheesh, all that bad fashion was giving me a headache when up, out of nowhere, like Venus rising from her seashell, comes this bashful creature of exquisitely refined taste- the Bobby Trendy of New York:
Girrrrrrl, where’s your boa?
Lindsay probably stole it.
Alex introduces this nameless creature as her “Day Gay.” Damn, if that’s her day gay, what in the Marquis de Sade hell does her Night Gay look like, something out of Hostel?
His outfit is so bizarre. He put a Tahari style pantsuit with a one of Ivana Trump’s old patterned silk blouses, threw on some red and white cowboy boots and jazzed it up with Alex’s studded leather sleep mask as a headband. Am I forgetting something? Oh yeah, a CORSET. If you are a man and you have any of those items in your closet-
Congratulations, you like spooge.
But you don’t need me to tell you that, now do you? Nor do I need to tell you that Jill thinks that he’s ridiculous. He is, but this is Silex we’re talking about. What did she expect her day gay would look like, Jake Gyllenhaal?
Kelly arrives and Simon shares a little story about how Frankie calls her Tiger. No one knows why but he’s a little boy so who knows? Maybe he caught mommy roaring at daddy in the dungeon and it stuck in his brain somehow.
Jill can’t resist bringing up the stupid story LuLu told her about little Frankie crawling up a friend of Simon’s pant leg. Then she makes a crack about including a chapter in her book on what to do in those situations. Alex informs us all that she does have a certain chapter in her parenting book on ‘Not listening to the well meaning morons,’ and Ziiiing! Haha, I cannot wait for that to come up at the reunion.
And what is she supposed to do, beat the kid? He was acting like a silly child that wanted some attention. I’m sure that Simon grabbed him off of the guy’s leg and that was the end of it. Is it me or do they blow everything out of proportion on this show? I think it’s because they don’t really know each other and they judge people on the tiny fraction of their lives that they are exposed to, kinda like us, quite frankly.
One more thing- is Jill drunk? Is famously non-drinking Mama Zarin getting sauced? She is gigglier than normal and even more loose lipped than Ramona usually is. Probably not, but she sure wants to get Alex drunk. Everyone wants to know what happened at Ramona’s party, Jill really really wants to hear some dirt. She’s practically foaming at the mouth but when Alex simply tells her that she stayed at Ramona’s because she asked, but that is not good enough.
There’s talk about which team she is on and Alex says that she seems to be the only person that is friends with everyone. I guarantee that somebody (Jill) won’t be letting that last very long.
They start talking about Kelly’s Playboy spread and Jill And LuLu voice their support for her decision. I swear to God I was thinking the same thing as Alex when she called them hypocrites in interviews. They gave her so much shit for posing nude in pictures that would have never seen the light of day if Alex hadn’t chosen to appear on this show, and now they barely peep when Kelly gets a gig that would never had even happened ALSO if it wasn’t for this show.
I don’t know how Alex kept her cool when they said, “Of course, YOU’RE okay with it,” when referring again to the nude pictures. You let your labia hang out in arty pictures, you minxy trollop. You probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid if LuLu started passing out Polaroids of the count’s fist up her royal derriere.
And if you ever need to discipline your children, just use this scary picture.
You guys know how I feel about nudity, and what Alex says is pretty much the same thing. LuLu is getting progressively drunker off their generously poured sea breezes and starts in about how Playboy and kink are two very different things.
Okay, sure. But not really. It’s all about what gets you off. Some people get aroused by innocent looking airbrushed Barbies, some like whips and chains and blood. As long as it doesn’t involve rape or children, who cares? Besides, at least Alex wasn’t photoshopped to within an inch of her life. You know that Kelly will be.
Plus, Alex’s tits are on speaking terms. Kelly’s have to holler to each other over the Grand Canyon of her chest.
Pfft, what a mess. Is it me or is this show unravelling a bit? It is starting to feel like the season of regrets. The season that some of these ladies will look back on and cringe at their behaviour, maybe even make an effort to travel down that elusive high road that Crackie took on this season of the O.C. hoes. Probably not, though. The egos in New York dwarf the SoCal gals. You might as well be spitting peas at Jupiter.
Or taking advice from psychics.
Jill, Jill, Jill. Nothing will lose you credibility faster than taking advice from high priced charlatans. What is the point? Honestly, if they can help the cops find missing children, that’s one thing, but making choices based on stuff that may or not be complete bullshit? That is just plain stupid.
And LuLu must be desperate to agree to come over to get a reading. She says that she’s a bit apprehensive, what with all those boys from the Lacrosse team she shtupped while Noel and Vicki were in the South of France with Count Porksalot. Wouldn’t want THAT getting out.
Who knows what might hop onto this telepathic’s wavelengths? Please God, not the blow job/busboy tryst at Bar Luna, or heaven forbid that one time she lost control with the cute Peurto Rican boy that happened to deliver her groceries on a particularly sultry day when her urges were more frenzied than usual.
This snake oil saleswoman tells LuLu that she’s going to meet someone very different than the count, a banker or seller of something. Sooooo different, and his name will begin with the letter ‘J.’ Oh my gosh, LuLu is sort of seeing someone whose first name starts with that letter!
And one with the letter ‘K’ and ‘L’ and ‘M’…….
The topic of Bethenny is raised and the psychic tells Jill that the Skinny Girl is flapping her lips all over town about the situation because she is feeling so terribly guilty about what she said. Um, if she is? She’s doing a stellar job of hiding it.
She says something about how Bethenny damages the relationships that got her to where she is today, but then again, who wants to be reminded every single day of how much you owe someone for their help? how many times can you acknowledge someone’s help? Geez, Jill is turning into Crackie with her endless need to be thanked and appreciated. Yikes. It’s too soon to be dealing with more of that bullshit.
Jill whips out her phone and plays the infamous message that Bethenny left. It sounds a lit-tle different than Jill had been leading us to believe. First of all, the ‘get a hobby’ part? Bethenny said that in reference to some fights that Jill was starting. She also says that she paid her dues to her by telling everyone in New York and even writing it….aaaaaaaaaaaand Jill stops the message.
I don’t know about you but I might change my tune on this whole Jill/Bethenny brouhaha. It sounds as though Ms. Zarin might have blown this whole thing out of proportion, especially the melodramatic metaphor she uses to explain how she feels. She says that she carefully cultivated a ‘friendship bank account’ with The Jaw and how did she repay her? By emptying it out. She was robbed! Bethenny robbed her!!
Fucking Hell, get a life!
Whoa, did that sound eerily like the ‘love tank’ conversation between Donn and Crackie in Napa? I swear that I got shivers. Bawby better watch out. But then again, maybe he’ll get a nice new wedding ring out of the deal. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut and hook Ally up with a private jet every once in a while.
Moving on to people who have fun the normal way, by getting drunk, not hosting pathetic pity parties.
It’s Jason’s birthday and the loveboids have decided to celebrate by revisiting TenJune, the nightclub where they first met. They argue over who approached who and then jason shows off the scar where The Jaw nicked his shoulder the very first time. He found that he liked the thrill of dating a chick whose face was a lethal weapon and the rest was history.
His friends start to arrive and they are all pretty bland white collar types until a guy they refer to as ‘little John’ walks in, followed by a guy who is almost seven feet tall. Are these colleagues? Who does Jason work for?
There’s another guy there who brings up the subject of the Breeder’s cup and he sounds like a wiseguy from New Jersey. Bethenny takes this moment to make fun of the way he talks in the most obnoxious way possible. The poor guy probably isn’t used to being filmed and he looks mortified and PISSED. Oh, Bethenny, that simply isn’t DONE. At TenJune? Never at TenJune, darling. Take that kind of behaviour outside to the parking lot just like LuLu does when she spies a bartender she fancies.
She tells the guy that immitation is the sincerest form of flattery but she wasn’t really imitating him. The way she was garbling and flailing her tongue around like a drooling idiot was more eviscerating than anything else. Never mind, I take it back.
Looks like a compliment to me
Jason blows out his candles, thanks everyone for coming and says that it’s the best birthday ever! He’ll have one less friend tomorrow but it’ll be so worth it when he starts making the kind of lasting valuable friendships that Cable TV stardom attracts.
Yes, I was being sarcastic.
Hey, where’s Ramona? There has been a disappointing lack of her particular brand of crazy during this episode. I am not happy, and what do the producers give us? One stupid little three minute clip of the Singers attending a Legends of Tennis Ball and Jill mucking it up with more of that dead horse count-less comment tripe.
The acolyte of know it alls everywhere walks in the door at Cipriani right at the same time that Ramona is letting out a yelp because she sees someone she knows. The Fabric Queen uses her screech like a homing device and finds her on the crowded mezzanine.
How big is this place? I thought it was a restaurant but it looks like it’s bigger than the ballroom at The Plaza.
Hugs all around, Ramona tells Jill that she looks stunning, Bawby sucks down his highball and Mario braces himself for the onslaught. It’s pretty mild. Mario says that he shouldn’t have to apologise to LuLu because she’s said way worse behind people’s backs and besides, it’s true. She is count-less.
Ramona starts talking about how LuLu is never alone and Jill tells her not to go there. She doesn’t want her friend’s dalliances aired out in public and all I have to say is- then she shouldn’t have made such a big stink about Mario’s comment in the first place.
Yes, Mario’s an ass, we all know that. But guess what? Now everyone is talking about what a slut LuLu is and if she had let it slide nobody would give a shit! But noooo, that etiquette pontificator had to demand satisfaction like we’re living in 18th century France, and is now revealed to be a huge hypocrite and she doesn’t like it.
Boo freaking hoo! God! At first LuLu was annoying, now she’s turned into the Tiger Woods of Southampton. You’d think that she’d know a thing or two about discretion since she’s so damn European and all, but now I’m really starting to wonder exactly what percentage of tiptop-ity posh Long Island have been lured into her lavendar scented lair. If Ramona knows, probably everybody knows. Bummer. She shoulda closed her legs to hired help.
Next up is our little vignette of the week. It takes place in the Missoni boutique where Leatherface is trying on a fur vest. What a lame attempt to keep the Kelly/Bethenny war alive. It’s stupid, almost as stupid as Kelly saying that she doesn’t abuse animals, she just wears fur.
No, she doesn’t go around kicking dogs in the street, the dumbass. She only wears the pelts of furry creatures that are oftentimes skinned alive, but not cruelly, never cruelly, NOT AT MISSONI. They give them drugs before they do it, right? They give them a little kiss before they turn them inside out so it’s perfectly kosher.
She calls herself cold blooded and a “great fur wearer.” Heck, maybe she is. She sure as hell doesn’t care that her skin is slowly beginning to turn into a hide you can buy at any western outpost. Too bad there isn’t a market for that. I wouldn’t mind if someone simply had to have a KK rug to throw down in front of their fireplace.
And you can recycle those implants into nonstick cookware. Everybody wins!
I’m sorry. That was gross. Does this make up for it?
Jill found her high horse.
She sure looks comfortable up there, AND there’s even room for LuLu! Perfect.
Jill is visiting Kelly at her spacious condo. What a strange pair. They don’t fit well together at all. Jill admires her organised closet and then she gets down to the real reason that she’s there- to inform Kelly that there’s no way that she could be appearing on the 40th anniversary issue because the magazine is at least a decade older than that. Gee, how did she know that?
Kelly says yes, that she was misinformed by her agent, it was actually the 50th anniversary of the Bunny costume. Well, your agent is an idiot for putting you out there with the wrong information, says Jill.
Drop it, woman. For all you know, Leatherface made that shit up before she told you women about it because she didn’t want you to think that she’d pose for just ANY issue, only a huge anniversary spectacular. She is well aware of how you treated Alex, well aware.
Jill is just ridiculous, no? She’s passing judgement on a person she doesn’t know in an industry that she knows absolutely nothing about. Model agants are spectacular bullshitters. It’s part of their job to talk every last thing to the sky.
You got a shoot in Miami modeling Fieldcrest towels? All of a sudden your agent is on the phone with a major photographer’s assistant saying that you’ve been asked by a Saudi prince to model his custom made turbans for millions. Pretty soon you’ll be having tea with Prince Harry and showing off your engagement ring to Kate Moss and Cheryl Cole at Guy Ritchie’s pub. It’s just a matter of time, you’re so fabulous.
Anyhoo, you can’t change that, and why would you? It’s borderline hilarious. Trust me. I’ve watched it happen. I’ve had my agent blatanty lie about who I’ve worked with, only to have them kick me out of earshot when I tried to correct them. Please, if it gets you jobs? You don’t complain.
Maybe this blanket judgement is just Jill’s way of acting protective to her new friend, but aren’t you starting to see how Bethenny might have gotten sick of her meddling? During their entire conversation she barely let Kelly get a word in edgewise.
Over in Brooklyn Alex is making a pizza from scratch and Yo-Han Solo wants ketchup on his.
Daddy Simon, that big old lush (of course he is, Jill said so!) is enjoying a cocktail after a long hard day of ordering hotel maids around and perusing fetish catalogs on his lunch hour.
They talk about how they dislike being told how to parent by shrewish know-it-alls with horrifying taste in interior decor. I second their opinion. If she picked that awful wallpaper, who’s to say what else she be might capable of? How do we know that poor Ally wasn’t spoon fed communist diatribes and made to eat rat poison spiked soup in the loneliness of her preteen sick room? How do we know that there isn’t a little Munchausen by Proxy at work with Ali’s arthritic condition, hmm?
I know I’m being ridiculous but so is making judgements on someone’s parenting skills because their kids acted up at a late dinner and then ran around a fabric warehouse. Nobody likes to be pigeon-holed like that, and correct me if I’m wrong but Jill raised one daughter, not two rambunctious boys under the age of five.
They take the little one out of the room to cuddle with Frankie on the couch and watch videos. They don’t want him listening to their adult conversation which as we all know, is a harbinger of bad parenting.
Yeah, sooo badly behaved, Jill.
I love their kitchen, by the way. It is gorgeous. I’m so jealous. Ours is half that size but, BUT it used to be mandarin red like their living room so at least we have that in common. Ugh, what I wouldn’t do for a freaking island/butcher block or a stainless steel fridge.
I’ll even forego the fine joorey for a while.
Anyway, their conversation gets cattier and cattier as they trash Jill. They agree to accept other people’s foibles, it’s just that Jill’s are bigger than most and she doesn’t seem to care who knows it.
Alex has her lightbulb moment when she reiterates exactly what I said about LuLu last week, that Jill has taken her on as her new underdog and now she’s controlling her like a freaking sheep.
Once again, if you need to scare Frankie…
I hope that if she’s controlling her she makes sure she’s wearing condoms. I hear that the hired help carry lots of diseases, and nobody wants to see royalty in the bed next to them at the abortion clinic. Awk-ward.
Almost as awkward as the Jill Stuart fashion show that’s about to take place, where Jill and The Jaw will finally meet face to face.
Poor Jill. As much as I have to admit her culpability in the whole fight with Bethenny, there is no denying the fact that she is much more upset about it than she is even letting on. She and LuLu are posing for pictures when she says that she’s having a bad day and needs a drink. Then have one! It’s not going to kill you, and if memory serves me right, those fashion shows have liquor flowing backstage like Parnell’s Pub on St. Patty’s Day.
Bethenny walks in wearing yet another strapless dress that she keeps hiking up. I don’t know what she’s worried about, it’s so tight that she probably can’t breathe. Maybe it’s squeezing the flesh up and out of her top, I don’t know. I never wear that stuff. It’s kind of hard to go strapless when you are a 38D. I have to practically glue my bras on.
The Jaw’s plan for dealing with Jill is to act like a fake acquiantance and move on. That’s going to prove hard to do later, when everyone is grouped together in the front row. Damn you, Miss Andy!
She approaches the pair, air kisses and then leaves to take her seat. Jill’s face is a study in barely controlled anger and tears. It’s almost heart breaking to watch her lips tighten as she struggles with whatever turmoli is roiling within her. God, that’s exactly how my mother would look when she couldn’t slap me for being naughty in front of the ladies after church, but as soon as we got in the car, she’d let me have it.
I mean, who is she going to hide behind if Jill decides to lose it? Nobody there weighs more than a hundred pounds!
Maybe the photographers, but that’s it.
Kelly finally arrives just before the show starts and sits down next to Bethenny. Behind the back comments about wearing rose colored glasses are brought up in interviews but she barely registers Kelly’s presence. She’s too busy deflecting the gamma ray intensity of Jill’s hostility.
I am willing to bet that if you approached either of them after the show and asked them what their opinion was, or what they might buy, they wouldn’t have remembered a single item from the collection. They were too busy stewing in the rancid juices of their spoiled friendship.
I swear that I thought Jill’s mouth was going to begin bleeding from the corners, she was stretching it so tightly. It looked positively painful.
Somebody give the woman a valium, she’s gonna explode!
The show is finally over, Bethenny can’t take it any more, so she approaches Jill to tell her that she’s been hearing from everyone except HER that she’s upset with her. Jill says that she got a new hobby.
I’m not going to reiterate everything they said but I will tell you that I was completely surprised that LuLu didn’t break in and say, “Not at Jill Stuart, NEVER at Jill Stuart.” Nope, Kelly has to be the one to break them apart. I guess that the servant/master relationship between Jill and LuLu is pretty well entrenched at this point.
It’s really sad that these two can’t get past whatever happened. There are hurt feelings on both sides and neither one of them wants to hold up any kind of olive branch. Sometimes it’s best to let time do the healing, which would be possible if they would stop bashing each other all over town.
Bethenny is right about one thing, though. After Jill walks away and LuLu tries to stick her nose in it by saying that she heard the message that she left Jill, Bethenny is hella pissed that she would play a private message to someone. You would think that LuLu would have picked up on how inappropriate that was, having wrote the book on it and whatnot.
But, no. I think that she’s learning how futile it is to argue with Ms. Zarin. If you want to be her friend, if you want to be invited into her fabulous circle of cushion crafters, there is a hefty price to pay and Bethenny isn’t willing to pay it.
She needs that money for her botox.
How many more weeks will she be on this show? My guess is two or three. We get to see her call LuLu a snake next week and then the inevitable positive pregnancy test re-enactment. Then, bye bye Bethenny. It is so obvious that she wants nothing to do with these women. It’s her choice, of course. I just wouldn’t have burned so many bridges if I could help it.
Next week looks like another doozy. Ramona talks about Kelly’s boobs and I can’t wait for the “Stop, stop Ramona, just stop!” You know it’s coming. Plus, the divorce will be final and LuLu will be free to hole up in the Hamptons with the mallet weilding polo player of her choice. I’ll raise a toast to that!
Love and Kisses,