It’s over, Gasmii. The End. The original of the franchise is played out and past it’s prime. I’m a little teary (on the inside, just like Tamra) and ask myself if this show would still be as hard to watch if the bottom hadn’t fallen out of the economy. I think that I said it a couple of weeks ago but it’s worth repeating- it’s just not as enjoyable to make fun of people when they are down and truly suffering.
And the abuse! It’s in almost every frame, be it emotional, verbal or of the alcohol variety. Simon was the worst offender. Is there a 12 step program for being a prick? He needs to start attending those meetings STAT, and maybe Miss Andy can start her own Tool Academy for middle aged divorcees.But whatever. This show can still bring the DRAMA and this episode is no exception. It’s pretty much a Bravo Channel wet dream. There is even a spectacular dig on Mallard Mouth by one of Crackie’s employees! I rewound that a few times. Trust.
This episode also served as a reminder to me of a time in my life where I was really unhappy, shortly before my ex and I seperated. The fighting was awful. Something as simple as making the coffee in the morning could turn into a huge blow-up and I would get physically ill when I heard his car pull in the driveway. Thank God I am so happy now. I can honestly say that I deserve it. Plus, my ex was a lawyer so I think I’m in line for Canonization, right behind Mother Teresa.
On with the show!
We begin with our final shots of the faux Tuscan manor. Goodbye, equity-less McMansion! I hope that you are occupied by a less strident couple now, like Edward Albee’s Martha and George, filled with the sounds of clinking ice cubes and thwarted ambitions.
Tamra is getting ready for the big end of summer party that is being held at the St. Regis this year. How much you want to bet that Jeana arranged that? She can walk straight from one of her martini lunches to the party. How convenient! And it would help to be tanked for this party, no doubt about it.
It would help to be trashed when dealing with Simon’s constant insecure beratement of Tamra’s appearance as well, and it’s no accident that it’s her looks that he attacks. He knows her weaknesses and he can’t help himself.
It’s all about what dress she will wear to the party. She really wants to go in this cute backless number but knows that she’ll never hear the end of it, and he insults her by saying that it’s something that a 20 year old would wear, not a married woman. He wants her to wear this bland Nicole Miller sheath because it’s more appropriate for a 30 year old like herself.
What’s with bringing up the age all the time, and getting it wrong on purpose? Who cares? He should be proud of the fact that she can still get away with some of that stuff, but he’s not. I guess that this is what happens when your hot wife stops voluntarily giving you blow jobs and bragging about your sex life. You get pissed and passive aggressive and the little green monster starts appearing out of nowhere and at all hours of the day and night, pushing you to humiliate the one you love the most.
Poor Simon. I thought that he was smarter and cooler than the other husbands. I mean, it shouldn’t be hard with the lame assholes on this show (Donn excluded) to come out smelling like a rose. He isn’t a mooch, he doesn’t rack up DUIs like a Lohan and he doesn’t suck food out of his teeth and beat his wife, yet STILL he manages to come off like an abusive dick.
On the other end of the spectrum is Slade. He’s at his sugar mama’s washing dishes. Does Gretchen actually qualify as a sugar mama? She doesn’t appear to have a lot of money. She’s more like a Sweet n Low mama, but at least she keeps a roof over the dead beat’s head.
He must have found more of those incriminating pictures of her from the Photoglou era.
She comes home from the salon, having gotten her hair put in a curly swirly updo. It kinda looks like prom hair or something one of those child beauty pageant winners would wear, so of course Slade loves it. It’s as phony as he is.
She doesn’t look as good without all the makeup either. This is one ho that NEEDS a makeup artist on call 24-7, otherwise she starts to look a wee bit masculine. I don’t know what it is- the slightly protruding teeth or the gaunt cheeks but she looks a little like a West Virginian hill person without her usual face full of GC Beaute.
Still cuter than most of the bitches on this show, though.
Then she piles it on in front of her mirror and, Tah-Dah!
She is living proof of the girl you don’t want to look at first thing in the morning before she’s had time to put her face on. It’s such a transformation that it makes me want to see the other girls before they spackle their faces. Are they wearing as much as Gretchen? But I digress.
Slade is wearing his tux which is all dusty since nobody but Miss Andy invites him anywhere special anymore. She’s putting on what looks like a miniskirted version of a wedding dress so they are obviously dressing for attention. Let’s face facts here, if Slade wanted to get her a ring, he’d have to push over a bubble gum machine.
She interviews that she wants to marry him, she just doesn’t know when. UsWeekly doesn’t shell out the big bucks for pictures of Dlist weddings and she’s waiting to see if Miss Andy will give them their own show a la ‘Date My Ex.’ Keep dreaming, sweetheart, you’d be better off if you started dating that Kardashian boy or giving Patty Stanger a call. I’d advise the latter. More moolah, even if the guy is a jerk, but what do you care? You’re dating Slade after all.
Slade keeps giving her shit about how he might propose and she insists that she doesn’t want any surprises this year, no way. Don’t worry honey, he can’t afford to buy you a Harley or hook you up with the jewels of your choice like he did with Jo. Maybe he’s wearing the tux so he can surprise you with a super classy Candygram. I think that’s his day job now.
Back at the Blarneys, Tamra has settled on a dress that looks like a sack. She has literally put on one of the most shapeless articles of clothing that I have ever seen. Somehow it still manages to be too short for Simon. She’s all “But you said it was my tits hanging out that bothered you, now it’s my ass?!”
Simon, she doesn’t own anything that doesn’t reveal one of those body parts. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? It’s really not that bad and I have to give her props for managing to make such an ugly dress look cute with heels and a not completely weave-gone-wrong hairdo.
Oh, look. Raquel made them a family portrait.
It’s halfway down to her knees, for God’s sake, and it is certainly longer than anything old Mallard Mouth wears to church on any given Sunday. Simon compares it to another housewife by saying that it looks like something Slurry would wear. He says she should dress more appropriately for a married woman and she tells him that she’s even more inclined to wear it since he doesn’t approve. Then she mouths ‘fucking idiot,’ to the camera as he walks away.
By the way, how messy was her freaking closet? There was so much crap shoved in there that it looked like something from Hoarders. And don’t get me started on the top shelf.
Are those t-shirts or the entire remnant section from Mood?
She needs help with organising all that crap. She can barely find a spot to set down her wine, and I guess that Gretchen was right after all.
I’d be drinking too if I were her. Simon gets in one more dig about not knowing that a person could be so hurt by the truth as he walks his uptight hanging by a thread ass into their bedroom. What a prick. I hope she blows somebody’s husband in the kitchen of the St. Regis, swallows and then kisses Simon. Give him a taste of his own medicine.
The beehive in Crackietown is awakening and they all shuffle their butts into the waiting limo. Crackie’s dress is a backless (slut!) yellow satin number and Briana looks cute in a black trimmed white dress that looks just like the babydoll top I got from VS last year and wore all summer. Yes, my tits were hanging out. Mr. McSlore doesn’t mind, just as long as I let him motorboat later. Gotta earn that fine joorey, Gasmii! In this case, a pearl necklace. Zing!
It wouldn’t be Crackietown without a good dose of nagging and today it’s all about Michael wearing jeans to the party. Get over it, you live in Southern California. Have you seen what Jimbo wears to church? Your son looks perfectly fine. Now, open the Champagne and get trashed, please.
Michael does the honors and Donn asks what the Harley moment is going to be this year. Nobody cares, and why should they? They’re the only sensible people left with money that wasn’t earned by loan sharking. Go on and compare your rings, you earned them, and you didn’t charge 300% interest to people down on their luck in order to pay for them.
Crackie says that she isn’t going to put up with any more of Simon’s shit and that he’s the one who’s behind all the DRAMA this year. Great. Jeana will be very happy to hear that you finally let her off the hook.
Now get good and drunk and tell Simon to suck your dick, because we all know yours is bigger.
Another limo is picking up the Blarneys. Their driver is a big guy and Tamra jokes to him about needing his bodyguarding services later that evening since you never know when some bitch slappin’ might break out. Simon tells her to get in the car before HE bitch slaps her
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we’re off!
They bleeped out whatever she said next in the limo. The woman is pissed but she lets it slide and goes straight back to the script by turning the conversation to Crackie. And I do mean scripted. Why would she bring her up? Simon has said a million times where he stands on that issue. I have to think that she either wants to rile him up or she’s feeling guilty for the stuff she said at Slurry’s and is looking for an opportunity to take it all back by defending her.
In the end it doesn’t matter. The next part of their conversation is all about arguing over who gets to control Tamra. Is it Crackie? Is it Simon? Is it whoever gives her another diamond encrusted Rolex? I’ll go with that answer because it sure as hell ain’t Tamra. You know you’re in deep shit when you have to remind someone that you aren’t so stupid as to let someone else tell you what to do.
I don’t have to tell you that Simon brings up the same old shit all over again. “You don’t listen to me, you’re not the same person you were two years ago,”
And where did you put my dick once I stopped earning six figures?
Quick note to anyone who is even entertaining the idea of using Simon’s tactics in an argument- unless you don’t mind looking like an insecure loser that can’t get going when the going gets tough, don’t do it. He is pathetic. His biggest fear is to lose his power and be treated like Donn. He is grasping at whatever wisps of control he has left over the situation and there aren’t many to choose from.
This is the last guy that you want to have in your corner when the chips are down. He turns on people. Remember what Tamra said about how he burns bridges and cuts people out of his life over presumed slights or lapses of integrity? He didn’t talk to his own stepson for six months over some crap he said on Facebook, for Chrissakes. Dude needs to grow a pair and quit blaming everything on a woman who works ten times as hard as he does. Instead of ganging up on her, he should be asking for a job.
He tells Tamra that she doesn’t act like she’s married and when she asks for an example he brings up bowling night which she skipped to attend some RHOC function with Crackie. “You don’t think the kids are going to remember this stuff?” he says, and he just stepped over the line.
Tamra was upset when this conversation started but now the focus is off Crackie and on to her abilities as a mother. Shit just got serious because this is obviously a sore spot for her. My guess is that she feels like she failed with Ryan and feels guilty that Simon had to take on a lot of the burden with him.
Now they have three kids of their own and he lets her get away with sleeping in and not picking up the kids so that he can throw it in her face later. I seriously doubt that this guy has ever felt secure in this relationship. He married the crazy hot chick and has been using all the wrong strategies to keep her.
This is when Tamra starts to lose it. She yells that she’s with her kids every day, even if she’d rather be playing pool with bikers and when he says, “No you’re not,” she brings up what she has probably promised to keep silent about before the season even started- “If you were working and making money we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation!”
“Who am I supposed to blow for money now? Everyone at Bravo is gay!”
She could mean a couple of things by that. One- he’s at home a lot, bored and insecure, so he picks on her to let out some of that anger and frustration. Two- if they didn’t need the money so badly, they wouldn’t be on this show with her behaviour embarrassing him, followed by his friends giving him shit for it. Three- Hell-o! Bitch likes money! Who doesn’t? Get your ass out there and hustle harder or let her do it for you! With a decent joke writer she could have starred in her own sit-com. Now she’s going to have to make do with Marcos’s real estate leftovers and guest appearances on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. No wonder she’s mad.
The censors had a field day with all the swearing that comes out of her mouth next. Let’s see if I got it right; “You’re an asshole, a nasty vile person! Fuck you!”
What does he say once she loses it because he can’t help that his prickitude is showing? “You went down this route, I didn’t.” Wow. His marriage is falling apart right before his eyes and all he can come up with is that? Yay, you! You didn’t swear! You are such a better klassier passive aggressive cocksucker! WAY klassy of you to make your wife cry on the way to the nice party Miss Andy planned out so carefully.
Tamra say that she wants a divorce and starts to cry into her purse. At least I think she’s crying. She’s wearing sunglasses and looking out the window. Awww, I almost feel sorry for her. I want to help her. No one deserves this kind of pain.
Quick! Open the door and throw yourself out!
You call yourself a Bravo-lebrity? I bet Danielle from New Jersey would do it, and then find a way to blame Dina.
They arrive at the party looking like death warmed over. He stops her before they go in and says that he doesn’t want to fight anymore. He tries to hug her and she’s hanging off the side of his shoulder all dramatic and weepy.
As God is my witness, I’ll never go equity-less again!
Why so melodramatic? Sorry, but I had to laugh. Girl needs to sign up for acting classes if they have another season of this shit.
He says that if she wants to leave him that’s her choice but he wants to be with her. Gross. He’s all let’s have fun and “I love you.” He might as well be saying, “Let me ruin your night, blame it on you and then make you feel worse for not bucking up and having fun.” Pig.
And what is with him saying that things have been going so well and let’s not screw it up? He is out of his mind. Maybe they had sex for the first time in months the night before and when she didn’t bite down on his member, he assumed they were back in business.
It’s also not a good sign when you have to tell your wife to look at you half a dozen times and ask them to kiss you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have a stiletto sticking out of the side of his head right now.
She’s also not wearing her ring. She says that it’s because she wants to show off the new ‘Stimon’ umlaut-tattoo, he tells her that she needs to get her priorities straight and she gives the finger to his back before heading off to the bathroom to wipe all traces of his lips off her mouth.
I don’t know about you but that was awful. I sincerely hope that we never have to watch that kind of verbal abuse and poisonous machinations ever again. He deserves to be punished for that display. What do you think, Gasmii? Ten more years with Tamra should do it, or how about putting him and Crackie in a boxing ring together and filming it all for Pay Per View?
I would love to watch her knock him on his ass. Speaking of body parts, this is the party montage we are treated to next:
Tits a’ plenty! When did Bravo go straight?
Somebody over there likes mammaries. Maybe it’s just the cameramen.
Tamra says hi to her mom and moans in interviews that she wants to talk to someone about what just happened but is afraid of big bad Simon. That’s what barteners are for, so get over there, grab a Martini and start slobbering your sob story all over him.
Jeana arrives with Shane, and Kara’s looking cute and fun like a Skipper doll circa 1970. She’s the all-American girl next door. God, I miss her. She is everything I love about SoCal. She and Briana give the O.C. a good name. Too bad Shane’s still an ass.
Tamra interviews that she hopes that Jeana has overcome her difficulties and is leading a happier life. Once again, it sounded like she was talking about herself, and I hope she doesn’t compare herself to Mama Jeana. Please, Jeana has been through way worse that Tamra and yet she smells like a rose in comparison.
It’s Crackie’s turn to make an entrance and Simon can’t resist making a snide remark about her leading Donn around. What is that supposed to mean? Whenever Mr. McSlore and I go to parties, he always lets me lead, and he is most definitely NOT insecure. If you asked him why, he’ll probably tell you that he’s looking at my ass but the real truth is that I’m more socially demonstrative and he’s content to let me be while he talks shop and find the bar. There’s nothing wrong with that, so shut up, Simon.
Crackie actually heads over to Simon and Ricky to say hello but Donn pulls her away. When Ricky asks what that was all about, Simon says, “Character.”
Yes, Simon. Crackie and Donn are characters. You, on the other hand, have none and are a bore.
What an asshole! Trying to besmirch someone’s character when they are tying to avoid a confrontation. Moving on.
Tamra is complimenting Crackie to the sky on how fabulous she looks in her backless dress. Crackie interviews that she doesn’t trust her motives. Well, duh. Since when do you look ‘hot?’ She’s chatting you up because she feels guilty.
They head off to the bar together and the Quizzically Frozen Faced Laurie waltzes in with George Peterson (I always think of Ferris Buehler when I hear that name) and two of their failure children. What ever happened to Ashley’s make-up line? What is she doing with herself these days? Is she flitting through life waiting for her prince charming just like dear mom? I really hope that at least one of their kids finds a freaking job.
Crackie gives her shit for bailing on the show and leaving her to deal with all the new girls by herself. Are you kidding? Why should she stay when she could be busy riding horses and pretending to be a republican for her husband? Remember how she said that she didn’t know what that was? I wouldn’t be surprised if she claimed to be an anarchist scatologist, just because old Georgie said so. Oh well, she’s living the dream and skating through life with her botox and boobies and shopping trips to Europe, babe. At least she’s not still claiming to be a MILF.
Gretchen and Slade arrive to the sound of wedding bells. Not real ones, but the ones Slade blew Miss Andy to add in editing later. Everyone is wondering if they got conned into attending their wedding but soon realise that Gretchen may be a ditsy broad but she’s not dumb. Besides, she enjoys having a free maid around, wouldn’t you?
The Bellinos make their grand entrance with Mallard Mouth sporting another 70s tablecloth she stole from Mrs. Roper and then cropped off to just below her crotch. If she leans on one foot you can catch a glimpse of the Holy Land and her vaginal rejuvination scars. Jesus approved!
Jimbo seems to think that this is a fancy dress Flamenco party and Plain Penny is drugged off her ass and got her make-up done by a goth chick manning the cosmetics counter at Hot Topic. What a freak show. Miss Andy must be rubbing one out into his pink index cards right now.
Tamra jokes that they look like they’re auditioning for Dancing With the Stars and to make matters worse, Pawn Preacher’s and Slade’s outfits actually match. So, congradulations, Jimbo. You even made Slade look better than you, AND you’re a hypocrite for acting all nicey-nice to Slade when both Tamra and Ricky know that you trash him behind his back to Simon on a regular basis.
Tweedle Bum and Tweedle Douche
Guess who’s late? Slurry, of course! We should all be happy that they manage to arrive at all considering the logistics of getting two stoners and two indecisive teenagers to get their shit together. Jeana jokes that they are probably at the wrong hotel and then the limo pulls up.
Thank God there are no screen doors. We don’t need Slurry messing up that new face of hers, it’s the only collateral they have left. Everyone is trashed, including Moonie and Raquel. Why am I not surprised.
You know what WOULD shock me? If one of those trashy girls went up to Jeana or Crackie and asked for help in getting a job. I’d probably lose all track of time and space, end up at the Bellino’s church chanting “get over it,” into my bejewelled boobie top while Alexis winks at me and hikes her skirt up into her butt crack for Jesus. Jimbo will crook one of his chubby cigar stained fingers at me to come over to his pew, all is forgiven, as long as some of grandpa’s old war medals end up in the collection plate every Sunday.
That was so creepy the other week, him saying that Alexis uses her beauty to do God’s work. That sounds like something a pimp would say, just insert ‘Slickback’ where Jesus would normally go. I feel sorry for anyone that actually goes to their church and makes an effort to live a good life, only to watch those two curry favor with the minister and slip in the door halfway through the service every week. It’s disgusting.
But not to worry, they’ll get theirs eventually. Just wait until the vulgarians’ kids grow up. He’s probably going to have to start selling bail bonds when those spoiled brats become teens. It’s no big deal. It’s a tradition, just ask Laurie or Tamra.
Back at the St. Ragis, the Curtain girls come flouncing into the party, boobs a bouncin’ and strutting like they owned the place. Slurry says that it’s not her fault they were drinking on the way to the party, the limo was too long! She couldn’t see them pouring vodka into their water bottles.
It was a whole eight feet away! Sheesh!
Shane is holding court with Jim and Alexis, and they’re bragging about how Alexis can handle Crackie. Since when? I didn’t see her handling Crackie, I saw her attack her and then try to diffuse the situation by praying like a pre-schooler. (I apologize to all four year olds for that one)
Shane tells them how to deal with Crackie by shushing her. Nice. Stay klassy, pea brain. Let me know when Prop 8 gets overturned,
I’m dying to see the His and His tuxes you pick out.
Tamra’s liver is working overtime (when is it not?) and she complains to all her friends that Simon gave her shit for her short skirt. He shoots her a look and continues to be an ineffectual wuss, I mean reserved.
Two blonde bimbos collide as Laurie gives Gretchen shit for being with Slade. Bitch, please! We all know that you latched onto him when you thought he had money! Quit trying to front, and why is she acting so shocked that they’re a couple? That bitch loves to gossip, you can be sure that she already knew. She wasn’t up in her ivory tower knitting bikinis out of spun gold, she was on the horn with the other women, passing judgement from her nouveaux riche high horse.
Gretchen says that Slade told her that he and Laurie never dated. Laurie sets her straight and I am starting to wonder if Gretchen isn’t truly stupid after all. How can she believe that they never dated? Didn’t she watch the show before she signed up to be on it? Of course she did. She’s just being stubborn when she says that they are madly in love and she hopes that they marry.
Things get very uncomfortable when Laurie says that she hopes that Slade isn’t using her. In interviews, Gretchen says what she always says when she can’t back shit up- “It’s none of her business.” True, and why does she care?
She doesn’t, she just likes to laugh at the plebes from her lofty perch. You know what else? She’s proof that there is no accounting for taste with some men. Otherwise why would a tranny like her be considered even remotely attractive? It makes me think that most men in warm climates secretly want to fuck other guys, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just that she looks like somebody took one of those porcelain smiling drama masks and painted it orange.
She also passes judgement on Slurry for letting her girls run around drunk, like there’s such a huge difference between Ashley and Raquel. The only disparity I can see is that Raquel is off in a corner trying to shove Moon Units boobs back into her top while she tells her to fuck off, and Ashley’s not. She’s too busy being smug cuz Daddy Warbucks is her stepdad now.
Slade butts in and runs off to tell Frank that his girls are drunk and pissing off the staff. Slurry says that it was rude of him to embarrass Frank like that. What? It’s okay for your girls to act like teenaged Courtney Loves but whispering in Frank’s ear- that was over the top?
Frank goes over to confront the girls, grab them by the elbows and march them out to the waiting car, yelling in no uncertain terms that they are grounded for life.
I kid! He does nothing and Moonie walks away while giving him the finger.
This is going to be your best year ever!
Slurry is having her ‘Oh, those teenagers, what can you do,’ conversation with Crackie. Here’s some more truth for you, my little stoner cuff mogel. Preach it, Sister Gunvalson, preach it to the sky! She says that Slurry never made any groundwork with discipline. She should have started nagging them and camping out in their assholes in Kindergarden, but it’s too late now. The damage is done.
You’ll be lucky if they get chosen as extras on The Hills now.
The girls continue bickering because Raquel won’t let Moonie get a martini. Can’t Moonie do anything by herself? Show some gumption, girl! Quit moaning and pilfer a bottle when the bartender’s back is turned. Show some initiative and steal sips from unattended cocktails lying on the tables around you. Good Lord, she even fails at being a delinquent.
And it doesn’t count if the only people you can fool are your stoner parents. They could care less. Raquel finally gives up and walks away, leaving Slurry and Frank standing there making excuses, saying that it’s no big deal, she’ll be fine, right?
Everybody must be giving Slurry grief for not giving a shit because she finally chases after Moonie who is sitting on a golf bag rack in the parking lot crying because Raquel left her there all alone. Sluury tells her that she’ll take her home. Well then, grab her and take her home!
And, dear God! Are you pregnant?
I certainly hope not. Maybe it’s just her liver trying to break free.
Moonie says no, she doesn’t want to leave, that would be avoiding the situation and she’s sick of having that be the answer to everything. Just as quickly, she changes her mind and decides that she wants to go home. Girl is drunk and confused.
You know what’s really gross? Back inside at the party Slade is acting all outraged in front of the Pawn Preacher. They’re 15 and drunk, oh my God, what terrible parenting!
What a hypocrite! Dude, you don’t pay child support for any of the kids you have. I suggest you shut your mouth, you pathetic piece of shit. Congrats are in order too. You get to feel superior to someone for a change. Too bad she’s a 17 year old CHILD.
Get into the line in the employment office and get a fucking job, and carrying Gretchen’s purse around all day doesn’t count unless you can show me some W-2s.
Well, somebody has to fix this mess and who better than Mama Jeana and her sidekick Skipper? The ease with which they diffuse the situation is commendable. Slurry stares at Jeana like she’s her first bong hit of the day, hungry and grateful.
They joke about how Kara used to think that Jeana was the wicked witch of the west and Kara tells her to keep her chin up because confident girls are prettier. She tells her that her happiness doesn’t have to depend on her sister and asks if she wants to meet Shane’s hot friend. Moon Unit perks right up and together they strut back into the party. Man, could Moonie use a good influence in her life like Kara.
Too bad she’s too busy WORKING AND GOING TO SCHOOL.
Here’s something those Curtain girls could chew on for a while. When I grew up it was completely unacceptable for you to not go to college. You had which university you were going to attend figured out before you graduated high school, not to mention your summer job. While earning your degree, you did work/study if you weren’t old enough to bartend and on Christmas vacation you went back to your summer retail job and worked the holiday rush. Anything else was frowned upon, not just by your parents who weren’t about to let you freeload, but by your FRIENDS.
I would have loved to see my friends’ faces if I told them that I didn’t have a job lined up. How was I going to pay for gas? Beer? Shoes? Why in the hell would I sit on my ass instead of earning a new discounted wardrobe at Express? They would have needled me to death and then marched my butt to the mall to pick up applications.
And one more thing- the calls to go out and do stuff would have stopped coming because nobody wants to go away to their parent’s beach house in North Carolina with a mooch for a friend. You want someone who can pay their own way at putt-putt and buy their own seashell print bikinis at the cheap touristy t-shirt shops. End of story.
So, no Slurry. Your daughters aren’t little rebels. They are spoiled lazy brats with no ambition. Compared to them even old Rapey Eyes looks like he has a good work ethic.
HIS mom is admiring Plain Penny’s new face. She doesn’t look much different to me, a little more surprised perhaps. She should be wearing soft colors though, not morgue makeup from Universal Studios’ House of Horrors. Oh well, what does she care. She’s riding the Slurry perc train. If Moon Unit really wants to get high she should just rifle though her purse.
Tamra shows as little self control with the compliments as she did with Crackie, telling Perc’d up Penny that her face is going to keep getting better and better just like her dear old mom, Pencil Brows. She even tells Penny and Alexis that they have such fabulous bodies that they should walk around naked all day long. They eat it UP. Wouldn’t your average woman with strong Christian values be a little uncomfortable with all this focus on the external? Wouldn’t she want to be complimented on her good works, not her good looks?
Bah, who am I kidding.
They actually turned plain Penny into The Joker.
Shane has settled down into a mellow mood. Several free cocktails will do that to a gay, I mean guy. He’s telling Mama Jeana that he’s enjoying this soiree more than the ones he’s attended in the past. Jeana tells him that it’s because he’s matured and he says that he’s just able to tolerate everyone because he’s not around as much anymore. Jeana is writing her own screengrab captions these days, so I’ll just let her do it:
“You get it as you get older. Look how many years it’s taken me to tolerate you.”
He nods and kinda shrugs. What a difference a year makes.
Gosh, I love her. I want to giggle as I jab her in the ribs with my elbow, then trash all the other girls while sharing a fudge sundae with all our gay besties.
Meanwhile, Tamra is so desperate to talk to someone she’s even telling Frank that her relationship sucks, and Nugget’s Daddy is passing out business cards and bragging about his product being added to some lame juice bar. He passes out his phone number to a couple of women.
Bitch, I hope you carry mace.
Briana is being a good sister and brags to Ashley about how much money Michael is making working for Crackie. Ashley says that she never thought that he would be working for his mother. Please, he’s not stupid. The woman is probably sending all the good clients his way so she looks good by proxy.
You have to hand it to Crackie. She wanted one of her kids to follow her into the family insurance business and she got exactly that, from the kid that she embarrasses the most. He still lives at home too. She can’t be that bad, but then again she’s gone a lot.
Alexis walks her drunk ass up to the table to bestow more blessings on briana and gets introduced to Michael. Crackie is THRILLED. It’s okay, though. One of her little sycophant assistants whispers in her ear that Alexis needs a nose job BAD. Hahahahaha! All that talk of plastic surgery and you forgot to fix your honker. I cannot wait until she sees this and books that rhinoplasty in record time. Hilarious.
And Crackie is right again. She doesn’t stoop to insulting Mallard Mouth’s looks, how could she with that snout? Instead she says that she needs a “personality job cuz she’s a bitch.” I wouldn’t say it’s because she’s a bitch, though. It’s more because she’s a vapid shell of a woman who wears nasty handkerchiefs as dresses and needs her husband’s permission to wipe her own ass.
And why do she and the Pawn Preacher have a therapist? I thought that they were the perfect couple who got all their little mallards in a row before they even got married. I guess not because she interviews that she’s been trying to get Tamra and Simon to see theirs all year long.
It’s a little late for that now. Simon keeps calling Tamra’s name to get her attention and she turns her head away, ignoring him and chatting with Gretchen. He sits down next to her on the cement wall as she shows Gretchen the Srixon tattoo. Seriously, what the fuck does that thing really say?
Satan? Sputum? Semen? Your guess is as good as mine.
You want to hear a really cute story? When Tamra got the tattoo in honor of her one true love, what else did Simon say besides ‘that’s the most unselfish thing you’ve done in a long time?’ He added to his underhanded compliment by commenting that the script was off center. Dude. Maybe you SHOULD be single.
You not only don’t have game, every time you open your mouth, God kills a feminist.
Gretchen interviews that she thought the tattoo wasn’t real because their marriage is so obviously in the shitter and then she says that they should be in therapy, not getting each other’s name inked on their ring finger. Yay, yet another un-self aware dumbass. Don’t throw rocks at crass houses, not when your chocolate is dipping in Slade Slimey’s peanut butter.
Or is it?
Let’s do an office pool.
The series is over. All interest is starting to focus on the New York hoes. The chances that pictures of Gretchen and Slimeball are going to fetch any money or interest is going to dwindle drastically before drying up altogether. And as soon as Miss Andy informs her that the O.C. version is cancelled, she’ll be on the prowl in record time, probably before New Jersey is back on the air. She’s going to have to resort to the Robertson Blvd Phoebe Price stroll if she wants attention. That or seduce Simon. Now, that’s something I would love to see.
Anyway, how long before Slimey gets the old heave-ho? Soon, I bet. Hopefully by summer Alexis has introduced her to some of the moneybags at her church. She needs a wealthy backer for that makeup line of hers so that we Gasmii can draw moustaches on her posters in J.C. Penneys.
Shhh. I won’t tell if you don’t tell.
Back at the tattoo summit, Gretchen says, “So everything’s fine then,” and Tamra pulls her inner ‘truck driver with tits’ out and says, “Yeah, we either get divorced or I become a widow.” Then she leaves Simon sitting there and goes off to find Crackie.
SHE’S having a lovely little gigglefest with Laurie. They are having a good old time making fun of Slade until Tamra ruins it by crooking her little finger at Crackie and dragging her to the firepit for a Simon Hate-a-Thon.
“My life sucks and we’re headed for divorce.” No way! How did that happen? They carry on the usual conversation and Tamra wants to make sure that Crackie knows that she’s always stood up for her when Simon blames her for their problems. Uh, not exactly.
Then she pays her a really underhanded compliment by saying that she’s a good person whose good qualities outweigh the bad. Um, thanks? They talk more about not letting a man control your destiny and then Tamra says, “you know how much I love you,” and Crackie says that no, she doesn’t, actually.
“You have to tell me every minute of every day! Don’t you watch your own show?!?”
Bla, blah, blah blah, Simon is an asshole, cocktails make the pain go away, Simon’s a big weenie, where is that damn bartender and can I get a woo-hoo? This is getting so boring. I don’t need to hear the same argument over and over and over until my ears start to bleed. Plus, how the hell am I supposed to believe that Tamra the Troll is really crying? Help me out here- does botox hinder the operation of your tear ducts? Shouldn’t the utter misery and distress that Tamra is facing exhibit itself in mascara running down her face, because I am just not seeing it.
Meanwhile, Jeana is completely taking the piss out of Simon by telling him that she heard that he and Tamra are getting along a lot better these days. He’s not listening to her because he’s a chauvenist dick, so she keeps it up by saying that one person always has to be subserviant and say “Yes, dear,” to the other like they were an emotionally retarded child. Whoa………. that describes Simon to a ‘T’! Too bad he automatically tunes out women who aren’t servicing him in some way, especially if they’re middle aged.
Kara jokes about stripping to pay for college to that weird Latin chick, Francesca. Who is this woman and why is she kissing everyone’s ass? Does she think that she has a shot at replacing Crackie or something? Whatever. If you skipped this episode, I’ll describe her for you. Her skin has the same consistancy as the boots Mr. McSlore uses when he’s cleaning the pond and she’s giving out free dance lessons in exchange for airtime.
Here’s another classic moment for all of us to enjoy and relive whenever we want a really good laugh- Slurry is telling Crackie’s assistant John that if it wasn’t for her burgeoning stoner cuff empire, they’d be out on the street right now. Um, you kinda are out on the street, doncha think?
Jim is on the other side of the patio trying to recruit one of the Lord’s lost sheep, Frank. He lures the stoner to his church by promising him Krispy Kreme donuts. How very Machiavellian of him. Everyone knows that a doobie sucker in the throes of hardcore munchies cannot withstand the delicious temptation of those devilishly good treats! You win for now, good sir.
Just hide the communion wine if he brings Slurry.
Poor pastor Jentezen is going to be so disappointed when he welcomes his new parishoners wholeheartedly, only to find a clearance model cuff in the collection plate. Bummer, man.
This finale just keeps getting weirder and Crackie continues to make sense. She tells Tamra that everybody is wrong sometimes, even herself and Simon. Having it pointed out to you can make you a better person. Not if you’re Simon. He’s never wrong, big dummy.
She also says that she would never allow Donn to speak to Tamra the way that Simon speaks to her. Well, duh. You can’t compare Donn to Simon! They are nothing alike. You might as well compare him to Jimbo.
Tamra says that Simon isn’t mad at Crackie, he’s just acting out because they are best girlfriends and he knows that Tamra is slipping out of his grasp and into the clutches of Bella Abzug and Gloria Steinem and all the other feminazis out there.
Why? Because she’s writing a feminist diatribe on the evil that men do? Nope, because she wants to sell real estate. You’d think she was letting her legs go hairy and smoking cigars with Women’s Studies professors at Berkely or something. What a loser.
He’s really acting like an ineffectual sadsack right now, complaining to some random gal that his wife is ignoring him. I am serioiusly running out of words to describe what a crummy pathetic loser he has become. I’m going to have to break out the thesaurus any minute now.
Tamra is telling Crackie how scared she is of Simon while he is busy asking Ricky why he should cut Tamra any slack because “What does she ever do for me?” Geez, you would think that two people that are so incredibly selfish would be perfect for each other. Only when they’re rich, apparantly.
Tamra is audibly crying on Crackie’s shoulder now. Still, no salty salty tears are visible. Get McGruff the crime dog on the case, the mystery of the missing tears is getting serious now.
Someone tells Simon that his chattel is sobbing and he runs over to ask why she’s so upset. Not because he cares but because he’s afraid that she told Crackie what happened in the limousine.
She lies and says that she’s crying because she just wants them to get along. He hugs her while Crackie shakes her head. What a bunch of bullshit. If she’s really so fucking scared of him then why is she making a big scene at a party with a camera in her face? Pfft.
We’re back to the ‘look at me, look at me’s’ and he tries to get her to leave Crackie’s presence by saying that being there is obviously upsetting her and she should go with him. She refuses and he stomps away and off of my TV screen forever, the sound of his footsteps as hollow and feeble as his pitiably useless life. So sad.
Hahahahaha, sooooo sad! Finally, those consequences that he never had to face when he could afford to buy his wife’s silence rear their ugly head. Nobody likes a passive aggressive man who gets emasculated if he’s in the vicinity of a more successful woman like Crackie. She might as well be carrying his balls around on a mason jar.
So, congratulations, my boy! You made your worst fears come true! She wins!
The sun is setting, both literally and figuratively, and I hear the music that always plays when it’s time to slam the door shut on another season of triflin’ hoes.
Mallard and Plain Penny are posing with a monkey in the middle and old Duck Lips is voice overing her promise to strive to be a better person by putting her foot in her mouth when she speaks her mind. Have fun keeping the botox industry alive and wiping the greaseball’s spooge from the corners of your mouth,
oh, and don’t forget that nose job!
Everyone must have run out of crap to pawn if he’s letting her get paid to stick to chairs at the plastic surgeon’s office. At least he won’t have to pay full price for her next boob job.
Gretchen says that the haters can keep hating, she’s going to keep sticking with losers
who at least have the good sense not to father any more children.
Crackie woo-hoos about her business and family getting her through this challenging year.
Being away at exotic locations half the time didn’t hurt either.
Briana teases Ashley because Slade was eyeing her and I am happy to report that
Briana moved out of the Crackhouse!
Halleluja! She just improved her chances of leading a sane life a hundred percent!
Slurry is still living beyond her means and smoking up everything green in her beloved Orange County. Frank has joined her in shilling stoner cuffs because at the end of the day, it’s what he’s always wanted to do.
Plus, they kinda took his business license away.
I would love to see what this ‘affordable condo’ looks like. Do you think that Raquel and Moon Unit have to share a room now? Sounds fun. Nothing else has changed.
All dressed up with nowhere to go and no way to get there.
Nugget’s Daddy got laid off when they found him trying to impregnate one of his juice boxes. Now he has high hopes of becoming a fitness/trainer/locker room rapist.
Don’t drop the soap at Bally’s, ladies!
Tamra is living the good life, single and fabulous at 42 in a two bedroom apartment with three kids.
And still closet drinking, I’m willing to bet.
Simon cries himself to sleep in Matt Keough’s arms down at the Motel 6 where they share a case of Milwaukee’s Best when the Don Julio runs out. They have formed their own chapter of the Orange County He-Man Woman Haters Club. If you are interested, they hold their meetings in one of Jeana’s empty houses in Coto, spilling their manly tears on the floor and cursing random ground balls and Eve Ensler.
So, goodbye O.C. bitches! May you live long and prosper. May your girls marry well and your boys move out of your houses one day. I wish you the best and look forward to those inevitable guest appearances on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. And please, please don’t make me puke at the reunion, I just got a new bejewelled boobie top and I don’t want to get anything on it unless it earns me more fine joorey.
Love and Kisses,