Real Housewives of Orange County: The Evolution Of A Stalker

Dear Gasmii,

I’m so excited. I totally enjoyed watching the Orange County housewives this week. A little less Lauri, a little more Jeana, and enough Tamra and Simon to offset Vicki and Donn. All in all, a great recipe for an awesome Housewife cake. No, I haven’t forgotten about Gretchen.

I just don’t want to disturb the undead.

This is definitely a wine and crackers week, so yank out those corks and take the jump…

We start this week with Tamra and her awesome hubby, Simon, packing for their romantic tenth anniversary trip to NAPA. So, have the Real Housewife producers arranged for a big time romantic getaway for two? Not quite. And, holy cow, are the producers going to owe these two big time. After all, what could be more romantic than celebrating your anniversary with your loving spouse and the local crack whore.

Soon to be featured on Jerry Springer.

Anyhoo, Tamra is trying to solve the perpetual life problem of how to fit 20 pairs of shoes into just two teensy weensy bags, along with all of her other clothes. Simon may be close to a perfect husband, but he’s still a straight man with a straight man’s conception of what constitutes a necessary suitcase size. Seriously, you can never have too many shoes. On vacation, I can count on changing my shoes at least four or five times during the day. Besides, for this particular getaway, I’d be packing some heavy fire power as well; just for the off chance that Vicki sprains her ankle and needs to be put out her of her misery. In the course of packing, Tamra mentions that she’s married to her stylist, but I can’t help thinking that it’s time that they have a little heart to heart chat.

It might be time to find a stylist that doesn’t let his clients go in front of a camera looking like a head of lettuce.

We leave our happy couple to take a trip over to the local crackhouse, where a little gift of poo has been lovingly deposited on the Gunvalson’s living room rug. Happily, it was the visiting pooch that left this little present and not Vicki, but, really, how big a stretch would it be to think that it could have happened? It turns out that Michael’s girlfriend, who technically owns the dog, is also staying in the house for the summer.

Hot dang, I don’t remember his girlfriend being this pretty.

But, back to the poo, Vicki is, of course, screeching for Michael’s girlfriend, Lauren. And, for once, I have some sympathy for her. I’m totally a little dog person, but I hate it when “guests” bring over dogs that pee and poop. And when the “guests” are completely relaxed about canine waste in the house it drives me nuts. “Oh, dear, (giggle) whiddle Princess had an accident (giggle, giggle), she’s so cute.” Blow my friggin brains out. But Vicky’s so fucking incoherent about the situation that she barely makes any sense.

“OMG, there’s a fly on it…where are you going to put it…use vinegar, the red stuff, fabreeze…I’ve got to pack…who took my drugs!!”

Too stressed to cope, Vicki retreats to her bedroom to sneak another hit and finish packing for the trip to NAPA. But, God damn it, she’s not bringing any weird negligee shit because she already has her babies. And, even though I’m kind of shocked to see such a devout Christian as Vicki swearing on TV, I’m even more relieved that I don’t have to see her in sexy lingerie because that would mean having to take a blow torch to my retinas.

My girl Jeana is still redecorating her house, and as far as I’m concerned she’s totally right about spending big bucks on the bedroom. No matter what the rest of the house looks like, a girl’s gotta have some luxury in the bed and bath. Jeana’s designer is bringing a new ‘gay best friend’ with her to deal with the issue of Jeana’s bed. But Jeana’s thinking a few steps beyond the making of her bed when she answers the door and is all like, ‘did you bring me anything beautiful to put in it?’ LOL, Jeana so deserves a hot guy. Sadly, the GBF only has sheets with him, but they’re not any old sheets; he’s got 600 ply sheets woven in Italy. Sigh, I bet they feel like silk.

I’m sure there’s a few guys out there who are picturing themselves in this bed.

Cara interviews that the two things her mother does when she’s not happy are exercising and redoing the house. And what exactly is the problem here, Cara? Seriously, there’s only so many packages of frozen cookie dough that a woman can eat in times of stress. Let Vicki pack her crack pipe off to Greece, Jeana’s going to take her vacation in her bedroom, and I totally hope she finds her own private cabana boy to spoil her.

After issuing fervent hopes that she’ll find happiness amidst her new sheets, Jeana goes to lunch with Uncle Ritchie and Cara. It seems that before Cara left the gates of Coto de Caza to venture forth into the world, she had held the fond belief that liberals only existed in fairy tales to frighten little children. Imagine the trauma and horror of finding herself surrounded by what she describes as an entire population of liberals still stuck in the sixties and possibly still high from the sixties.

But, mom, you don’t understand. They voted for Obama!!!

Uncle Ritchie, being a practical soul, even if he should really drop the “Uncle” from his name, points out that Cara needs some work experience. In fact, Cara’s been offered several exciting internships. But, she seems to be a little confused on the value of a position. Maybe they don’t get MTV inside of the golden gates, because any other teenager in her position would see an internship for what it really is; a golden opportunity to launch her own reality show. Come on, Cara, you must of heard of Lauren Conrad by now.

Jeana explains that Cara has strong principles about not working unless she’s going to get paid. Sadly, for Cara, her principles are totally ruling out a bright career as a recapper for the Gasm, and I’m telling you life doesn’t get any better than working for Flipit. However, Cara’s got loftier goals. She wants to follow the noble tradition of doing nothing, so she’s going to try for that route.

The convo turns from Cara’s ambitious career plans, to Jeana’s search for somebody to share her 600 ply Italian sheets. Jeana compares her first two husbands to a Corvette and a Porsche, but now she’s looking for a gentler model who will treasure her and not yell at her. You go, lady. You totally deserve not to be yelled at. But, I’ve got to ask whether she’s comparing her drunken, jailbird, ex-husband Matt to the Corvette or the Porsche? Because, I’m picturing a slightly different model when it comes to him.

Named the Yugo, because it doesn’t go and neither does Matt.

Jeana has a really different view of Matt. I can’t help wondering if she hasn’t been hypnotized, or if she’s got some weird sub-category of Stockholm syndrome, when she explains that it’s hard for her to look for new men because she’s used to a perfect body and a guy who’s great in bed.

Seriously? Because the thought of this guy touching me makes me want to soak in gasoline before I light my skin on fire.

Uncle Ritchie is as shocked as I am, and demands to know who she’s talking about. I have a fleeting desperate hope that Jeana’s joking, but no, with a completely straight face she answers, “My husband, there’s a reason why I stayed with him.”

Moving on to a woman who’s above caring about mundane male attributes like a perfect body and sexual prowess, we catch up with Gretchen and Jeff at the Indy 500. Gretchen is asking about the whereabouts of Danica Patrick. Nothing like woman solidarity, but from Jeff’s expression I’m guessing that he share’s the general opinion of Danica as a woman who’s getting more mileage out of her pretty face than her racing abilities. That being said, I can totally see where Gretchen would feel a connection to the racing diva.

Jeff has made his fortune in the car racing world and as a result is seriously connected. Or, as Gretchen puts it “he knows all the high falutin people out there.” If they do a remake of the Beverly Hillbillies, Gretchen’s going to be a shoe-in for the role of Elly May Clampett.

As a special treat, Gretchen gets to take a ride in the pace car going at full speed, with a camerman in the back to capture every one of her colloquial outbursts of excitment. The driver seems to have been sane enough not to have signed a release form and his face is blurred out, which is too bad, because I’d have loved to have seen his expression every time Gretchen shreaked out “bejeezers”, “Oh, my gosh”, and “there’s a wall right there! Do you see the wall!?!” You know, he must have been weighing the odds of surviving a crash at least once or twice during the ride. But, sadly, no, the car pulls to a stop with Gretchen and her baby voice intact enough to thank him.

Wow, it was like sooo amazing when you bounced off that wall and I didn’t get hurt or anything, and then you said that really bad word, but I won’t tell daddy, I mean Jeff, and thank you sooo much. It was really, really, fun.

For Gretchen, the Indy 500 just reaffirms all of her reasons for loving Jeff. After all, she’s never been with someone that has the connections that Jeff has, whether it’s the Pistons, or the Super Bowl, or the Indy 500. Romance with Jeff is just great. On the other hand, Jeff is looking like the tail wind off one of those cars might knock him over.

While I pour out another glass of wine, the editors take us to Tamra and Simon, plus two, heading out to go wine tasting in NAPA. I’m all about sharing the experience, so I’ve got a few bottles of wine lined up to sample as well. Apparently, Tamra has watched enough TMZ to be aware of the dangers that await damsels entering or exiting limos in front of cameras, because I hear her make a definite reference to crotch shots. But, before we can get an inevitably blurred out shot of the ladies non-FCC approved areas, our view is blocked by Donn’s back. I’m going to assume that when he says “we’re good”, he’s admiring the view for us. On the other hand, the editors have got to be ticked that they were denied such a golden advertising shot.

Vicki hasn’t looked in a mirror for a few decades, and she’s worried about being carded. Strangely enough, she’s not worried about Donn leaving her, which I’m guessing would be the likelier occurrence out of the two possibilities. But Vicki’s not worried because she’s got her own money, thank you very much. Hey-Ho, Donny Boy, pull that limo over and run for your life. It would be so awesome to see Donn sprinting down the road toward freedom. But, instead, Vicki and Donn remind each other that they’re supposed to be getting along this weekend. Whew, check that sucker off the list. Awesome Simon, who is looking pretty cute this morning, seems a little surprised that Vicki has a checkbox for getting along with her husband. Clearly, Simon hasn’t paid a lot of attention to the past seasons of the show. To some people life is all about love, happiness, and warm furry puppies, but to Vicki life is all about checklists, and making sure that she can reach her dealer whenever she needs to.

Can you hear me now?

The contrast between between the two couples really points out how nice Simon and Tamra are together, and how completely sadistic the Real Housewife producers are to dump dysfunctional Vicki and Donn on them for their anniversary. It’s like having to babysit your sister’s nightmare teenager who just ran away from rehab. On the other hand, it’s a lovely day out and handsome Ivo is there to give them a tour of a vineyard. Enamored by all things alcoholic, Vicki is fascinated by the information. Up till now, she thought that grapes grew on trees, like money, and all you had to do was put them in the ground, with some fertilizer and some water, and presto instant inebriation.

Vicki sees some brightly colored chickens and roosters and, before anybody can grab her, bolts toward them. Before she can start yanking on their tail feathers, Tamra manages to distract her by suggesting that she crows with them instead. There’s nothing more attractive than a middle-aged woman crowing in harmony with a rooster.

Someday, Donn will finally leave her and this will be Vicki’s picture on Match.com

Back at Jeana’s house, her personal trainer has come over to work on all things healthy in her life. The trainer explains that he’s a little frustrated by Jeana’s lack of progress. OMFG, I am so sick of Jeana being talked about like she’s some out-of-control, fat, cow who’s in need of serious help. She’s an attractive woman with a decent figure, who, if she wanted to, could lose a few pounds. And, if she doesn’t want to, still looks great. On top of that, she’s dealing with the end of a difficult marriage, putting one child through college, another through private school and earning a decent living. She’s hardly the living disaster that her self-righteous, condescending, trainer twit is making her sound like.

I think it’s time to get off the ‘Jeana needs work’ bus, and on to the ‘damn, that woman has a great ass’ bus.

I think Jeana just needs to make a clean sweep and get rid of everybody that doesn’t respect her. Starting with her legally separated, scumbag, spouse in the house, which totally sounds like a Dr. Seuss special for adults. Because he’s a massive jerkward, ex-husband, Matt, is verbally sabotaging Jeana’s exercise program by coming out with such gems as, “What a waste. You’re just going to go eat a pizza later.” Jeana darling, you don’t have to take this dickwad’s abuse. There are a whole lot of us out here who are hoping to see you bitch smack your ex down to the corner to wait out with the trash.

Jeana says that she uses food as comfort, which I can totally relate to. Being Jewish, I was raised to use food for everything including comfort. Dieting was always something to start tomorrow because, who knows, today you could be hit by a bus. And, then, not eating that second knish would have been a total waste. Jeana’s trainer gets all profound and tells her that he has a feeling that it’s been a challenge “to release” the weight because of things she’s holding in her head. I’m sorry but that makes it sound like she’s totally constipated and just needs to have really big bowel movement. Besides, I don’t think it’s what she’s holding in her head, I think it’s more to do with that skank ex-husband roaming around her house like a festering ghost from her past.

Meanwhile, John, her self-righteous, spiritually smug, personal trainer is making Cara promise that she will help support her mom, push her appropriately, and give her positive feedback. At least until he hears about Jeana wanting to order a pizza for an appetizer, then he totally jumps on the berate Jeana train. That is until Jeana starts sounding a little stressed, then he drops his tail between his legs and dribbles a little submissive urine as he anxiously asks Jeana if he pissed her off. After all, trainer boy, wouldn’t want to lose his free advertising camera time.

I can be nicer. I’ll be nicer. Do you want me to be nicer?

We’re almost halfway through this week’s episode, so it’s about time we have a segment with our medical miracle of botox and plastic. Actually, this segment is more about Lauri’s daughter, Ashley and George’s daughter, McKenzie, who are on their happy way to get hair extensions. Lauri makes a little snide remark that it’s convenient for them to go together because the same person is paying for both of them, that person being her. However, I’m betting that, if she looked a little closer at her finances, she’d find that the money didn’t magically materialize in her bank account because she’s such an awesome person. On the other hand, why live in reality when you can afford not to.

With only a minimal amount of prompting from a production assistant, the hairdresser asks if Ashley and McKenzie are BFF. McKenzie takes a crack at explaining that their parents met and got married after two weeks of knowing each other. LOL. After all, there’s nothing like the bond of dysfunctional parents to bring people together. After a moment, McKenzie relents she and admits that it was really more like four months from the time they met until Lauri and George got married. Of course, this casts the whole relationship in an entirely new light of mature and responsible decisions.

But it’s not like they took their honeymoon right away.

Then it gets a little sad. The hairdresser asks if there are any boys in the house and the girls explain that it’s just girls because both of their brothers got sent away. We know about Lauri’s kid, Josh, and his drug issues, his shacking up with George’s ex-wife, and his arrest, but George’s son has been pretty absent on the housewife scene. From what I can gather, George has a 16 year old son who comprehensively despises both him and his marriage to Lauri. But, I digress. Clearly, we’re supposed to be following Ashley down memory lane to her time with her brother in the townhouse, and his downward spiral into heroin addiction, followed by a plaintive, “I miss my brother.” Well, darling, I’m guessing that he’s missing you, as well, from his jail cell. My sympathies are firmly with Josh. Not that I in any way condone drug abuse or illegal behavior, but recovery is tough enough without being “outed” as a convicted felon/addict to the entire world via your mother’s reality TV show.

Note to Lauri: The camerman is not a counselor and the audience watching you is made up of strangers.

Back in NAPA, our romantic foursome are learning the proper way to taste wine. In case they hadn’t realized it before, a helpful Ivo explains that there are many pleasures in wine. First, the visual, then the smell, and, finally, the taste. To properly savor the taste of the wine it is necessary to slurp. I hate slurping noises more than fingernails on a blackboard. So, when Tamra says that hearing Vicki, Donn and Simon slurp in her ears made her want to jump out of her skin, I completely sympathize. I wasn’t sure that Vicki could get any worse, but a drunken, slurping Vicki would be way beyond what any one person should be expected to put up with. Totally not on board with the ‘take a sip and dump the rest’ ritual of wine tasting, Tamra’s wishing for a doggie bag. And, really, why waste good wine? Of course, I’m not sure I can get on board with Vicki’s suggestion that Tamra steal the the dump bucket, because thats kind of like mixing everybody’s backwash leftovers together, and eeewwwww.

What’s a little wine tasting tour without a chance to stomp some grapes. Vicki’s wearing a white sundress, with an asymmetric hemline that’s higher in the back by several inches, and it’s driving me nuts. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or if it’s her ass jacking it up. Either way, it’s not a good look. Tamra and Vicki are the first two in the bucket. Not content with simply stomping, Vicki’s gotta go for a little sexual assault and makes a grab for Tamra’s breasts. This just keeps getting worse and worse. First, we’re being asked to watch a drunken, slurping, Vicki, and, now, a drunken, slurping, horny, Vicki.

Note to Vicki: I don’t care how much you grope Tamra, you still don’t get to call in gay to work.

The only one of the foursome who doesn’t want to feel slimy pieces of grape squelching between his bare toes is Donn, and he’s not getting in even if Simon soaks him with a hose. But, even if Simon can’t get Donn to dip his footsies into the bucket, he manages to get in a good zinger when he tells Donn that at least Tamra knows when Simon’s in. Score Simon, but probably not what he wants to be saying in front of Vicki. Vicki’s never one to sit back and accept it when she sees somebody with a bigger and better model of anything that she owns. She’s already made a grab for Tamra’s luxury model breasts. I bet five bucks that she’ll be grabbing for Simon’s possibly super-sized wiener as soon as they’re back in the car.

Time to switch housewives again, and I hear can hear the voice of an over stimulated child yelling, “Pick me! Pick me!” So, I know we’re back with Gretchen and Jeff. Lo and behold, they’re in their car being driven, with a full police escort, to the race. I haven’t figured out what Gretchen wanted to be picked for, but it doesn’t matter since she’s so totally on board with the full royalty treatment. Especially, when they make the plebian masses stop and wait, while Jeff and Gretchen’s car drives around them and Gretchen sticks her tongue out at the foolish people sitting in a four hour traffic jam.

At the track, Gretchen is super excited because this is race day, and daddy Jeff is carrying his little princess’ bag. As Jeff and his buddies meet and greet, it’s kind of heartwarming to see what a warm, outgoing person Gretchen is. She’s truly spreads her love around to every driver that wanders by. And, more importantly, it’s an equal opportunity love for all race car drivers, because she doesn’t give a damn if she knows them or not. If they seem nice, or even glance in her general direction, she’s going in for a hug and a kiss.

Wow, you’re not even that old.

Gretchen’s not too worried about Jeff’s disapproval of her free and loving ways. Because Gretchen is a girl that knows her own worth, as a trophy on Jeff’s arm. She explains that he just loves the fact that everybody is looking at his girl, which is of course a nice bonus, while it lasts. I’m thinking Gretchen might want to work on developing a few other assets for the inevitable time when not even botox and plastic surgery can hold off the aging process.

Jeff snags a little camera time and talks about his role at the Indy pre-race show, which is kind of cool, and more than a little sad. Meanwhile, Gretchen has realized that she’s in the best position ever; standing in front of an audience of thousands of people. Thrilled to have such huge turnout and never one to miss an opportunity, she does a little bootie dance.

OMG, you gave me my very own audience. I love you so much.

I should mention that, after her little pre-race exhibition, it does occur to Gretchen to ask the very sick man that she’s with how he’s doing. After all, I wouldn’t want anyone to think that she’s completely self-centered.

Tamra and Simon have managed to survive their wine tasting tour relatively unmolested and have retired to the safety of their hotel room to ready themselves for dinner. Or, at least, that’s what we’re supposed to believe Simon supposes Tamra to be doing. But, surprise, surprise, Tamra and the crew of cameramen are readying themselves for some ten-year-anniversary hoochie coochie. Anybody else think that Simon is totally worth spicing things up for? Seriously, given a choice between meeting Donn and Vicki for dinner and rolling around with Simon, I’m thinking that Tamra’s absolutely going in the right direction. She’s pretty cute when she comes out in what may be the most conservative sexy lingerie ever.

Call me, Tamra warrior princess!!

You can tell she’s a little embarrassed and Simon’s a little uncomfortable, because, unless you’re used to making homemade porn, who does this kind of thing with a camera crew standing a few feet away. Tamra looks even more embarrassed when she hands him his surprise ‘toys’ to “spice things up, babe.” But you’ve got to give the cameramen credit, they’re willing to work with what they can get. Hello, Simon’s crotch.

You know, Vicki has this shot blown up and pasted on the ceiling above her bed.

The camera crew displays unusual tact and leaves the couple to “seal the deal” and finish dressing before meeting Donn and Vicki. Which they manage to do in a reasonable space of time because, after ten years, they’ve got that thing down. Anyhoo, I’m a little relieved that Simon changed out of his jeans, since this is a nice restaurant. Tamra’s even a little nervous because the restaurant is fancier than the ones she usually goes to. You know, I can’t help thinking that Tamra and Simon are just nice, regular people who wandered into this show by accident. Thank God they did because, along with Jeana, they may be this season’s saving grace.

Watching these four try to negotiate the menu and its choices, it’s painfully clear that not one of them is going to be a guest judge on Top Chef any time soon. Not to mention that at least half the food groups are ruled out for some reason or another between the four of them. Come on, folks, you’re supposed to be our vicarious glimpse into a life of luxury and haute cuisine, not the life of visiting a regular big box restaurant. I’ve gotta love Vicki’s elegant manner when she declines the oysters.

“I don’t want to vomit all over you.”

Always a delightful dinner companion, when she’s not threatening to vomit on the other people in her party, Vicky casually explains that her husband, Donn, is an alcoholic. Then she subtly drops her napkin and ducks under the table to take quick hit off her handy dandy pipe.

You’ve got to give Simon massive credit for doing his best to salvage a pleasant anniversary dinner out of this trainwreck. And when he takes a moment to romantically kiss his wife, it’s totally an aaaawwwwww moment. Or would be, if Vicki wasn’t staring at them from across the table like a total psycho crackhead drooling with jealousy.

Hallelujah, a stalker is born.

Luckily, Simon’s too far away for Vicki to grab, so she turns to her husband and starts demanding, “Do me like that! Do me like that!” Donn swallows some more wine and good-naturedly kisses her. Sadly, Vicki hasn’t grasped the fact that forcing someone to be romantic doesn’t feel the same as spontaneous demonstrations of love. Vicki, darling, it’s the same reason that your collection of plastic, battery-operated, devices don’t feel the same way as human flesh and blood; they aren’t real.

Vicki’s manipulative, needy, whoring, ways are new to Simon, and he’s understandably confused as to why Vicki has to tell Donn to say he loves her.

Personally, I’m amazed that she doesn’t have to hold a gun to his head.

Vicki bats her eyes at Simon and says pathetically that she has to ask because she doesn’t hear it often enough, all the while doing her best to look like Rapunzel waiting to rescued from her lonely tower. Poor Donn drinks some more wine and pleads with his wife for a normal evening. Not understanding that Vicki has become a pulsing black hole of vaginal need that threatens to swallow everything in its path, Tamra suggests that Donn give his wife a hug.

Because a hug’s going to fix everything.

Vicki decides to deliver a short, horrifying, monologue replete with symbolism of her emotional needs and her empty vajayjay, referring poetically to both as her empty lovetank. It’s like a bad telenovela involving an empty gas can and a gas station attendant. Really, there’s nothing left for Vicki to do other than to dissolve into tears, or at least hide her eyes behind her napkin.

Laugh? Cry? It’s all the same when you’re completely insane.

Luckily, the producers take pity on us and give us some real, non-dysfunctional, romance with Gretchen and Jeff. After all, what could be staged about a carriage ride through the streets of downtown Indianapolis? I’m not saying that people don’t do it. I’m just saying that it makes a mighty fine photo for all the high falutin folks. Just to make sure that everything looks purty, Gretchen makes a little adjustment to Jeff’s beard. Men love being poked at so much. And, then, Jeff gets a little more camera time, where he tragically talks about having previously felt like a 30 year old man in a 53 year old body, and now feeling like a 30 year old man in an eighty year old body. It’s really kind of hard to watch these two together. Gretchen horrifies me and Jeff makes me sad. It’s like watching a car wreck in slow motion.

The next day, our NAPA vacationers are going for a ride on the yacht of one of Donn’s buddies. Out of the two women, I’m guessing that one of them is still hauling around a dry, dusty, love tank. From Tamra’s contented expression, I don’t think it’s her. And, with the way that Vicki’s babbling on about selling Donn’s beloved vacation home, I’m thinking her tank is going to be going clankity-clank for a while.

While Vicki destroys all chances for romance in her relationship, Simon and Tamra escape to the front of the boat and get in a little cuddle time. These two are so nice and sweet. And, it’s just like a horror movie. Just when they think they’re safe from the psycho stalker from hell, Vicki spies them through the window. The problem with being on a boat is that short of jumping overboard, you’re pretty much stuck. So, when Vicky oozes out along the deck like some skanky, barfly, serial killer, wearing a really ugly blouse, there’s no where for them to run.

OMG, she stole my great aunt Gladys’ favorite outfit.

I seriously can’t decide if Vicki’s trying to force a little ménage a trois action, or just destroy their romantic moment out of jealous spite. Either way, she’s copping some serious feels off Simon.

I so wish Tamra would knock Vicki’s ass overboard, but then they’d probably have to haul her back out of the water and listen to her screech and whine all the way back to Orange County.

Tamra and Simon finally make it back inside the cabin despite the fact that Vicki has practically glued herself to Simon’s back. Taking a seat with their backs to Vicki, they bow their heads in a brief prayer that a huge wave will strike the boat and wash Vicki overboard. But, no such luck. Vicki continues to clank her tank suggestively and bat her eyes at the back of Simon’s head, while whining about the lack of affection her husband gives her.

Personally, I’d be considering a restraining order.

Our final segment brings us to Lauri watching her youngest daughter, Sophie’s, riding lesson. For all of her disappointment in Josh and Ashley, Lauri is consistently enamored by her youngest child. God forbid this kid ever screws up. As far as I can tell, it’s Sophie’s sole responsibility to show that Lauri really can raise and produce great kids. But, speaking of kids that screw up, we get to listen to Lauri revealing more private information about Josh. Not surprisingly, Josh has expressed a desire to be a young boy again, because life as an adult in a jail cell has got to pretty much be sucking big time. For her part, Lauri is sure that if she could turn back the clock to the time that he was three, he’d be a completely different boy by now. She shares how Josh’s arrest prompted feelings of confusion, humiliation and embarrassment, and fear for him. Sadly, Josh is having a tough time in jail and got beat up pretty badly, which sucks for Josh and I really hopes he finds a way out that mess. Lauri, citing her need to focus on family, decides to pull out of the Real Housewife season, and whatever her motives are, I applaud the move. There’s way too much stuff going down in both her and George’s extended families that has no business being shared on TV. Besides, we’re getting a new housewife for the rest of the season who’s not, gasp, blond. It looks like diversity is finally spreading into Orange County and Jeana will no longer be the token brunette for this season. However, I do hope Lauri continues watching the show, because it looks like there’s going to be a lesson on spinning tassels.

So, Gasmii, what do you think about Lauri’s departure? And, what about the new housewife? If you’ve got dirt, please dish it. I hope everybody in the Northeast that got hit by the storm managed to stay warm and safe, and at least got a day off from work.

Hugs,

Yenta