RHOA: When Bad Plays Happen To Worse People

Hello Darlings–

Hello Darlings–

Let’s hope so hard that this week’s little show is more entertaining than the last sorry-ass episode, of which the most interesting part was our collective wondering what the fuck is wrong with Superstar DJ Tracy Young. Beyond the obvious, of course– she willingly mashed muffins with Top Recording Artist Kim Zolciak. At least Howard Stern has re-upped for another 5 years of soul-nourishing hilarity at Sirius XM Radio, so I don’t have to quit doing cardio since he’s the only thing that gets me through my one hour five days a week (any less and my Mexican/Puerto Rican genes would take over and I’d resemble Beth Ditto after a month-long rice pudding bender). Before I go off on Bravo‘s douche-tastic self-promotional bullshit this week– including forcing a gaggle of RH’s onto the embarrassing Fashion Show and thinking anyone on the planet besides his mother and porn-starved gay teens in Utah would be charmed by nightly episodes of the pubic-access-level What Will Happen– let’s all unhook our bras and jump right in:

Flawrence Washington Salon. Flawrence’s biggest, best, batshittest client Sheree arrives for some “f*ck-me” hair, which is how Flaw interprets her request for an extra-large Diana Ross-style ‘do. Sheree wants to know how the aspiring transvestite pop star and his new Kandi-penned/produced track “Closet Freak”‘s coming along. Can’t he give his most famous, favorite and fucktarded customer a teensy-weensy sneak preview? Since Flawrence craves attention almost as much as, I’m guessing, cock, he obliges with a lovely acapella snippet that would be perfect for a winning American Idol audition. Wait, what I’m saying… they prefer their queer chanteuses like Clay Aiken and David Archuleta– closeted, asexual and church-lady shower-nozzle masturbation fodder.

Flawrence gushes about Kandi in the studio–”She die-rects!”– and Sheree’s super-supportive, then interviews that she’s all for him becoming a sassy songstress as long as it won’t interfere with his weave-queen duties. She’s considerate that way. And dishy as the day as long, immediately bringing up Kim’s appearance at that embarrassing automotive abortion with lezzie love-doll Tracy in tow. Flawrence asks if this means Kim’s through with married benefactor Big Poppa, and if so, do Kim’s kids call Tracy “Daddy”? Like their mom does, I’m guessing. I’m not saying DJ Tracy is butch, Gasmii, but she kick-starts her vibrator and rolls her own tampons.

Sheree takes a call from Jabba-esque agency-owner Rebecca, who tells her that after Sheree’s white-hot audition last ep, they’d very much like her as a client at The People Store, which is absolutely Atlanta‘s top talent brokerage named after a slave market. We also know that “very little excites” Sheree, so the fact that this warrants a girlish shriek means Her Ladyship’s really got her tits in a lather about it. Finally, the career that has eluded Sheree for 40-plus years is within reach of her lacquered claws. As Flaw teases her to the rafters, Sheree puts on a Miss Ross power-puss, telling us that this is the beginning of her “coming out of my shell” (because she’s been so demure up till now) and making it all happen.

“So we’re clear, right? You give me your voice and I change your fish-tail into legs…”

NeNe pops up to pull us down to earth, interviewing that she’s not surprised Sheree landed an agent, it’s Atlanta, not Hollywood. “They’re not necessarily saying you’re great– they’re just saying you have a name and we MIGHT could do something witchoo.” Bitchy but accurate. Sheree tells Flaw she’s accepted a non-paying role in a church-sponsored joke of a local theatre production entitled The Child-Support Man just to learn her craft and showcase her immense ego talent. It opens in a week so she better start memorizing lines and rejecting wardrobe choices, stat.

AREA, Atlanta’s Resource for Music & Arts. Kim and Daffy Assistant Sweetie arrive for a dance lesson with Gay Choreographer Mitchell, who has the thankless task of whipping up a routine so Kim can shake it as the opening act on Kandi’s solo tour and thus keep as much off the catty-fan-attention OFF Kim’s actual vocals. Kim is worried he’ll make her “do the splits”, but she better not try that or Tracy’s class ring from Short Bus DJ Academy might bounce out and scuff up the floor. Mitchell, who makes Flawrence look like Flo Rida (the rapper, not the mom from Good Times) shows Kim the choreo he’s got in mind, and Kim says she “danced for 16 years– ballet, jazz, tap, everything” so this will be easy as pie (made of fur?). “I’m probably a better dancer than I am a singer,” Kim remarks. Please… you’re probably a better human being than you are a singer.
But that’s not really relevant, since as a dancer, you suck! Where’s Miss Margie from Toddlers & Tiaras? Her unique aptitude transforming spoiled blonde ADD tart-tots is exactly what we need here, since Kim’s paying zero attention to Gay Mitchell and his sassifyin’ step sequencing. In the end, Kim’s just going to get up there and be herself and wing it. Rehearsal is a process that really sucks Kim dry and let’s face it, she doesn’t need a lot of distractions getting in the way of what the fans are paying to experience: Flat vocals, a range the size of the space between Natalie Portman’s ribs, and lots of wig-flipping.

And step…

…and vogue…

…and smoke.

“Where the HELL is that wine?!?”

Casa Cynthia. With sis/asst Malorie, our fave codependent ex-supermodel is embroiled in Wedding Plan-Mania for her upcoming seven-figure nuptials to grumpy old codger/fiance Peter. Is it really THAT much fun to be dropping hard-earned recession-cash on a union that everyone, including NeNe, my 8-year-old niece Emilia and leading domestic violence experts, sees lasting about as long as Jake & Taylor? At least Jake’s fun to blow. Cynthia mentions that the wedding’s five weeks away, the invitations only just arrived, and what she really needs right now is a vacation– alone. This wedding is such a hideous mistake.

And here comes Gramps now, complaining that the girls drank all his wine. Then I think he starts some passive-aggressive rap about wanting a pair of these invitations, not to send to anyone, to keep as a souvenir in case they break up. This is all so toxic yet non-entertaining I must warn you, beloved readers, that this may be another short blog. There’s only so much a girl can take, and I’m talking about me, not Cynthia. She already has a cute, calm daughter and I refuse to believe she wants to have more kids with this tool, so the pressure must be coming from him. Unsurprisingly. He’s an 88-year-old man in the process of going broke. How many ex-A-list models is he going to stagger across?

Because it’s her storyline and she must, Cyn reminds Peter about the spat he had with NeNe when C & P were driving back from the drag race. Cynthia tells us how “uncomfortable” it is to be stuck between her pal and her elderly captor, then informs Peter that NeNe feels he’s been a dick to her recently and he knows what Cyn’s talking about. No, I most certainly do not, he dickishly barks, then sulks to her that the gals spend too much time yakking on the phone. He may be ancient but he acts like a bratty, attention-starved first-grader, the kind who makes one advocate corporal punishment. Cynthia is somewhat stronger than she has been lately and tells him he and NeNe really need to work it out.

“I feel ya, Ike.”

Phaedra’s tract mansion. Dwight’s on the way to high tea with Queen Victoria but pulls the time-machine over to suck up to Phaedra, his last remaining connection to the RH franchise. Her mother, Pastor Regina, answers the door, breaking a light sweat, and hoots and hollers at Dwight’s queer finery as he sweeps up the stairs to find Phaedra in an obligatory breast-feeding moment with newborn Ayden Adonis. Dwight is about as interested in the baby as she is, so Phae quickly hands AA over to Pastor Rotunda and her Buick-sized bosoms, leaving Phae and Dwight alone to talk, or more accurately, talk trash.

Dwight says he never realized Kim & Cynthia were such good friends, and that Kim obviously gave Cyn one of her “horrible” wigs which Cyn wore to Kandi’s birthday party. Actually, Kim gave the horrible wig to Kandi, which Dwight may not remember since he was boozing it up as usual. Dwight then tattles that Kim & Cyn were dishing Phaedra and her hinky due-date/labor-inducement horseshit. “Why she all up in my Kool-Aid?!” Phae colorfully scoffs. “Until you get your own HUZ-bin, you have nuthin to say to me but hah and bah.” That’s “hi and bye” for the belle-impaired. Phaedra interviews that Cynthia “doesn’t have a brain of her own, po thang.” Says the London-educated attorney who thinks Barbarian Cream is a dessert.

“Gimme that chile before Dwight gets the gay on it!”

Dwight recounts his disgust at Kim, “a mother and a head nurse” (ahem), making tasteless remarks about Phae’s “alien” baby and its possible birth-defects, prompting Phae to ask us if Kim’s nursing degree was obtained via mail-order. “Just cuz you strip in a nurse’s outfit does not make you a nurse,” Phae sassily observes. Idiot– everyone knows NENE’s the ex-stripper. “I went to school so I would not have to answer to NO-buddy, especially not such a uneducated hookah like that.” Clearly Phae’s rigorous legal studies left no time for ordinary grammar courses. Phaedra adds that Kim is obviously “jealous” because Phae has it all– husband, career, own money. Yes, and Phaedra’s mom can beat up Kim’s mom. In fact, Pastor Regina could kill both of Kim’s parents with one swing of her titanic tits. “Kim need ta get a hobby, honey, besides ho’in,” Phae cracks as Dwight giggles like an Asian schoolgirl. Good one.

“…and no matter how hard I shake him, he won’t use a toilet!”

Sheree’s tract mansion. Kandi arrives to help Sheree “run lines” for the play. Is it me and my ex-teen-model body-issues, or has Sheree gained a few pounds somewhere along the line?! I didn’t even recognize her waddling toward the door. Kandi, who I seem to remember being a very decent actress, interviews that she’s happy to help even though she’s busy prepping her own concert tour. She certainly has recent psychological training in dealing with talent-free, delusional divas. Sheree or Bravo did have the courtesy to provide lunch, but Kandi says she’s dieting pre-tour. She tells Sheree she wants to look like HER, which, having just rewound and verified Sheree’s larger dumper, I find odd.

Sheree tells us she’s most nervous about memorizing her lines, which she’s only just gotten. As a retired actress myself, I tend to think she needs to worry about a few other things, too, but I guess she needs to learn the lines before she can worry about not fucking them up. Not that I have much faith in the “playwrighter”, who, you’ll recall, is the founder and top evangelist of The Soul Factory church, which endeavors to “bring the experience of Broadway to the ‘hood.” And prevent gays from marrying each other. Sheree explains that she’s playing the role of the friend of an embittered, vicious, destructive ex-wife trying to make people think her former husband is a deadbeat dad who doesn’t take care of his kids. That’s EXACTLY how it usually happens, right, ladies? Single moms are such vindictive cunts. Thank Jesus that The Soul Factory is giving these poor slandered dads a voice!

The script is pretty much what I expected. Kandi? Fantastic. Her scene partner? Let’s just say Sheree is to acting what Sheree is to fashion-empire launching. I think an entire live play may be too much too soon. It’s too bad there are no such things as local douche commercials, because that’d be just about right. Then after they finish, Sheree admits to Kandi that her own ex, pro athlete Bob Whitfield, has not paid her ANY child support, ever. So now I feel bad about snarking on her. Almost. Kandi said she had similar trouble with her daughter’s dad, but he came through moments before it went to court. If only men had to appear in front of a judge before they could stick it in. There would be SO much more parking in the world.

Sheree’s first review

Kandi is such a good actress she sounds believable when she tells Sheree how sorry she is to have to miss the play on Saturday. Kandi’s producing songs for Flawrence AND Kim, and has her own tour, on which she tells Sheree that Kim will be opening for her. Kandi says she doesn’t know how she’ll be able to stand “being on a bus” with Wiggy for two weeks. I don’t want to see Kandi in hell, but this show needs some serious bad behavior, like four episodes ago, so bon voyage!

Kim’s townhouse. Sheree stops by and Kim whisks her upstairs to abstinent teen nuisance Brielle‘s room, where Kim’s installed some kind of hare-brained spa treatment that looks straight out of a 70′s softcore sci-fi spoof. Kim is of course too lazy to exercise, so she’s turning to “science” to keep the saggy-broken-down-ex-porn-queen-blues away. It’s called Zerona and is a non-surgical laser fat-burning contraption that zaps pudge cells so they empty themselves of lard, which you then presumably flush out through oily urine. Delish! Kim has also invited Cynthia & NeNe to this little chub-busters’ party, so expect plenty of dull nupto-phobic babble (Cyn) and pixillated pontoons (Neen).

Kim & Sheree agree that Cyn spends way too much time talking about NeNe and imply maybe that’s who she should be marrying. Before they can speculate any further, the “Get Skinny People” arrive, dragging even more hi-tech lazy-bitch equipment into the house. Kim has a fleeting moment of clarity, wondering what her neighbors must be thinking, but at this point, who really gives a shit. The scientific team consists of a man and a woman in black spa scrubs. The guy explains the process to Sheree, prompting her to interview that it doesn’t sound “normal”. Kim mentions the price– 3K for 6 treatments (thanks, Miss Andy!)

Tracy, you ANIMAL!

NeNe arrives and swaps compliments with Kim before demanding food and drink before they begin. Kim’s starving, too, and says she’d like to order pizza, so hopefully we’ll get a nice shot of her gobbling a greasy slice right on the reducing table. Kim opens her fridge and we get a quick view– diet sodas, Red Bull and an institutional ketchup bottle. Kim tells NeNe that Cynthia’s coming, too. NeNe tells us that since the “argument with Peter”, NeNe has refrained from calling her striking pal, and Cyn hasn’t phoned her either. “And I’m fine with it,” NeNe declares. Ding-dong– it’s Cynthia. Kim grabs a goblet of wine and they all go upstairs to Brielle’s room. Where IS the obnoxious little celibate today? Giving blue balls to some unlucky French teen, I’m guessing.

Kim says NeNe should partake of the slimming procedure “for your titties”, but NeNe says she’s scared it’ll “fry my brain”. That ship has so sailed, honey. Kim scoffs via interview at NeNe’s fear of “a red light, but you’ll cut your tummy, fix your tits and snip your nose?” Well put. Kim slinks off to don a bikini and Cynthia immediately asks NeNe if they can have a private chat. “No,” NeNe snaps, half-kidding, then interviews that she doesn’t “want any drama” and isn’t thrilled about clearing the air with her crestfallen amiga. NeNe relents, accompanying Cyn to the kitchen, where the codependent cutie hugs her, says she’s really missed her, gives her a scented candle, then whips out a “Friend Contract” for them both to sign.

WTF?!? This has to be the producers’ idea, because it’s a ridonkulous parody of a grade-school note, indicating that NeNe should “circle Yes or No” to answer whether or not she wants to be Cynthia’s friend. If it’s Yes, there are 3 simple rules which I’m sure Cyn will go over in excruciating detail momentarily. Cut to Kim and her jiggling jugs on the table, where several red beams that look like giant blood-filled leeches swirl over her tummy and thighs. Then it’s back to Cynthia and her retarded contract, establishing “hug it out” protocol in case of friction with NeNe over the next year. “This is definitely some Single Black Female sh*t,” NeNe proclaims, but circles Yes and signs it anyway.

“Sorry, Cyn… Peter wants a threesome: him and my titties.”

“Kim & Sheree is not exactly normal,” NeNe tells us, “but they’ve never done anything as freaky as that” contract. No, it’s business as usual, with Sheree pulling focus, blabbing about her child-support play and her “pivotal part” in it. Unfortunately, Kim, too, will be missing Her Ladyship’s stunning stage debut (not counting those two high school productions she can’t remember the titles of) because she has to fly to L.A. and get her real hair dyed. In comes Brielle bearing pizzas and there’s the money shot of Kim scarfing fried cheese as the lasers work overtime to firm up her flab. I’m really quite speechless, Gasmii– this show has officially jumped the shark.

Phaedra’s tract mansion. Pastor Rotunda is beside herself as a team of delivery men cart crates of corn into the house for “shuckin ‘n fryin!” Well! Are you as uncomfortable as I am right now? What’s next, a Watermelons ‘R’ Us truck?!? And it gets worse– brace yourself for an entire thirty seconds of Phae and her big fat mama “Mmmm-HMMM”ing like they’re in a sitcom Tyler Perry forgot to write. Someone help me process this, because it makes the NYC Puerto Rican Day Parade look sophisticated and empowering.

“Girl, wait till you try my fried insulin!”

Soul Factory Theatre. It’s the night of the big show, and Sheree actually has a mis-accented star on her dressing room door. Let’s hope they also have a giant red hook to pull her offstage when she starts to suck. Top Gay Flawrence (love the gold nails, sistah!) pops by to doll Sheree up and offer best swishes. (I am fascinated by him and would love to see how he looked in high school with hair, and ask if life was difficult for an ATL teen constantly on the brink of combustion.) He is accompanied by cute, super-sassy make-up artist Tasha. She either says this will be the “first of many” starring engagements for Sheree, or that Sheree’s going “to be worse” than NeNe. You try to decipher it– I’m a Recap Artist, not a forensic audio technician. Despite the certainly huge temptation to dump Sheree for the cooler, more exciting, wagon-hitchable Kandi, Flaw knaws how to treat someone with a cardboard-and-foil star on their door, and tells Sheree “You got a long line of folk to see you!”

Sheree tells us and herself that “even though this is a low-budget play with a limited run, Tyler Perry got his start in local theatre.” I think she means his sexual start in a local theatre men’s room. In this case, since it’s a church/theatre, I imagine the preacher/artistic director/”playwrighter” Deron Cloud just ordered his faithful, gullible flock to show up and buy tickets. They will NOT be joined by Sheree’s acting coach or anyone from her new agency, so you can imagine how punishing and piddly even people in Pretend Atlanta Show Biz consider this production. “I want them to see my presence draws a big crowd,” Sheree interviews, as we cut to Cynthia arriving with Gramps and her as-sister-ant Malorie, who really should step up and make Cyn call off the wedding, right?

Cut to Sheree telling Flaw that Kim is out of town, but Phaedra’s coming, along with Cynthia and Gramps. And NeNe, who, Sheree gossips, got into a huge argument with the elderly restaurateur. Flaw thinks it’s not very manly of Peter to ” sit and argue back with” a woman. Maybe Peter and NeNe should just have sex “and git it ovuh with!”, the cross-dressing songstress opines. And here’s NeNe, with BFF Diana, crossing the parking lot and asking “What kinda play is THIS? This ain’t the Oscars, honey. I’m used to somethin a little bit different, but let’s go. We bring our own drinks up in places like this sh*t!” LOL. The lights are dimmed by the time Phaedra Oompa-Loompas to her seat. NeNe is seated right next to Cynthia, with Gramps glowering and displaying defensive body language on Cyn’s other side.

When he’s not battling the Joker, Batman loves shitty theatre!

I presume Deron Cloud is the guy who walks onstage and starts the show by saying “Prepare yo’self– The Child-Support Man!” “Prepare yourself”?? Not exactly the most promising of intro’s, Gasmii. We unfortunately get only Bravo-ADD snippets of the show, which, as previously stated, is about a loud, evil harridan out to get her good-hearted baby-daddy. We do get views of our people in the audience: NeNe rolling her eyes, Peter grimacing like he’s getting a digital rectal exam, and Phaedra texting. The set looks like it was constructed by a special-ed art class and the mostly screamed dialogue makes Tyler Perry seem like Oscar Wilde.

NeNe interviews that “I got to pee, I need somethin to drink, my head’s itchin, my phone’s ringin, and Sheree still hasn’t come out… It was like waiting for your 5-year-old to come out on the Christmas play.” LOL. Cut to Sheree backstage doing her vocalizing exercises. Hilarious! It’s finally time for Sheree’s glorious entrance, which is greeted by what can delicately be described as very polite enthusiasm. Considering the quality of the play, Sheree’s perfectly serviceable in what NeNe describes as “more like a cameo.” Obviously the thankless role of the Reasonable Friend was tacked on by Monsieur Cloud in a shameless attempt to generate publicity for his tired show. And if he really thinks this replicates “the experience of Broadway”, he should try going to a play there and scope out the diff.

“If I poke my own eyes out, it’ll only be half as bad…”

After the curtain call (not that there’s a curtain), Sheree greets her peeps with a shriek and accepts a back-handed accolade from NeNe about how brilliant she was with only 5 days’ prep-time. Phaedra appears and complains about her sore, milky boobs. Eeeuw. Sheree interviews that it went “really well” and she’s “ready to move into film”. The balls on this broad. Cut to Phaedra awkwardly toddling over to Cynthia, already pissed off before Cyn chirpily asks about the baby. Then she wins my heart by leaping right to it and remarking that Kandi told them the baby ended up being full-term, so what’s up with that? Phaedra poorly feigns confusion, as if not remembering all that preemie horseshit she was endlessly spouting.

Phae basically blows past her own lies and testily informs Cynthia “it’s all good” and none of her business. Then Phaedra says she heard from Dwight that Cyn was speculating about whether the baby was “an alien”. Cynthia interviews that Kim was the one making cracks about the then-unborn Ayden Adonis but Phaedra thinks Cyn made them. Phae’s all “mmm-hmm, whatevah” and then snubs Cynthia’s request to see the bouncing little non-alien– Phaedra’s “ode skoo” and doesn’t take the baby out in public. She prefers to keep it at home where Pastor Regina can take care of it in between fritter fry-ups.

“You wanna see the baby? Come out to the car… What?!! I cracked the windows.”

To her oddly giddy delight, Peter takes NeNe aside and apologizes for the “reckless feelings” he “expressed”. NeNe is charmed by this but probably slightly surprised when he starts confessing that he was having “a hard f*ckin day” and has “problems with my lady”, specifically that whenever Peter returns home from the grueling demands of restaurant-tanking, she’s gabbing with NeNe on the phone. NeNe forgives him for screaming in her ear and says she’s “back in love” with him. Mwah! Cut to a shot of Cynthia looking kind of disturbed (which may have been taken totally out of context, let’s be real). Just hand him over to NeNe and move on!

Twist Restaurant and Tapas Bar. The next day, NeNe meets Kim, who greets her with a croaky Salahi “What’s up, love??!” doubtlessly brought on by a long night of boozing and sucking cock, not singing practice. Kim’s already ordered a bottle of wine each for them, all the better to make testicle jokes with the gay waiter who takes their calamari order. Kim asks about NeNe’s tits, which supposedly look smaller, so I guess NeNe did pop her fun-bags under the red-light (and it wouldn’t be the first time, MMMM-kay!). This topic is way more interesting to me than Cynthia’s friendship contract, which NeNe proceeds to whip out and make fun of. If I thought for one second Cynthia actually wrote it, I’d be hurt for her.

“My boob job? I’d say it was half-successful.”

“I woulda circled no and ran like hell, outta MY f*ckin house,” Kim effervesces. “I don’t know her that well and I’m grateful for that,” she adds cuntily, going on to suggest that Cyn finds NeNe “dreamy”. OMFG, now NeNe is recounting the whole inconsequential fracas with Gramps, which we’ve heard 38 times in this ep alone. Doesn’t Pastor Regina have some hellfire to preach to her convict-banging slut of a daughter? Or some cholesterol-clogged recipes to share?! I really can’t take much more of this, can you? Kim says Peter’s “probably worried” that Cyn “wants to spread her legs” for NeNe, to which NeNe squawks “She can’t spread sh*t for me! What’m I gonna do with it?!” OK, that was funny.

Not so funny, Kim peer-pressuring NeNe into smoking with her out on the patio. Talk about high school behavior. What’s next? Teasing their hunky 22-year-old trig teacher till he cums in his pants? Sorry, I was Catholic. That’s what we did. As NeNe’s many impressionable young fans at home shove Nerf footballs under their shirts and pretend to puff away on golf pencils, she confesses to Kim that soon-to-be-ex-hubby Gregg used to annoy her by smoking cigs and drinking coffee every morning. Gregg’s still living in his self-imposed quarters in the basement at the river-rock tract mansion; Kim says if Pig Boppa lived at her house, “I’d shoot myself.” NeNe HATES it when Kim compares her trashy mistresshood with PB to NeNe’s 13-year, formerly rock-solid marriage, but she ignores Kim and continues her point, which is that Gregg ain’t leavin’ without a court order aka a judge granting the divorce. And how will NeNe feel when Gregg packs up and clears out?

Fine. “It’s not like we sleepin in the same bed,” NeNe replies, then gets zen on us: “If it’s meant to be… it’ll be. I’m in a place where– ‘whatever’.” Kim wants to know how quickly NeNe might be romantically available. Once more, Wiggy brings up her own myopic, Boppa-centric gaze which was ruptured by the magic of “that crazy bitch” (space cadet Sappho Tracy) who brought in what Pig Boppa wasn’t giving her. Namely pussy and a hard-drive full of music you need to be on mushrooms and Extasy to enjoy, plus a couple of 10mg Norco’s for a smooth comedown. Allegedly. NeNe reminds us how “touchy” Kim is about her lesbian boyfriend: Tracy’s off-limits unless Kim brings up the subject first. I think spacey Tracy and her “Is she deaf, retarded or just mellow?” voice are fabulous additions to this show and I certainly WOULD like to know if Tracy did all the work while Kim was splayed out like a whoreskin rug, but Kim’s apparently saving that for HER book.

“Don’t worry, girl. If you get cancer, I can get you a wig.”

Everyone knows the producers love to end each episode with a shocking revelation and this week it’s… prepare yo’selves… NeNe would consider dating “a white dude”. What about Latinos?!? You know what they say, once you go Rican, your parents be freakin’! Can I have a Mmmm-HMMMM on that, Pastor Regina? Kim asks NeNe if she remembers “that guy, the football player from Dancing With Atlanta [sic]?” Oh, yes, NeNe does recall Kroy Biermann and his “big-ass booty”. Well, he and Kim have fucked gone out a couple times. He’s better from the neck down, and a beefy muscular rump is ALL kinds of fun. NeNe warns Kim about the dangers of fucking dating pro athletes, citing Kandi’s and Sheree’s bad experiences. But to be fair, ex-RH Lisa Wu certainly did fine with choco-luscious Ed Hartwell (the bankruptcies aside). And Sheree would bring out the monster in any guy. (But let me emphasize that no matter how much of an irksome label-licking twat Ree-Ree is, she’s still entitled to child support!)

Kim’s never fucked dated an athlete before and to make things juicier and more fertile, he’s only 25. “He just come out of the womb, bitch,” Kim drawls. “He’s probably Phaedra’s son. I knew she was havin a grown-ass man out of that vajayjay! Seriously.” Alright, so Kim just earned her keep this week. Mazel, Wiggy!

Next time: Kandi frets about the tour and tells Kim to step it up. NeNe hurts Cynthia’s feelings. Phaedra and Kim have a spat.