RHOA: Yo Big Fat Mama Thank You A Ho

Hi Gasmii–

Sorry, mijas, no time for chitchat. Just a riddle. What do Arnold Schwarzenegger jacking off and Phaedra‘s favorite cookies have in common? For the answer, keep reading!

SUV. “So you ready to drop the load?” mocha-licious Apollo inquires of his hideous wife. It’s certainly not the first time he’s ever asked this question, although probably never to a woman before. “I think that sounds crass,” Miss Southern Belle snips. He patiently rephrases it: is she “ready to birf da baby?” Or has she become “attached” to it and thus hesitant to unleash release it into the world? I can guarantee you that ain’t it, sweetie. Phaedra tells us she’s “afraid of the birthing procedure because you hear so many horror stories.” Yes, terrifying tales involving feeding and diapering and putting another living creature’s needs before one’s boughetto own. But at the moment Phae’s skurred of something called “maternal you-know… what is it called? The maternal, what they call it now? Maternal, uh, whaternal, what is it, is it maternal, it’s a name for what women are dying… maternal… DEATH.” Thanks to the RHOA editors for that delightful little opening nugget! But in Phae’s defense, most of her obstetric information seems to come from the pre-Civil War era, when dying in childbirth was far more common.

They pass the Augusta city limits, because there aren’t any qualified birthing facilities anywhere in Atlanta. As we previously theorized, Phae wants to be a nice cozy distance from those nosy Housewives and their impertinent gestation-period questions. They arrive at Rosemary Inn, a stately antebellum bed-and-breakfast which Phaedra tells Apollo “used to be a plantation”, but they’re “coming as guests, not to work”. Speak for yourself. Putting up with your insane, pregzilla ass is right up there with a long day in the fields. They’re shown their lovely room with its antique four-poster bed (shudder), then set a spell on the verandah for a snack of lemonade and ladyfingers. Apollo’s not familiar with the fancy confection, so Phae explains that it contains “Barbarian cream”. I fucking heart those editors. BARBARIAN CREAM??! REALLY?!? You stupid highfalutin twat. Apollo doesn’t mention that he has a DVD with that exact same title hidden in his gym locker.

“And we took the Confederate flag bedspread off just for y’all!”

As a couple pulls up and approaches them, Phae insists to us that the blessed event is occurring in Augusta because “Dr Lue is there” and “Dr Lue and his wife Sarah and I have been SUCH good friends for so many years.” Phae and Lou met “on a radio show where he was giving medical advice and I was giving legal advice.” Thug Line– I’m sure you’ve all heard if it. Phaedra proclaims Dr Lue “the best OB/GYN in the state” and “the only doctor I’d let near MAH vagina.” MD’s all over Georgia are gasping with relief.

Lue and Sarah and her pasty white thunder-thighs join the parents-to-be for some lemonade and Barbarian Cream and they play out a hilarious little scene from the new sitcom Pathological Phaedra. Apollo wants to know all about “the procedure”, so Lue explains they’ll be drawing Phae’s blood (with acid-proof gloves one hopes) then shoving something called Cervidil up her chuckie to soften the “hard structure” of the cervix. Mmmm, pass the ladyfingers! Dr Lue seems rather new to the case, asking how much the baby weighs right now. Phae, becoming visibly tense and shifty, quickly replies “7.2″. “And that was at 36 weeks?” Lue asks. Phae purses her lips (not a great idea) and nods thoughtfully, perhaps realizing that 36 weeks equals nine months, not 7.5 months as she has been telling everyone who would listen the last two episodes.

“WHAT did you just call these cookies?!?”

How big was Phae when she was whelped hatched born? “7 and somethin,” she replies. And Apollo? “He was well over 8 pounds and he came 3 months early,” Phaenocchio says with a straight face before Apollo can answer. Dr Lue: Whoa. Sarah squeals disbelief as Apollo smiles with embarrassment or guilt or both. “That’s what his mama told me,” Phae says a tad defensively. I wait for her to add that Apollo’s mom was ig’nant white trash who instilled a love of canned foods in the hunky ex-con so could have her information way off. When asked if she’s been “walking” as prescribed, Apollo throws her under the bus by tattling that she’s been taking dancing classes and only getting 6 hours of sleep a night.

Lue is clearly appalled at this pre-natal abuse and admonishes the couple that they’re going to have an innocent young life solely dependent on them– Lue and Sarah didn’t “go out” for the first 2 years after THEIR baby was born. Phaedra makes this face:

…then interviews that she’s very concerned about synching motherhood with her demanding self-maintenance schedule, which includes daily work-outs, three massages a week, weekly mani-pedi and mandatory facials. “It takes a lot to be me and look this good.” Well then you’re getting short-changed, Kermita. “You’ve gotta give in, there’s no escape,” Sarah brightly declares. Especially when little Rhett Butler Parks creeps into your room in about 15 years in the dead of night with a loaded shotgun. I just hope Apollo’s at a private after-hours man-sex club that evening, since I’m sure he’ll have done his best.

TAGS. Kandi’s boutique is the location for her 34th birthday party, which is a smart way to pay for the thing– just get everyone to buy a bunch if shit, or as Kandi calls it, her “trendy sexy-but-afforadable recession-proof clothes”. Just make sure you only accept cash from Sheree and bankruptcy-challenged ex-HW Lisa Wu Hartwell; Cynthia and elderly fiance Peter still have unmaxed Visas as far as I’m aware.

“As a fashion designer,” Sheree hilariously interviews, “I think that Kandi has some cute clothes at Tags. It’s not really my style, but I can definitely shop here” for daughters Kaleigh, 10 and invisible, and Tierra, 24 and way too normal for this show. Sheree also has uncharacteristically non-bitchy praise for Lisa, saying she’s missed her and that “she looks good”. Where’s the diggy, diction-impaired diva we know and hate?! Luckily, Kim‘s here to pick up the slack. Arriving late in the white Range Rover, Kim tells us she hopes the tension between her and Kandi, brought on by Kim’s massive ego and lack of gratitude, will be eased by Kim’s presence today, complete with large, pink-fabric-swathed b-day gift. Just for added laughs, she’s brought cross-dressing wig designer Derek J, in white short-shorts and clogs. “Hi, love!” Kim Oprah-bellows. Cue the Michaele Salahi douche-chills!

Kandi immediately opens Kim’s present. It’s a long strawberry blonde wig from the Kim Zolciak Collection! Kandi puts it on and immediately loses half her creative and personal credibility despite Derek swooping in for a touch-up. Cynthia interviews that Kandi’s short ‘do was a fine look for the lovable songstress and she needs this Not So Li’l Kim accessory like a cat needs swim fins. “It looked really… hookerish,” Kandi interviews, correctly, adding that she would’ve “preferred the royalties for ‘Tardy for the Party’ a little more.” Well, it’s your birthday, not the 12th of Nevuary, so don’t hold your breath.

“One second, Kim. I’m just Tweeting what a pathetic spotlight-sucking pig you are.”

Dwight is there in a ridonk white suit you might see a skeleton wearing in Disneyworld‘s Haunted Mansion. All that’s missing is a top hat and cane and he can perform Michigan J Frog‘s greatest hits. Cynthia brings up Phaedra’s baby and Kim demands to know what’s up with the whole inducing labor thing “2 months before”. “Because he’s developed,” Dwight snottily replies, taking a big swig of The Kool-Aid. Kim reminds Dwight she’s a nurse and says there’s “no f*ckin way” doctors would “pop out” a premature baby. Kim hits Dwight with surprise medical knowledge, mentioning that a 7-month baby lacks the necessary pulmonary surfactant for proper respiration. Get Kim! Maybe she’s not as dumb as she looks, acts and usually sounds. Next question: who’s the father??? “Her husband!” Dwight scoffs. Then they had a “shotgun wedding”, Kim says, telling us that “Dwight is a shaaaady muthaf*cka” and wondering if Dwight might be the dad, since he became so upset by this grilling. I think a 9-pound preemie is more medically feasible than that.

Dwight quickly excuses himself for more booze and Kim declares him a “lyin sacka sh*t” to an amused Cynthia. Sheree & Kandi join the cackle-klatsch and speculate about the bizarre “timeline” Phaedra’s presenting. Kandi is supposed to go to Augusta to see Phae & Baby “on Thursday” and Kim begs to come along, as long as she can smoke in Kandi’s car. “HAYYYell no,” Kandi replies.

NBC-TV Channel 11. NeNe arrives at the ATL affiliate station for a meeting with local anchorwoman Karyn Greer. Apparently at some point NeNe made an appearance on the channel and Karyn’s boss was impressed enough to offer NeNe more opportunities to sass up NBC. But NeNe got caught up in her own fabulousness, time slipped by and she didn’t capitalize on the offer. Now, as an about-to-be-divorced-again desperate Housewife (why do those words put together equal douche-chills?!), NeNe wants another crack at it. She wants a job! “…the whole interviewing thing,” NeNe tells Karyn. I’m sure she sees Miss Andy making money hand over fist (ahem) and is thinking “I can’t do any worse” and “at least my eyes ain’t crossed!”

Not someone you want to fuck with.

Ben Mayer, a Bear labeled “Manager of Content” enters with Ellen Crooke, VP of News, and they ask NeNe what she wants to do. “Entertainment, interviewing celebrities or do some type of talk host panel, interview them at their home, maybe at their workplace”… or whatever mental hospital they might have committed themselves to after members of a certain boy band got them naked in a hotel suite…. “what’s going on in their world” …like any carefully concealed self-inflicted scarring on their nubile, exhausted teen bodies…. “something like gossip entertainment”… like revealing a certain bisexual married-for-a-minute pop superstar hired for her dancing ability in an idiotic new blockbuster was so bored and difficult she forced the producers of the hacky Coyote Ugly/Glitter hybrid to then hire a dance double because this cunty prima donna refused to spend time burlesquing in the wide shots… “that is sort of like my niche!”

Ellen wants to know exactly what NeNe’s “celebrity and entertainment” telejournalism experience is. NeNe mentions that Seacrest called her to do “red carpet at the Emmys, after that The Insider called.” What about her dust-up with Michael Lohan?
NeNe explains that she didn’t realize she was mic’d when she said she didn’t “even like [Papa Lohan] that mich.” As one, her inquisitors raise their eyebrows. NeNe goes on to say ML heard this and responded that he doesn’t like NeNe either. Ellen prissily and condescendingly lectures NeNe about the self-edit button every good celebrity journalist’s brain must possess. Karyn says representing the ATL on TV is a “huge” privilege and NeNe has to prove herself and not come in “with airs”.

“Never!” NeNe gasps. “I’m not even a diva!” Uh-huh. And I was born with these tits. NeNe assures them she won’t be giving stereotypical African-American-lady snaps and neck extensions and that she’ll give 100% to get “a great story”. Ben skeptically asks who NeNe wants to interview. She has a list prepared: Tyler Perry (speaking of stereotypical black women), Mo’Nique (“she lives in my neighborhood”), Jermaine Dupri, some athlete who plays for The Hawks. “As soon as I say I might have some connection to these celebrities, they’re like sharks smelling blood,” NeNe tells us. Sure enough, Ellen says there’s a slot in their newscast for “fun, NeNe-style” segments. NeNe says she hopes this is the start of a long, lucrative partnership. Although considering the current state of NBC, if I were NeNe I would have sent a voiceover tape to Fox‘s hilarious Cleveland Show instead. That new episode about Cleveland Junior and the morbidly obese, scooter-riding neighbor had us roaring at my last ex-teen-model pajama party. (We also watched Slumber Party Massacre Parts II & III, courtesy of the delish Roger Corman Collection box set, because my pal Kimberly McArthur was there and she was brilliant as Amy in Part Deux. Love ya, Kimbo!)

“Kindly direct us to the Fetus Removal Ward?”

MCG Health Hospital. aka My Child’s Gigantic… so get it the hell OUT of me. Phaedra waddles up to the admissions desk where a large, friendly woman with 1984‘s hottest haircut asks how many weeks Phae is. “I dunno,” Phaedra grumbles, the very picture of glowing incipient motherhood. Nurse Carla appears to get Phae “tucked in your room”, which turns out to be as enormous as Phaedra. Apollo thinks it’s great, but asks if it has “Wi-Fi“. Yay, it does! He can scare up some action on Manhunt.net with no hard-to-explain trips to the internet cafe required. Of course something has to be wrong or it wouldn’t be Phaedra– she has issues with the view of “the other side of the hospital”. “That looks like a project,” Phae snips. “They took me to The ‘Hood!” Somebody ought to take her there since she shows all the warmth and enthusiasm of a crack-addled teenager dropping her third trick-baby.

Dr Lue says it’s time for Phae to change out of her designer duds. “I’ve only been to the hospital to visit, so I’m nervous about all those germs,” she ridiculously interviews. Ever heard of the term “hospital-clean”? Shut up, put your birthin’ dress on and have some more Barbarian Cream. Phugla emerges from the bathroom in an amphibian-green hospital gown as she continues to tell us about the horror stories she’s heard about checking in and not checking out, along with her fears about kidnapping. Trust me, she would LOVE someone to take this kid off her hands. And if it gets kidnapped, she won’t have to pay Apollo child-support. This is like the opener of a 2-hour Dateline episode that ends with “eligible for parole in 2047″.

Phaedra’s mom Pastor Regina arrives. Maybe Dr Lue should check if SHE’S unwittingly pregnant with triplets herself. But there’s no time. Phaedra barely has a chance to bitch about the size of her birthing bed before they start “the induction” with a Cervidil vag suppository “to soften that cervix up so the head of the baby can push down and open that cervix up!” And slaughter the entire medical team with its claws and fangs before escaping through a skylight and terrorizing the city. Oh, wait– I’m thinking of It’s Alive. And really, who wouldn’t be?

“Next time you buzz the nurses’ station, tell them you need another shower curtain.”

Channel 11. NeNe is stunned by the crowd gathered together for her “brainstorming” session at Channel 11. NeNe interviews that she’s never worked, so she don’t know nuthin’ ’bout havin’ no meetin’s. But she does know enough to ask for an office. They say they have “a cubicle” for her. To her credit, she doesn’t freak out. Or maybe she’s SO unfamiliar with the world of work she thinks they’re talking about square popsicles in the break room freezer. Ellen Crooke introduces the two photojournalist/producers who have been assigned to NeNe. Ben starts sticking up post-it’s for each celebrity NeNe mentions: Ludacris, Outkast, Steve Harvey, Jermaine Dupri.

But the Holy Grail of local celeb interviewees is apparently Miss Tyler Perry– “he recently invited me to his home and he was so CHARMING… Jayzus!” NeNe ‘drop-gushes. NeNe says she “was shakin” when presented with the Joel Schumacher of African-American films. Note to my black friends: Fight the power and RESIST TYLER PERRY. You don’t have to pretend to like his ham-fisted, Madea-studded, Oprah-approved, church-lady-demographic unfunny bullshit. I said no to Carlos Mencia– it can be done. And by the way, RuPaul is “just waiting for the right woman”, too. What am I implying, you ask? Certainly not that Apollo has skewered TP like a rotisserie chicken. That would be libelous.

Ellen says they’d like to start running these Entertainment ToNeNe segments in about 2 weeks. “I really need to get a big celebrity. I need to land something big, something good, something Atlanta can relate to, I need SOMEBODY,” NeNe tells us. Um, what about superstar whiskey-voiced teen sexpot songwriter Brielle Zolciak?! Surely she can take time out from her busy schedule to grant Aunt NeNe an exclusive interview about what she’s been up to since “Tardy for the Party”, namely going to third base with 8th grade French exchange students.

“According to this read-out, your tannis root levels are through the roof.”

Hospital. Kandi drops by to visit Phaedra, whose water has mercifully broken off-camera. She’s dilated “6 centimeters” and is just “a-waitin”. In a full face of make-up. Kandi says SHE was induced but Riley didn’t come without lots of “pushing”. Kandi asks Pastor Rotunda how many grandchildren she has. This will be the first, Phae explains, since she’s the only one who’s married. Kandi reminds her that this is 2010 and marriage is no longer a pre-requisite for childbirth, but Phae ominously replies “In my family” it is. “Dass Mama’s rooz,” Rotunda confirms. “That’s the pastor, honey,” Phae tells Kandi. “Can’t talk about nuthin with her.” And the method to Phaedra’s madness becomes a tiny bit clearer….

Dr Lue enters, meets Kandi and after Phae says he can do no wrong, he casually mentions that she’s “at 40 weeks”. Even with her OB/GYN standing over her and god-knows-what kind of technology up her cooch, Phae says that A) she didn”t keep up with that “how many weeks along are you?” crap and B) her Atlanta doctors had “different theories than” Lue. “They’re not theories,” Dr Lue chuckle/scoffs. “Kim was right,” Kandi tells us. “The doctor explained everything. She’s DUE. But I guess her mom is just gonna ignore the facts and get over it.” Or eat you all in a righteous fit of rage. Apollo nervously checks his tatted biceps as if worried about wrestling off his super-scary Lord-lovin’ mama-in-law. Kandi leaves so Phaedra can take a nap “before this baby shoots the coop.” Run, Kandi, run… and don’t look back!

“It’s easy, Phae. Count back 9 months then hang your convict-sucking head in SHAME, gurrrll!”

Andretti Indoor Karting & Games. Sheree escorts a group of daughter Kaleigh’s and son Kairo‘s friends to a bumper-car 5th & 8th grade graduation bash. Sheree points out her kids to the staffer unfortunate enough to have been assigned to the event: “the two black ones.” Also attending are Tierra, NeNe and younger, cuter son Brentt, 11, and Sheree’s ex, court-ordered-financial-support challenged pro athlete Bob Whitfield. NeNe gives Bob a hug and tells us she knew him and Sheree when they were a couple, so it’s a little sad to see them divorced, “but they gotta be happy.” Sheree doesn’t seem too happy (when does she?), snipping to NeNe that Bob arrived “five minutes before” Kaleigh’s graduation was over today.

Sheree explains to us that Spades “is a very popular card game in the African-American community”, so she’s having a Spades party and inviting “all the girls”. Damon, Tierra’s boyfriend, asks if this will involve gambling. Sheree’s not opposed to it. Gregg will also be there, but NeNe doesn’t know how good he’ll be at it. Sheree surprises NeNe by saying she’s inviting “the doctor” aka bald-striped charlatan Tiy-E Muhammad, the fraudulent funster she’s been “dating” for the past two or three hundred episodes. NeNe wants details about Tiy: Is he fine? “Does he have a stomach?” We’ve seen him eat, so that’s probably a yes. NeNe means a spare tire of fat, which Sheree tells her isn’t the case. Then Sheree says she’s trying for love, not money, this time. “That ain’t gonna work, like, for rill,” NeNe quickly retorts. Then interviews that “Sheree would never be happy without a man who didn’t make a substantial amount.”

Sheree gives the kiddies a generic inspirational speech then asks if Kaleigh would like to say something. “I like chicken fingers and apple juice,” is the somewhat tard-like reply. But maybe the tot is steering away from controversy to keep Mommie Dreariest from going ballistic. Now it’s time for go-karts and bumper cars and we get the typical “this helmet is squeezing my hair-do/earrings” from NeNe, who yells “I’m claustaphobic!” to general amusement. NeNe is “SCAY-URRD!” but Sheree loves it: “I have a need for speed, I guess,” she cracks. I’m sure the only difference between this and Sheree on the roads of Atlanta is the helmet. NeNe does a lap, shrieking all the way, then hops out in search of a cocktail.

“So I told Arianna, BJ’s are awesome for birth control purposes, but skip the deep-throat stuff if you just woofed down a Beef Nachos Supreme.”

Sidewalk. Kim & NeNe powerwalk. Kim confesses that chubby tween daughter Ariana revealed that a pal of hers just got “the sex talk” from her mother. Kim is nauseated at Ariana’s question: “Is it true that the penis goes in the vajayjay?” To her credit, Kim said yes, then explained how sperm “attaches” to the egg to make a baby. Ariana was reportedly grossed-out to learn “I’m carryin eggs around?!” Then she probably asked if she’s got bacon and pancakes in there, too. And how she can get at them. What? That kid eats like Artie Lange trying to soak up a hangover.

Sheree’s tract mansion. With her “rollers still in”, Sheree answers the door to “the doctor”. It’s Tiy-E’s first visit chez Sheree and he appreciatively checks out the posh-ish digs. Sheree interviews that she was “pretty comfortable” being seen in her robe and curlers by Creepo Suave. “He was a little early, so this is what you get!” she sassily declares. Besides, “I’m not a bad-lookin chick,” so she can rock the housecoat and rollers look. Sheree puts Dr Dreamboat to work setting up a card table and snacks, telling us she’s “very private” so it’s a huge step to let a man into her skanctuary.

Sheree costumes herself in what looks like a designer painter’s smock and comes out to see Tiy-E hasn’t done shit. But he’s curious about the other invited guests. “Some of them are loud, some of them are funny, some them just can’t stop [hand signal for ceaseless chatter].” And some of them are named NeNe Leakes. Who happens to be at the door! Oh, wait– no, it’s Lawrence, superstar weave-dresser and aspiring transvestite pop star! Flawrence wears cut-off shorts and high-heeled clogs. Tiy-E seems quite comfortable around trannies and they immediately begin whooping it up. Next to arrive: Kandi (in the cute version of Sheree’s top), her mom Joyce and the ever-lovely Cynthia and elderly fiance Peter, followed by Tierra and Damon, ex-HW Lisa Wu Hartwell and still-chocolicious hubby Ed, to provide some much needed muscle-slabbed beefcake. Apollo’s done a great job filling in, but I’ve missed my Ed.

“Sheree! You didn’t tell me you had a third daughter!”

Before the game can start, Tiy orders everyone to join hands in prayer. Kandi rolls her eyes (love her!) and Flawrence is so startled he almost drops his lipstick. Tiy prays, we gag. And NeNe enters with sad-sack Gregg in tow. Then it’s the moment they’ve been milking in the previews– NeNe comes face-to-face with Tiy-E, the music goes dramatic, and she says “Don’t I know you from somewhere?!” NeNe interviews that “I recognized him. Not in a good way.” She gives Tiy the stink-eye, saying “I know you, you used to wear dreads.” He confirms this, but she’s already ignoring him. What is UP, chile? Spill it, lady! NeNe confides to Flaw and Sheree that she “did an event with [Tiy] a long time ago. Somethin about him ain’t right. I’m gonna find this out…” She goes back to Tiy and asks if he used to be on TV. Yes, he did The Ricki Lake Show. Something about “love and relationships?” NeNe probes. Uh, yeah, he confirms, slightly flustered. NeNe says they’ll talk more– the game is starting.

Everyone loads up on yummy catered cuisine and takes their seats. Grampa Peter brings NeNe a martini glass full of fruit salad and they exchange “I love you!”s. Sheree tells us she never noticed before how cozy these two are. RE: Cynthia’s possible jealousy, Sheree interviews that “If that was my fiance, I wouldn’t mind, because honestly if you like THIS, you wouldn’t be interested in THAT.” Bitch! Kandi stands up for an important announcement: “Y’all were right. Phaedra was full-term.” As everyone cackles excitedly, Kandi explains that Pastor Rotunda’s “very religious and they’re not allowed to have babies outside of wedlock!” Then Kandi does a hilarious impression of Phaedra acting all confused in front of Big Mama.

The alcohol starts to flow, which is NeNe’s cue to corner Sheree and tell her “there was a huge scandal” about her oily beau, “that he’s a FAKE doctor” without a degree. So everything he’s said is a lie? Sheree stammers. NeNe advises Sheree to keep her cool– they’re all about to play a game. “Who knows what else he’s lying about?” Sheree indignantly interviews. Well, herpes or his lack thereof would be my first guess, but I’m a Recap Artist, not a forensic psychologist. Kandi is also familiar with Sigmund Fraud and tells us that despite his claims, from what she’s heard, Tiy-E is in no way “a doctor”. And his real name is probably Tyrone E Mahaffey. Kandi says he was fired from his gig as a radio romance advisor for lying about his credentials. Sheree grimly interviews that it wouldn’t have mattered to her that he wasn’t a doctor, it matters that he lied. Like you’re doing now, fame ho.

“That’s the man who rubbed up against me in the checkout line!”

Kandi tells us that “everybody had Sheree’s back” and started to quiz Tiy. Flaw asks what kind of doctor he is, and the reply is “psychology, marriage and family therapy. I’m not a shrink,” Tiy quickly adds. Lisa wants to know where he went to school. “Eastern Illinois, Southern Illinois and Ashford University.” Never heard of them, have you, Gasmii? I mean I’ve heard of Illinois. It’s the flyover state where Oprah rules the world from. Kandi tells him to his face that she heard he wasn’t really a doctor. “Like Dr J?” Tiy cracks, to no one’s amusement. And no, Dr J is rich. Lisa says they’re just being protective of Sheree, to which Tiy invites them to ask him anything. They push with the degree question– is he a doctor or not?

He says he has a Ph D in psychology but got into trouble because you can’t call yourself a doctor of psychology in the state of Georgia if you’re not licensed there. So you’re licensed in some other state? No. And by the way, “Ashford University” is an online college. A-hah! Kandi tells us she’s going to look into becoming Dr Kandi on her Macbook. Lisa gets all Inglewood, raucously pointing out that Tiy is sweating. He blames it on the spicy food, but I think the looks of death Sheree’s flinging from the other side of the table are the real culprit. Sheree tells us she’s in deep shock and feels “violated”.

Hospital. Hours have passed and nothing’s happening south of Phaedra’s border, so Dr Lue wants to perform a C-section to extract little Boss Hogg Parks from the womb he’s so understandably reluctant to depart. Lue assures a blank-faced Phae that the “low” incision will be “very cosmetic so you can still wear a bikini”. Please, nothing special on our account, Doc. “Childbirth is the closest you come to death,” Phaedra explains. In Apollo’s case, it was child conception. But you get the point– the control freak is frightened because she’s not calling the shots.

“While you’re down there, how ’bout trimmin up that flappy left labia?”

They wheel Phae into an operating room and Pastor Regina disproves the myth that scrubs flatter one’s figure. “Scalpel,” Dr Lue commands. Is Animal Control on call? Because even though I was joking about It’s Alive, I really wasn’t. Phae yelps in pain and we see flashes of the bloody mess happening between her stubby little legs. “I think that giving birth is a very momentous occasion,” Phae tells us, “but I wouldn’t describe it as beautiful. Because it does involve a little blood and things that aren’t so pretty.” In this case one of those things is Phaedra.

I hate to disappoint you, but they finally pull out the baby and if he has claws and fangs and glowing red eyes, they’re going to take a while to develop. He’s covered with gunk but is quickly dolled up and swaddled and presented to an utterly nonplussed Phaedra. “The first time I looked at him, he just looked Chinese to me,” she complains. Don’t let Miss Inglewood hear that shit, or she will go Crouching Tiger on your mildly racist ass. “But I knew it was my baby, because nobody else was in the operating room.” You have no sense of humor, so don’t try to make jokes. Just shut up and initial the order for him to be circumcised. (And to whomever out there still thinks this is a wonderful idea– you know what else cuts down on the spread of HIV? Safe fucking sex. Deciding to mutilate your child’s genitals because you think he’s going to be doing a lot of barebacking is really putting the cart before the horse-cock. But I digress.)

This is where Phaedra tells them she is NOT cleaning that up.

Phae admits that “caring for another life outside of yourself is a whole different ballgame” than the one she’s used to, in which Apollo also moonlights as a catcher. It’s still all about Phaedra: “I’m definitely a Renaissance Woman and I have it all!” Except the sense to know that term refers to someone who DOES, not has, it all. And so far all we’ve seen you do is mangle the English language, defend rappers for weed trafficking, and sleep with ex-cons before marriage. So please just go phuck yourself.

Next week: Phaedra wants a “fashionable” baby. Sheree confronts “Dr” Tiy. NeNe has stood by Gregg and never done him wrong and this is what she gets.