Having gone over my notes from episode 11, here’s my recap: Beth is keeping Kristen firmly outside The Inner Circle. The End. Oh, also: Carson Kressley is here, and thank goodness he sticks around for The Kountess’ launch party for her new eVine Live fashion line!
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Oh how I miss Carson and the rest of the boys who made Bravo what it is today. {sigh}
The launch pre-party has moved downstairs along with the mannequins, but not before Doritos and Holla inform Mo in no uncertain terms that she was totally out of line to meanly correct Kristen for having had the audacity to ASK whether the vacation dates were or were not in flux due to Beth’s schedule. I mean, God forbid anyone speak to Queen B before she has given them permission to address her! And with such familiarity! There is protocol, people! Doritos, who plainly does not tolerate bullshit, does not hesitate to tell Mo she’s shoveling it out. I am? Mo asks, astounded. Mo’s never given a shit about what someone thinks until Doritos! They go downstairs with Mo suitably chastised. I am newly enamored of Doritos.
So, of course, remains purely enamored with herself, and has skipped The Kountess’ pre-party in favor of extra time on the step-and-repeat. Doritos and Mo snark about the weight she’s put on her ham. “She’s been drinking like a fish!” Holla weighs in. Lu peels So off the s&r and replaces her while Mo links arms with her bestie and goes off in search of RAMONA Pinot Grigio and men. Here’s what they find:
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Me-OW purrs So.
Finally Beth shows up, late, and just in time to find Holla and Doritos talking to Kristen about the confrontation she had with Mo over Beth. Well, actually, says Beth, you spoke to me without permission and there’s protocol, you know. Holla and Doritos slink off to leave Kristen alone with this mess she made. Queen B informs Kristen that (a) she has a sourpuss, (b) all The Queen decreed was that naming her nail polish line something too close to the name of another beauty line no one has really heard of isn’t that great of an idea, and (c) children and pretty girls are meant to be seen and not heard. Snap, snap, snap.
Meanwhile, So is over complaining to Doritos that as an EVENT PLANNER, you guys, she sees all the flaws in this party and would have strung the mannequins from the ceiling so everyone could see the clothes. Except: the clothes. Oh dear. They are “for the masses, not the classes” declares So, who I have totally forgotten has a “high end” fashion line as part of her Empire of Nothing. Not that I don’t agree these “fashions” are looking a bit Dress Barn. Also agreeing is So’s “Swami Priest”, who shoots the whole operation down as “schleppy”. What is a “swami priest”, Doritos wants to know, and why do we care what she thinks? So thinks Lu would care what the swami priest thinks, and accuses Kristen of being the one who’s gonna tell her the swami priest said so. This is gonna be a great vacation.
Things start off well-enough because NYC is socked in with ice and snow, but DELTA AIRLINES was more than happy to provide on-time air travel to the Caribbean for these gals in exchange for inclusion of promotional footage of another Delta jet winging its way over a triumphant mountain range not at all on their route and putting down gently onto a runway nowhere near the Turks & Caicos. Thank you, Delta. From not-there, two Suburbans whisk our ladies a fortress called Bella Vita, brought to you by Minecraft.
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Thank you, Notch. Especially for the delicious chef. Oh, and his culinary productions.
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Drinks are served, and the SoMo Room Monopoly Stampede begins. We’ve all been here before, girls. The hilarious thing about this trip’s Stampede is that all the rooms are essentially identical, and in the end The Kountess gets the marginally-best one, but not before calling Mo a “cow”. Which she is.
Rooms assigned, the ladies change into swimwear and get to it. Kristen plunges into the ocean, alone, and Queen B and the Kountess catch up on the pool deck while Mo recruits an idle looking bystander to be her manservant and makes him unpack. I haven’t had a person unpack me since my mother, and I would be mortified. But as we all know, what mortifies the rest of us never fazes SoMo. Unpacked and strapped into her yellow bikini and wedges, Mo prances out to the pool deck ass-first as Lu provides color commentary and Beth previews Mo’s Nopology.
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Sure enough, Mo is sorry she came across rude to Queen B. Not that she gives a shit if she came across rude to The Kountess. And not sorry enough to switch rooms, either. Beth declares that if Mo was a superhero, she’d be The Apologizer, which pairs her nicely with her roommate, The Repeater. I spy pinot bloat.
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As the sun sets, the Housewives frolic. Queen B and the Kountess attempt to SUP.
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Mo doggypaddles in the pool propped up on a pile of pool noodles, because as we know The Hair must stay dry.
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So mounts an inflatable dolphin and humps.
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Mo gets out of the pool to pelvic thrust some hand weights.
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And then it’s time for dinner. Pretty much everyone shows up in a swim coverup except SoMo, who have gotten all dolled up like a pair of prowling cougars, underthings optional.
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Here’s where things get dicey. Holla has brought Yummie gifts for all, which encourages Queen B to insult her by suggesting she get outta all her successful product lines and focus solely on fitnesswear, an “untapped niche”. Read: one of the few niches in which no Skinnygirl product exists. Holla is already in fitnesswear, thank you, which I know because I get eblasts daily for Yummie workout gear. Holla smiles sweetly and gets a nice return volley in when Queen B corrects her for plunging glassware into the icemaker; it might break and ruin all the ice for shards of glass, you know. Holla takes this one in stride, too; that’s a tip “boozy girls” know that “fashion designers” might miss. SNAP!
Elsewhere, SoMo’s ensembles have prompted questions about whether they plan to go out and pick up dudes after dinner. YES! shrieks So. NO! shrieks Mo. So thinks Mo needs to get laid, a lot. Kristen thinks Mo needs to date, gently. Mo is delighted and astonished that Kristen, of all people, understands her needs. So, on the other hand, is just an inebriated whore who just last week tried to “do” Lu’s friend Yveline’s boyfriend right under Yveline’s nose.
And now we’re off the Ramonacoaster and into the SoMo Shithouse. So explodes “bullshit, bullshit, bullshit” about the suggestion she may have tried to screw some dude and forgot about it. Mo thinks So ought to just drop it because she’s making a scene about something that would otherwise be an unremarkable That’s Just So situation and is going to call attention to the underlying issue, the fact that she was shitfaced, again. While the wise ones walk away and begin dinner on the patio, Queen B decides to take So on and get her straightened out. Good luck.
Basically, Beth tries the gentle, understanding approach; So is under extreme stress, but she’s going too far with how she’s reacting to it. If she doesn’t know she’s going too far, maybe she should at least consider the fact that other people are talking about her behavior and whether that might, possibly, be an indicator that she’s left the reservation. No no no, insists So. She’s not stupid! She’s been in prolonged litigation with “the smartest man in the world”, THAT proves how smart she is!
In fact, So thinks Beth is giving THEM credibility over her! This is what brings Queen B to start shouting “shut the fuck up” over and over and OVER again. Instead, Mo shuts the patio door. Not Lu trying to be reasonable, not Mo trying to make it All About Mo and the pain she is experiencing listening to this squabble circle the crapper can make it stop. No, So will not let go, and she will not acknowledge that there are things she’s been too drunk to recollect clearly if at all, nor that being that degree of blacked-out drunk should be, if possibly true, in and of itself a concern. Nonetheless, Beth thinks they get to some degree of resolved and comes to the table to eat; So, deluded as always, concludes that Beth is simply venting that she, too, is tired of these baseless judgmental accusations constantly being leveled at So by these bitches! RIGHT. People, we’ve only been on the ground about eight hours. Buckle up.
Next time: we go yachting, and someone gets Mo’s hair wet. Mo and Queen B mutually collapse in a puddle of tears, and So goes Bat. Shit. Crazy. No one is safe, kids.
