Tuesday, April 26, 2011

RHOC recap: isn't happening (THIS WEEK!!) in the manner to which you've grown accustomed, and here's why...

I don't know who this man is, but I think I've found a friend.

My usual phrase of choice is:
(when I'm feeling really bad I usually put a "used" in between giant and tampon)

But this picture suits my purposes just fine.
Thank you kind stranger.
I've found comfort in your twisted and pervy and utterly tasteless costume.

I feel like a nasty combo of what Jim Bellino likely smells and looks like when he's bare-ass naked roasting in his tanning bed in the basement of his latest soon-to-be foreclosed upon McMansion.
I hope that makes sense for you guys, because it's crystal clear to me.

I'm about one quarter of the way through my recap, and since it's become increasingly difficult to type while in the fetal position, I've crapped right out.

It was a kind of boring episode anyway. Here's what happened:
  • It's Gretchen's birthday. Slade's broke-ass tried to get creative for a gift but it flew right over that loudmouthed, ignorant ingrate's head. I actually thought the concept was kind of cool, but I'm just a giant tampon so what do I know?
  • Vicki's life is so boring these days we got to follow Brianna around the most stale, useless trip to Vegas ever...while Vicki mother-hens her to death via text and voice mail. The worst.
  • Tamra and Peggy walk in a local fashion show. Tamra kind of rocked it and Peggy's arm somehow limps when she's strutting the catwalk. Tamra called it a pimp walk. Right on, right on.
  • Tamra hates Jeanna because Jeanna is friends with Simon. BTW Jeanna finally lost some weight, yet still looks like a bloated, sleepy, allergy riddled alchy. Someone get that sad sap a Claritin, a hanky, and some hair of the dog what bit her.
  • Vicki and Alexis talked out the pepper spray incident. It was adult for a hot minute until Vicki went all bitch ass condescending on Alexis about her dress line: Alexis Couture.  Incidentally, Alexis Couture is also the name of a porn star. No joke.  And not a hot one (hot in a porn star kind of a way of course), but one of the big ones with long-boobs and coconut-nipples. Jesus Barbie is going to have pray real hard on that one.
  • Something else she's going to have to pray on is the definition of couture. She's got her own version of what it means and it's wrong. Dead wrong. It went something like: ...screbly-do ...   couture...intiwaty.... is.... regtilly....super...yowzilldop....rich. Rough Brassy  translation: couture is clothes that is really rich [sic]. For realz. If I wasn't a giant tampon I'd feel sorry for her, but I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself at the moment. Dear Father God...teach me the ways of the Parisian couturiers.
  • Last year Tamra kissed Fernanda in a bathroom.  Weird. No one is the entire world cares, except for Fernanda's then wife. Bravo is going to try and make us care.
  • Alexis cut the sleeves off a FUGLY dress her seamstress made for her line. It was a super mean thing to do, but I'm sure baby Jesus told her to do it so it's okay. The seamstress cried and cursed while shaking an an angry fist toward the heavens and shouting something about el diablo Bellino blah blah blah.

Instead of the Housewives, I've found something much better to do with my time.
I eat these trough-style in my kitchen sink.

I bought them at the check-out at Home Goods.
You know how you always want to, but then you're all:
Who buys chocolate at Home Goods?!
And you slowly and shamefully walk past.

Well I went to Home Goods specifically to buy this chocolate.
And let me tell you, it's juuuuust fine.

I opted for the Dark Collection because I'm no fool.
I like the variety packs too.
Very nice Ghirardelli.

Will any of you be into this bidness on Friday? 
I'll be at a viewing party.
One of my very dearest friends is an anglophile in the worst way.
It's a sickness.

What she doesn't know is that the Intervention crew will be crashing and she'll be half-way to a really nice place in Arizona, sans shoelaces, before Waity Katie's veil is even lifted.
But I'm not in the posse that brings her to the airport in the blacked out minivan so I'll catch the nuptials and report back with anything I deem appropriate.

Or we'll just hash out RHNY since next week's looks good.
Is Jill coming back to stir a little shit up?

I must go spoon my laptop and download old episodes of MI-5.
Rupert Penry Jones will cure what the chocolate can't.
(peekaboo...I see you too, you little rascal)

Still love me even though I'm gross and lazy? 'Cuz I love you kittens.
Brassy out.


  1. Royalty Rehab?? Will I get my Tatler & Hello subscriptions forwarded there? What about my Wellies? Can I bring those? And my Barbour jacket? And my stalker photo of Harry from my little "run" in with him in Central Park? What makes you think this is an illness??

    Will RPJ be driving the Range Rover to come pick me up?

    Can't wait sweets. The tiara is being shined, and the nails will be painted waity katie pink.

  2. Does the term "self incriminating" mean nothing to you? Your comment will only strengthen my power of attorney case. Pack your bags sweets.

    Glad you could get past the human vagina and make your way to the comments.


Have at it darlings...