Sunday, June 05, 2011

RHNY recap: Habibi mother-effers!

Yeah, I googled it.  And that's the English spelling of the Arabic pronunciation of darling.
Habibi.
Damn you Cuntess, damn you.

You know Habibi motherfuckers! was what LuAnn really wanted to say when she popped her little mug up over her bidness-class seat and gave a quick Arabic tutorial.  For whatever reason Morocco is LuAnn's turf.  This is her show. Her gig. The rest of the habibi Housewives are her guests.

And we're her guest too.  At least that's what it feels like. Eff traveling to the other side of the world to a beautiful and utterly foreign land. Our trip of a lifetime is watching these donkeys navigate each other while they're stuck in Morocco. Together. With no escape. I didn't quite "get" the genesis of this trip...I mean, who says: we're all fighting and wanting to kill each other so let's go to Morocco. I understand this was an evil genius producer's idea, but still.  No matter now, I'm on board. Forget Scary Island...maybe it's just an old fashioned mirage, but I'm seeing good things on the horizon of Scary Desert.

Obviously a product placement deal was made with Royal Air Maroc.  The brunettes fly over together because that's what Andy wanted.  Or maybe that's how Bravo got all these crazies to agree to go on this trip in the first place; nobody had to fly with anyone they didn't like? Sounds good, huh?  That flight manifest was the ULTIMATE seating arrangement.  Can you imagine 'Mona trapped in a glorified tin can with Jill...or LuAnn...or Kelly...or Cindy, and it NOT being a total disaster? There are lots of good reasons why they lock those cockpit doors up tight these days...but I think I just stumbled on one more: high altitude 'Mona minus her personal pinot stash. Stuff of nightmares. 

The Bruns (as they will be called henceforth) make their way to the hotel/villa/oasis/harem/whatever the hell you want to call it.  The place is spectacular.  Kelly says something about luminous yellow light...maybe that's were the satchels of gold come from? I don't know. The Bruns ooh and ahh and drink some tea in little shot glasses and do their best to establish good relations with the staff and locals before 'Mona and Sonja land and blow it all straight to hell. They didn't have much time because The Blondes were hot on their trail.

Right out of the gate 'Mona and Sonja are putting out some pretty serious fuckface vibes on the plane.  They're pawing and kissing and praising each other. Plus, I'm pretty sure 'Mona's travel uniform included Jeggings.  Interview-'Mona says she's a little nervous about the trip.  She likes her cotton bedsheets and she must have pinot at all times. What a hick.   But I'm really thinking: don't worry 'Mona, we're all nervous for you, not for the same reasons you just listed but trust me, we're nervous.  There are so many ways this trip could go sideways that even though I'm only four minutes in, my head is spinning.  Spinning in a I'm-sixteen-and-I-just-inhaled-my-first-whippet kind of a way.  So a good way. I'm giddy. I'm not high, but I'm buzzed.

Some people travel and some people vacation. For the most part, I'm a traveler, but I'm not opposed to chilling out in the sun either...twist my arm, right?  Anytrip, 'Mona and Sonja are definitely in the latter category.  Those two want to sit someplace expensive, be waited on, and be pampered like the royalty they think they are.  They want barely bi-lingual servant-people to be at their beck and call. They view vacations as an opportunity to show someone, anyone!, that they're "better than". Of course I never thought about it before, but it makes sense doesn't it?  There is a fine line that must be towed between adventure and respect in order to get the most out of traveling...and Season Four Sonja and Turtle Time haven't got a chance in hell of even understanding where that line is.

Oh gawd this is going to be good and they aren't even on the ground yet!

Oh! I almost forgot: how much did you love it when Alex smiley-sighed and nestled into her seat when she got off the phone Simon right before the plane took off?
I totally got it.  No husband. No kids. Bidness Class to herself. Cool trip.  Too bad the company sucks so hard...

The Blonds land. And Ramona + Sonja = Ramonja kick the ignorance into overdrive.  "Romanja" saves me some typing and makes sense since these dingbats obviously share a brain stem at the moment. Oh, and the J is silent. Anytrip, these two really do love the sound of their own voices, don't they? Interview-Sonja is positive that Morocco is full of fabulous luxury because she has friends who have homes there...the obvious conclusion being that Sonja's friends' home ownership automatically means the locale is superbly fabuluscious and luxuritastic.  Duh. But once she gets an eye full, she's not so sure...
Sonja: We may as well be in Quogue.
Alex: and here I thought I left my kids at home to polish the piano.
Ramona: ...when Mario and I role play Sultan Sex Slave he 
loves it when I cinch my burka to accentuate my rejuvenated curves.
Of course the car ride from the airport is riddled with Ramonja's ignorant  and catty comments.  So predictable.  Alex was appropriately mortified, telling us it was as though they never traveled before and they don't care who they offend. My patience for Alex is running real thin...I mean does she really need to travel to the other side of the world to grasp the common sense fact that neither one of these nitwits ever cares about who they offend? Sonja of the pecking order? 'Mona of the...everything she's ever done? Wake up Alex. But then again, beggars can't be choosers.  'Mona starts tweaking because she  sees...dust and poverty. Dust, in the desert. Poverty, in a third world country. Amazeballs 'Mona, you ignoramus. Sonja eases 'Mona's fears by pointing out that that gardens are getting lush and the staff is out to greet us in the MOST high handed and demeaning (to the locals) manner. 

The opposing bottled-hair-colors reunite, and meet and greet at the harem..  New-Hairdo-Jill tells the camera that she needs to have a talk with Ramona.  Really Jill? You had to come to Marakesh to talk your shit through with 'Mona? And this isn't even Manhattan 'Mona, this is Vacation 'Mona which is a different ball of wax all together. 
Finally, we're in the same city. Let's tawk.
Then Ramonja unpack.  What a clusterfuck. 'Mona called ahead to make sure that her sheets had the proper thread count and a maid was waiting to unpack for her--she doesn't shut up about her independence, about how making her own money is an aphrodisiac and she can't handle unpacking? But then I understand why when I watch her pull shit out of her suitcase like  Mary effing Poppins pulled junk out her carpet bag in the nursery.  Literally. Jewelry stands of her crap costume jewelry...the little velvet ones like they have on the counters in department stores at the mall.  What is she going to do? Head down to the local bazaar to peddle her wares while she's on vaca? You think I'm joking, but I wouldn't put it past her.  Do they have pyramid schemes in the Middle East? Something's telling me: no.

The maid/personal assistant instantly understands 'Mona's sanity is non-existent ...eye rolls are a universal language and that poor woman was throwing  her eyeballs around in a pretty spastic manner.  I am for real when I say this excursion to the Middle East may have actually set back the Muslim population's opinion of Westerners.  Mona's rants have gone global and they will  reflect poorly on all of us. 
Then the maid, who at this point might actually be suffering from a 'Mona induced epileptic seizure, gets an earful from her evil mistress about hangers.  Fast forward to Cindy marching into the heart of darkness and accusing 'Mona of stealing her hangers. Did someone take my hangers? I know someone went into my personal space! Look Cindy, I get what you're saying and all about your space. And I get that you're currently the "boring normal one", but you're on a trashtastic reality show about wacked out, rich-ass broads soooo we're ALL in your personal space more or less.  But I'm going to let you pick this fight with 'Mona cause you're a good shit.  Ramona flits around like a half maimed moth to a flame and crazy bug-eyes her accuser, per usual. Cindy rushes back to the Bruns and, with more passion than I've ever seen from Dead Pan Barshop, warns her crew to put their hangers on lock down: Ramona's got it all over Joan Crawford.  There is an overabundance of sUriously? sUriously Ramona?! but Cindy settles down eventually.
LuAnn! Look. At. Me. I'm wearing a kaftan! I changed at the AIRPORT!
So can you take me with you? Isn't that what a good hostess would do?
I'll bust a tube of Nice N' Easy: Chestnut if that's what it'll take!
LuAnn floats in on a bed of gauzy kaftans to ref the hanger junk.  She makes light of it and moves on...she's a veteran. She knows you have to pick your battles with Ramona...and it's not going to be hangers.  Is it just me or is Travel LuAnn less cunty than Manhattan Cuntess? Or is just all the luminous yellow light that's messing with me? LuAnn does take issue with the fact that Romonja get all sketchy and transparently try to ditch the Bruns by going for a ride...in the desert.  Of course we know that the dust and poverty freaked 'Mona the eff out, but the Cuntess doesn't know that.  No matter, these cows need to have something to fight about so it may as well be Romanja's fake ride in the desert. 

The Bruns say eff it and go shopping. Where they just happen to run into...Jill's gay husband from seasons past, Brad Boles! You know, the whiny, flamboyant kiss-ass who turned Jill and Bawbee's Manhattan apartment into a metallic-seafoam and champagne NIGHTMARE? Remember...

Brad. In a random shop. IN MOROCCO.

It's kisses and dahlings...excuse me, habibis...and I-can't-believe-its! all around. Apparently Brad spends oodles of time in Morocco with his French friends.  That's a lie, I'm sure of it. But we'll go with it.  He says he has a house in Marakesh, and he has a birthday...sooooo that means he's HAVING A PARTY! Tonight.  And of course the HouseHarem is invited...including 'Mona even though she was rude to him once up on a time.  Brad, you're talking in tongues my spazy friend. 'Mona? Rude? Never. 
What are the odds, huh? 
What. Are. The. Odds.



Sidebar: Where the hell was Alex all day? I know no one cares, but in a foreign land shouldn't  they have implemented some sort of buddy system, right? I mean, safety first bitchez.

That night, whilst primping for Brad's soiree, LuAnn announces she has a surprise for everyone.  She's pissed  Romanja is three sheets to the wind and not paying attention to her surprise...instead Sonja and  'Mona are sloppy-drunk curling each other's hair in their rooms like a bunch of prissy teenage whores who nipped from their dads' liquor cabinets for the umpteenth time.  But the Cuntess doesn't fret for long, because 'Mona blows through the doors shouting where's my wine?!? WHERE'S MY WINE?!? Sonja brings in the caboose of the wasted cougar train and starts slinking and winking and rubbing up against anything and everything. Vomit.

LuAnn's surprise is...'Mona is going home. Bon voyage Turtle Time!

NO. That's a lie.  The real surprise is that LuAnn brought in Morocco's foremost kaftan designer to the HouseHarem and he's going to rig something up for these Western ingrates.  With the duds LuAnn has  been sporting since her arrival I don't doubt that her connection to this dude is real, and not some Bravo jerry rigged coincidence.  Or maybe it is.  Eff it.
No Sonja, this isn't a special man-kabob for you to gnaw on,
this is a d-e-s-i-g-n-e-r that I''m willing to SHARE with you all.
You hear that 'Mona? Share. A. Designer. 
'Mona tells him outright that she doesn't like kaftans. She prefers to squeeeeeeeze into the same clothes as her 14 year-old daughter.  Sounds about right, huh? Luckily the poor designer only speaks French and isn't fluent in Turtle Time.  
Kaftan this, motherfuckers!!
Drunken-slutty-Sonja instantly morphs into a full on sexual predator when she catches a whiff of the kaftan designer's man-stink. Sadly there's no language-barrier for her body language.  Her lips pucker uncontrollably and her nipples point when he is forced take her measurements. Hazard of the job I guess.  THESE are my boobs, she tells him triumphantly while she wiggles her saggy fun bags in his stunned, culturally conservative face. Where's your mouth Sonja? Huh? Found it yet? Now SHUT IT you piece of trash. She's giving women a bad name and that pisses me off. No joke.

For the second time so far on this trip Alex is dismayed by Romanja's mind-numbing ignorance and tacky behavior. It must be hard for her, because of her hair color and all.  Interview-Alex tells us she was mortified by them and couldn't believe her ears when Ramanja dismissively asked the designer to put another log on the fire because none of the house staff was available to do it. Would you ask Marc Jacobs to put a log on the fire?!  I don't know if that's quite the point Alex, but you're headed in the right direction. 
say wha?
Alex tries to capture the teachable-moment by getting the log (from 15 feet away!!) herself and putting it on the fire.  Alas, Romanja has the attention span of a sand flea and they've moved on to discussing the size of the house: IT'S UWGE says 'Mona. Not huge, but rather: uwge.  

Does the fun ever start?

Well since you ask...
One time lapse later and the HouseHarem is lamely marching through the streets of Marrakesh Sex-and-The-City-style on the way to Brad's birthday party at his Morocco house. Or rather his KINGDOM, as he kept referring to it. Welcome to my Kingdom!! to everyone who walked in the door. Kingdom, kingdom, kingdom...who else has used that term recently? Where have I heard that before? Oh yeah:
Looks nice.

But  that  was Jesus's Kingdom...and this is just Brad's Kingdom. BIG difference: it turns out that by my kingdom Brad really means: my bed and breakfast. And it's not so much his bed and breakfast, it's rather the bed and breakfast that he's staying in while he visits Marrakesh at the same time as the Housewives. He has no house. None. Jill points out that Brad has been know to exaggerate so the oversight is excused. Whatever.

These fucking people.

'Mona is a drunken mess. And Sonja has turned the humping and sexual wink-wink-nod-nods up to levels only previously found at The Best Little Whore House in Texas. Sooo...Defcon One.  Understand? To be blunt, it was pathetic and sad and gross and wrong.  At one point some poor soul tried to take the HouseHarem's picture, the button on the camera sticks.  Sonja's solution to the problem? Presssssssss hhhharder...pressssssss hhhharder...she tells the poor man over and over and over again.  And the whole time she's giving him old-lady-sexy-eyes and twisting, turning, and contorting her body and face in the MOST unbecoming manner. Of course she thinks it's sexy.  Ugh.  This act of hers is getting really old.  

Then there's a brew-ha-ha about the van ride over to the Kingdom. Seems that Sonja and 'Mona ganged up on Cindy...and Cindy's a little worked up about it. Why she's pissy, I don't know because I can't believe she hasn't figured out the deal with Ramonja yet.  But once again, Cindy's all sUriously? sUriously?!? to Ramonja because Sonja made fun of her veneer-tragedy that sidetracked their shopping/lunch date once upon a time...who gives a fuck? 

However the best part of this whole deal is sober-Interview-'Mona defending Sonja and herself: it was just a funny antidote, I mean...lighten up!

Wait, what?

A what? And ANTIDOTE??? You mean: it was just a funny "something that counteracts or neutralizes an unpleasant feeling or situation"? Because that's what you said. Or maybe, just maybe, you mean ANECDOTE. But then again, maybe she really did think that harassing Cindy and her veneers in the van on the way to not-Brad's-house in Marrakesh would somehow counteract an unpleasant feeling.  Come to think, it's possible she really did think that.  Wonderful.  Please keep in mind this is Interview-'Mona who made this mistake. This is as coherent and lucid as she gets. This is it.  Her Pinot-soaked mind is maxed the eff out. Maxed out like the Bellino's Black AmEx card.  
Akeelah and The Bee
Moving on.

Brad busts out some entertainment: snake charmer! It's pretty cool. I loathe snakes, but this was pretty damn cool.  The HouseHarem is entranced.  Brad tries to kiss the snake but is too much of a pussy to completely pull it off. The snake starts spewing some junk all over the place, so of course somewhere in the back of not-Brad's-house Sonja takes her head of Aalam's crotch and asks is that venom or semen? Okay, the first part was a lie, but she did ask about the venom like an old drunken 50 dollar hooker taking her last gasp at bringing sexy back.  

Jill gets into it. Big time.
What? It's like a belt!









And she's pretty funny about it too.  Jill's been quite tolerable thus far this trip.  Maybe she just seems normal by comparison to the ragging rants of Ramonja.  That's probably it, right?  Just like LuAnn. And Kelly too. 


Ramonja has turned HouseHarem reality on it's silk-turban-clad head.

The last gig of the night is a fortune teller.  And she's got it going ON.  She may be the real deal.  But then again it may be the fact that she doesn't speak English.  And that she's wearing a a full-on head-to -toe midnight-black burka.
I'd believe her.
She tells Jill that she has a big heart, and thank goodness because she talks too much.  Fair enough. Then she tells Sonja that money isn't life, don't look for the money. Interesting. 
And by the way, it's at this point that I notice that Sonja appears to be speaking with some sort of European accent.  Totally random, but it just adds to her immense sexiness...don't you think? Anyharem, the fortune teller tells Kelly that she will have a third child.  There are 324 jokes to be made about Kelly's fortune, but we're (FINALLY) getting to the end of this post and I'm dead tired.

But wait, best for last.  Next is 'Mona.  Kelly is supposed to translate for her.  But the fortune teller speaks and Kelly freaks, grabs her jelly beans, and bolts.  No translation.  

Have no fear.  LuAnn is MORE than happy to translate for 'Mona.:
You think of your husband, but there's another woman.

Eff me.
And Mario too.

So there you have it kittens.  My pathetically late recap of the HouseHarem's first week in Morocco.  Don't hate. I haven't even watched week two yet, but I will soon.  As soon as I'm done with the OC...which is on in about 30 minutes.

I can't get away from these women.  They're everywhere. 

4 comments:

  1. Love it! Last nights ON was mildly entertaining with all that booze throwin' goin on. Should make for an interesting Reunion next week. WHOOT!!!

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  2. Absolutely. Last night could've been boiled down to about 20 minutes, but where's the ad revenue in that? I'm looking forward to the reunion, and Donn's post-split confessional. Did she just drop D-papers on him out of the blue? No sit-down, no nothing?!? That's tragic.

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  3. HAHAHA. "eye rolls are a universal language and that poor woman was throwing her eyeballs around in a pretty spastic manner"

    I was hollering in my family room about Ramona's "antidote" too. Bonehead. xo

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  4. mona's travel jeggings.... ughh. I was looking at them the whole time she was pulling her shitty old hot mess jewelry out of her luggage. Pretty sure she was wearing one her bedazzled jewelry line tshirts at one point too. Klass.

    ReplyDelete

Have at it darlings...