“This is an insurmountable problem,” observes Dr. Terry, before telling her that she is living in a “reality distortion field” like Steve Jobs. At least she isn’t going around barefoot and refusing to shower while subsisting on a diet of exclusively apples. Just wrap it up in lettuce, thanks. But our Dr. Terry, unlike a certain fatty whose name may or may not rhyme with Thumbelina, is ultimately a supportive husband. He’s not sure about this Canadian angle, but he wants his lady to do what makes her happy and be who she is, which is an ARTIST. So if they have to get a pair of nannies, pull the kids out of school, and get them tutored on the set of a crappy sitcom, then dammit that’s what the Dubrows are gonna do.
Such is not the case for poor Assy Bellino, who picked the wrong boss, that’s for sure. Knowing she’s gotta put Jumbo in a good mood for the issue she’s about to breach, Assy brings her man a delicious glass of fresh, wet water and interrupts his challenging work scanning plans for a tramp park. “I want a coach,” she stammers, illustrating the issue nicely. “How does that fit into being a wife and mother?” asks Jumbo. Assy is sort of bored being a wife and mother, to tell the truth, and views her Hocastering gig as a stepping stone to her inevitable future as the Next White Oprah. Jumbo, mustering up all the patience he can dredge up for his silly filly, gently suggests to Assy that she is taking on more things that affect the family. What’s next, rehiring a nanny? Why get a nanny when you can do this crap for free? Assy meekly ventures that she likes her “careers”, and increasing her commitment from one day to two will generate cash. “We don’t need the money,” Jumbo harrumphs convincingly. “Is money worth the time away?” You know, he’s right. Fetching water like Tattoo for Jumbo’s Mr. Roark is enough to fulfill any girl’s deepest sense of purpose and meaning. Nevermind, sorry she asked.
Enough of this BS, let’s go to Vegas, baby! Even Vic’s packing up her age-inappropriate Bebe wardrobe and ready to ignore the elephantine presence of the Deadbeat Babydaddy Issue in order to witness this humiliating debacle firsthand. Gretch is already there, in fact, wiping down her hands and every other exposed stretch of flesh in the back of the official Pussymobile. She’s so psyched because the Pussycat Dolls are, like, iconic! It’s like being a Playmate – once you are a PCD, you are always a PCD, like Christina Aguilera, and Pink! (That thunder you hear is the sound of Jeana’s eyes rolling back in her head.) Gretch is dressed like an old diaper in a mustard suit with poo-brown suede boots. After toasting the Strip with a glass of Discobitch champagne in their comped Cosmopolitan suite, Gretch feels like a star. You just wait, honey.
The next day the rest of the Hos arrive and are herded into a stretch Escalade. Tammy’s in the market for an Escalade, you know, until she hears that Assy is currently renting one. “She has a new car every 21 days! Is that how long it takes to repo?” Tamra crows. Oh, ZAP! You funny girl! But she does have a point. Heather asks what Jumbo does and is advised that he’s an “entrepreneur”. So is everyone else in the limo, except Dr. Terry, who is a doctor. You know who else is an entrepreneur? Don “Magic” Juan. Google it.
So anyway, Heather’s a little worried about Gretch because this is kind of a big deal, right? I mean, she is a singer, right? “Well, yeah,” says Tamra. You know, she had that one song on iTunes. But she’s still struggling with her voice after yelling at Vic five weeks ago about babydaddies and genitalia. Our Gretch is many things, says Vic: a realtor, a dancer, a songwriter, a singer, a makeup distributor, a purse designer, a space cowboy, a gangster of love, a joker, a smoker, and a midnight toker. And has big huevos. She’s well-prepared, in other words. This should be fun.
Before the big show, though, there’s going to be a rehearsal. “Work it, strippers!” shouts Magic Mike, the Pussy Boss. He tells Gretch to start her song at the beginning of the verse and gives her the choreography: “Walking – walking – how y’all – what’s up, Vegas! – work it work it work it – bump bump bump – hip hip hip – Fosse Fosse Fosse!” Gretch is having a hard time doing multiple things at once, like breathing and moving her arm. Magic Mike advises her to stop moving, just hold onto the pole, and for God’s sake don’t let sound come out when you open your mouth. Strippers don’t sing, girl!
The fiasco-preparation-drill wound up, Gretch and the MPM meet the Gimps and Hos in the VIP welcome area of the Cosmopolitan. (I bet Adrienne Maloof is SO MAD about this.) Vic tells Gretch she is so proud of her about thirty times and totally perplexes the poor girl. Then she shouts a birthday “woo hoo!” at the Magical Penis, who goes limp with shock. Gretch tells Heather, who has previously performed onstage four to five nights a week with a 14-piece big band, how hard it is to actually sing on stage. Well, yes, dear, Heather consoles, patting her on the arm.
The Jumbelinos had to hitchhike separately because of their childcare issues, but now they’re here. Assy needs professional help covering those black eyes of hers so she’s got some poor serviceperson up in her room applying shellac. Assy doesn’t want to look “go-go-ish”, whatever that is. She’s striving for her usual sexy/sultry/naturally saucy look. All about the nature, that earthy girl. And thus she ends up with tinfoil eyes and a layer of ecru face paste so thick she can’t move her earthworm lips. I thought maybe she just didn’t have the mascara on yet, but no, it’s a disaster, pure and simple. After Jumbo goes all gorilla and chases the poor hired help out, Assy scrapes off the paste and they head downstairs. But she kept the eye makeup, cause it looked classy Assy!
As the Jumbolinos arrive at dinner, Tamra shares with the world that Jumbo got a chin implant! He does look a little different – I thought it was Rogaine. For her part, Assy likes Tamra’s new boobettes. Jumbo and Donn2 meet and greet and become instant friends. Actually, everyone seems to be doing reasonably well with Jumbo tonight, which is nice. I really prefer it when people at least try to get along. Donn2 tells Jumbo a weird nonstory about some “affirmation” he recently texted Vic in hopes she would reply and he could start charging her cell $3.99 per message instead of shelling out for all these damn Hallmark cards. “The eagle flies at dawn”, he whispers. No one gets it. Jumbo and Dr. Dubrow then bond over having had to spoo in a cup for IVF. But the Bellini will see the Dubrows’ clinical visit and raise them an at-home deposit! Assy shares that Jumbo’s wife helped, and that Assy herself then held the sperm between her legs in the car to keep it warm while they drove it to the doctor’s office. Vic leans over and throws up in Eduardo’s lap.
Backstage at the PCD’s Gretch is getting her Dolly Parton hair fluffed and her boobies rearranged by Marva from “There’s Something About Mary”. My sister has an elderly hooker who tans in the park across the street from her house anytime the temp breaks 54°. Same look. After praying with Assy (because what better purpose is there for God’s juju than blessing a girl to have a great Pussy show?) Gretch is ready. Break a leg, kitty cat!
Next time: Gretch is a lot of things, but a singer she may not be. Vic gives her 50% apology, Heather confides that she thinks Assy is a bony phony, and Briana reveals that she has taken a Mister. Adios, hippos!
Written by: Elizabeth Spilotro
Website: www.thislittlemama.com
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i just realized that heathers husband dr. terry debrow was the plastic surgeon on the reality show bridalplasty on the e network.i knew i had seen him before.