Real Housewives of Orange County Recap – 6/8/15

Speaking of Tamra, the woman’s got some regrets and we’ll get to them all in a moment, but can I first marvel (which is a nice way of saying that I’m about to pass judgment on her) about how nobody in the universe wears more clothing with angel’s wings and crosses than she does while simultaneously behaving even more frequently like an unhinged demon? But hold onto your holy water, people! Tamra is feeling down. She misses so many things. She misses having a baby of her own. She misses the toxic friendship she and Vicki used to have when they were screaming into the faces of the other women like a deranged duo. She misses being able to say what she wants without having to own any accountability. And she really misses having the kind of t*ts that make her feel an “oomph” whenever she unzips her hoodie with the angel wings to show off the tank top with Jesus’ face.

Luckily, some problems can be solved, so we meet up with Tamra again after a hiatus that went by far too quickly. She is in her kitchen and she unzips her hoodie and removes her bra so her husband can take a picture of her deflated boobs that have had implants put in and taken out so often that the doctor should have just put in a strip of Velcro. And really, when you have lost a child in a bitter custody battle and everybody thinks you’re a piece of sh*t, it’s good to do some work on yourself, right? Why not start with your nipples?

Before she heads out for surgery, her daughter-in-law calls. Ryan met this woman Sarah on Instagram, which is fine and all in this modern technological age, but, um, have you all seen Ryan? I’m having a tremendously hard time imagining that his face in a picture caused a woman far away to first swoon and then fall massively in love, but I guess it’s a sweet story and now it gives me hope that the homeless meth addict will too find love. Anyway, Tamra and Sarah are very close now since nobody else wants to talk to Tamra and plus, Sarah is nine months pregnant and, as far as Tamra (who is crazy) puts it, “Now I’m getting my baby!”

Can one call Child Protective Services while a baby is still in utero?

Sarah, I don’t know you, but I’d like to take a second to speak to you directly: your mother-in-law is insane. If you leave your child alone with her, she might get it implants. She will deck the baby out in onesies that have crucifixes dangling off the feety part of the outfit. She will whisper that it’s not her fault that she is so honest and so bold. She will hold that baby close and wish it was Vicki holding her back and your baby might try to emancipate itself from the entire Instagram/Housewife family before the age of three.

With my public service message complete, it’s time to watch part of a breast augmentation and then see a drowsy and drugged woman in recovery. Can nothing be off-limits, ladies? Woozy, Tamra tells the cameras and the nurse how it’s weird not to have her friends there like they were during her last breast surgery. “Don’t worry, Tamra,” I called out to my television screen, “I’m sure they will be there the next time you pay to have your t*ts professionally deflated!”

Away from the hospital, Vicki and Shannon meet up for drinks and appetizers. Vicki looks good. She’s cut her hair and I can’t even see a hint of her areolas and sure, she tosses out that she’s wearing Chanel, but I’m just so grateful that she’s not decked out in her usual spandex sh*t that I almost applauded. And Shannon? Well, Shannon looks the same as she did last year except thinner and sadder – which I actually didn’t believe was something that could be possible. Over oddly colored drinks, Vicki tells Shannon that Vile Brooks has moved in with her and Shannon responds in a way that is, I guess, kind. She tells Vicki she’s happy for her and kind of nods as Vicki tells her that people can change and evolve, which is sad-hilarious (instead of hilarious-hilarious) coming from a woman like Vicki who we have watched for almost a decade and the woman hasn’t really changed at all. Vicki explains that her daughter is still not on board with her mother being in love with the man who cavorted with strippers and allegedly cheated on her and called Vicki terrible names and then suggested the beating of Vicki’s firstborn, but Vicki has decided that this is her life and she must live it in a way that feels right for her.

A few things cannot be ignored here:

1. Shannon orders a dry salad because she won’t allow herself any yeast, and I just hope that all of her remains yeast-free, which is something I didn’t expect to have to hope for while watching Bravo – but really it was just a matter of time.

2. Vicki’s daughter Briannna (I don’t know if her name is spelled with one “N” or with two “N’s” but I have always found her to be the absolute smartest person to ever appear on this show, so I’m intentionally giving her three “N’s” because she’s f*cking earned them), upon hearing that Brooks had cancer, believed that he was making up a diagnosis. That’s a hefty charge right there, and when we see Brooks later on, the guy is obviously truly sick or a seriously amazing grifter to have lost all that weight for a long con – but what seems very interesting and very sad to me is that Briannna would not level that charge against just anyone. It really says far more about Brooks and what this normal woman believes him to be capable of than the fact that Briannna is too suspicious for her own good.

3. The second that Vicki uses Shannon and David’s newly-repaired marriage as a sparkling example of how people can evolve, Shannon begins glugging her drink so she doesn’t have to say anything and it might take a person who was concurrently blind, deaf, hungover, and on day six of a juice fast not to see that Shannon is f*cking miserable and that nothing in her life has gotten anything but worse.

Back at home after dinner, Vicki walks into the kitchen and kisses Brooks hello. Douchebag or not, he looks like sh*t and it’s sad because allegedly he’s a human being and cancer is a truly awful illness to go through and to watch as someone you love deals with all that it brings. But it’s hard to stay focused on Brooks’ health when I keep getting sidetracked by the bevy of clues that hint at Vicki’s lapsed (or never fully-formed) mental health. See, she says things like she hates being alone and she wants someone to be there when she gets home and later on she asks Brooks if he’s happy that he’s not single as he deals with all the hardships that have fallen into his path. It’s never a question like, “Aren’t you so glad to be with me?” or a sentence like, “I feel so fortunate to have you in my life.” They really might as well just look at one another and say, “Thank goodness we both settled because being alone is so hard.”

Before we get to the married couple who might really want to reconsider embracing true solitude, let’s meet the newest Housewife! Meghan is young and she’s really pretty and she wears less makeup than her stepdaughter and she’s educated; I worry that being on this show might destroy her. She is friends with Heather and Terry and she meets up with them for dinner while her husband, a baseball player, is out of town. Now, I’m a huge baseball fan, but in my world what that means is that I know all of the Yankees and which players on the Red Sox I’m supposed to hate, so I don’t know who Jim Edmonds is, but I’ll take everybody’s word for it that he’s a big baseball deal. Meghan is Jim’s third wife and he is much older than she is and she moved from Missouri to Orange County and seems to feel somewhat displaced. Sitting at dinner with a plastic surgeon, she brings up that maybe she needs some Botox (she doesn’t) and I almost wrote her off in that moment, but then Meghan did something I never see happen on this show: she ate. She literally put food in her mouth, chewed it, swallowed it and then didn’t book towards the bathroom. Like an eclipse, I tried not to look at it too closely for fear that I’d spontaneously go blind, but I know it happened and – despite what she ends up pulling when she meets the creatures like Tamra and Vicki later this season – I have decided that Meghan is fantastic. I just hope she doesn’t turn out to be a giant assh*le.

Speaking of giant assh*les, one stuffed with hemorrhoids might be a classier place to hold a baby shower than at the gym you own that’s been decked out to look like a hoedown. I have maybe never seen anything as awful as the shower Tamra threw for her new baby that’s currently being carried by a woman who has no idea how insane of a family she has married into. Now, I know that I might have me some standards, but can’t everyone see the inherent ickiness in throwing a party that has food and drinks in a place where people sweat all over the floor? How is such an event even allowed to transpire? And should we laugh at her or cry for her that Tamra refers to the décor as “shabby-chic” when we all know good and well that calling that farm-in-a-sh*tty-gym “chic” is a joke?

(Oh, we’re laughing at her? Someone took a vote? Does it matter that I voted to laugh at her twice?)