Real Housewives of Orange County Recap – 9/26/16

It’s hard sometimes to figure out who you can make yourself root for, isn’t it? I mean, on the one hand, you’ve got someone who seems to have a rather tenuous relationship with the truth. There are scores of examples throughout the years that illustrate (at best) some colorful evasiveness and (at worst) some boldly bellowed lies. How can you feel comfortable putting your trust into a person so many people emphatically don’t trust? On the other side, though, stands a raving lunatic. The word “bombastic” comes to mind when this face graces the television screen. Every single time this person speaks, rage bursts out along with some spittle. Worse than having to wipe your cheek from all that airborne saliva is attempting to decipher what it is that’s even being said since apparently about 90% of this individual’s statements and proclamations are chronically misinterpreted. Don’t be silly! you’ll be told. Nobody was being insulted! Of course that thing that was said, the one that caused entire populations to cower in both fear and disgust, was purely said in jest! Do you not comprehend sarcasm? And really, how could anyone possibly think this person is inciting violence with words? This person is an excellent parent! Does that little factoid not cancel out all the other flaming despicableness?

I know you must all think I’m talking about Clinton and Trump since it’s debate night and our nation is currently careening toward an epic conflagration of political and social misery, but my statements are in fact about our Orange County Housewives – and I fully expect one of them to be on the ballot by 2024 because I’ve come to believe anything is possible in what I’m certain has got to be a Bizarro World we’ve all stumbled into by refusing to turn away from gluten. Sure, Kelly Dodd and Donald Trump have a few things in common. They both have terrible hair they rock with commitment and they’ve both allegedly been millionaires for years and years and years. They’re also both fond of blasting words out of their mouths while fueled by some fizzy concoction of hubris, fury, and temporary self-righteousness and they both grin while they utter some of the most awful things a human being has ever uttered while fully aware cameras are pointed straight at their faces. They both apologize after the fact – or they sometimes do – and they often maintain that of course they didn’t mean what they said. No, not all people from Mexico trying to come into America are rapists! And Tamra Judge is totally not a dumb f*ck! God, it’s so annoying when people who are listening to you expect you to commit to the words barreling out of your mouth, huh?

As for the liar I was describing, well, that’s Ms. Vicki Gunvalson, a hellacious specimen who will never have any idea just how hellacious she actually is because she was born with an allergy to self-awareness the way I was born with an allergy to the entire feline species. This woman lies constantly, including to herself. Want some proof? Go back and watch the dinner scene from last week when Vicki announced to her children just how low-maintenance of a person she is and how she rarely causes any strife in the lives of those she’s closest to. Then feel free to go ahead and punch your TV. (You can watch anything you want on your phone now anyway.) Like Hillary Clinton, Vicki is someone many people just see as patently dishonest. While I’m quite sure Clinton never spun elaborate tales about administering late night IVs just to snag herself a tuna casserole, there’s no denying she’s got her share of detractors and there must be some good reasons for that sweeping mistrust. Still, I’m with her (Hillary, not Vicki) and it all comes down to the fact that I prefer having a sane President in the White House. And if you’re someone who’s annoyed that I’m bringing political commentary into a recap I must write on the same night as the first televised debate, allow me to suggest that you read the recap on Entertainment Weekly’s site instead. It’s funny – and the writer rarely compares reality show stars to Presidential candidates, one of whom was indeed once a reality show star. You can come back and read my stuff when it’s not an election year. No hard feelings.

At any rate, I guess what it comes down to is that I can’t stand Vicki and I legitimately question Kelly’s sanity, but there’s still an excellent chance that neither is as stupendously terrible as Shannon’s mother-in-law who made her sparkling debut last week. Okay, full disclosure: I had a cold last Monday and I took some medicine that made my already weighted head feel even headier and part of me was therefore convinced that I must have hallucinated this Donna person because there’s no way in the broiling bowels of the underworld that such a hideous creature exists, right? Wrong! Donna’s real! She’s a real lady who really walked into an event for her real grandchildren and really sought out Kelly and Tamra and really then told them that Shannon is basically an assh*le. Why is Donna not f*cking running as an Independent this year?

As a fairly normal person who feels queasy watching a woman who is trying desperately to rebuild a marriage hear that her monster of a mother-in-law believes that she was the singular cause of her husband’s past infidelity, I can only hope Donna’s presence is temporary. I can only hope her horribleness flashed across the airwaves like a shooting star that then splintered away to absolute nothingness in the vast black sky, the one that so beautifully matches her blackened soul. Here’s hoping Donna’s never seen or heard from again – and here’s also hoping she grabs Vicki by her low-maintenance throat and drags her far far away to a place where whoo-hooing is just a terrible memory that intensive therapy can maybe allow us to eventually forget. Unfortunately, I am very aware some fantasies never come true, some prayers never get answered, and that basically means Vicki is back this week to continue her Apology Tour, the one that includes absolutely no apologies whatsoever and is sponsored by a cancer charity and some hefty projected blame inflicted upon those who are foolish enough to take it.

Tonight’s episode begins in the simmering afterglow of the meanest mother-in-law in all of the land attempting to ruin Shannon’s life on the very week she needs to pack up an entire mansion. I’m quite certain Donna would criticize Shannon’s bubble-wrapping technique, but at least there’s an upside we can focus on amidst all this negativity. At this point, most of the once-fractured relationships amongst our Housewives have been sutured together. So what if that suturing was done with scotch tape and some spit? Meghan and Tamra have embraced and declared their affection for one another while Kelly and Shannon finally got through an entire evening without Kelly declaring Shannon a c*nt. We must focus on the positives, people! Sure, Shannon still thinks Vicki is a f*cking liar, but so does everyone else with a pulse and a working set of corneas.

We’ll get to Vicki – who you know is thanking her Lord daily for crashing in the desert because it got her some sympathy from the very women she deceived about a minor thing like cancer – in a moment, but first it’s time to check out Shannon’s rental home. Holy f*ck, the place is huge, the views glorious, but Shannon is concerned the skylights are not optimal for her feng shui needs. There is a bright side, though. She and her family will not be homeless and she’s in close enough of a proximity to Kelly’s seven bars that she can get herself hammered at any time of the day or night. And should David’s mother continue to weave voodoo dolls that look like Shannon out of cornhusks and her own tears to punish the woman who stole her son over a decade ago, Shannon might very well need that shot of tequila.

Having finally recovered from not being reckless as she drove her friends over sand dunes at three hundred miles per hour, Tamra is enjoying some sushi with her husband. Eddie wants his wife to release all the stress she’s carting around and suggests sex and sake as a way to unwind, but Tamra knows her upcoming spa day with Kelly, Vicki, and Heather will be just the thing to settle her nerves and calm her mind. I’m imagining this optimistic proclamation is serving as foreshadowing because if that day doesn’t end with someone drowning Vicki in a vat of mud, I’m gonna go ahead and consider the entire outing a gigantic failure.

Over at Kelly’s house, she brings a beer to her husband who is working in the garage. His work is not up to her standards and she’s tired of how he half-asses his tasks, but she’s far more tired of the guy in general. She filed for divorce once before because of Michael’s suffocating bouts of control over her and that separation lasted for about two and a half years before they decided to stay together for reasons that are frankly difficult to understand. I’m imagining much of the reason Kelly came back to this man she so clearly resents is so her daughter can have a united family. As a child of divorce myself, I can say with conviction there is something way worse than living without one of your parents on a daily basis, and that’s living with two parents who can’t f*cking stand one another. The way Kelly and Michael speak and relate as a couple is uncomfortable to watch. I cannot for the life of me figure out why either of them believed bringing cameras into the equation would aid their decibel-blasting discord in the least, but then again, I’ve never used the words “Kelly” and “sanity” in the same sentence unless I’m saying something unbelievably cruel (and unbelievably correct) about her, so it’s probably wise that I not try to make sense out of this senseless situation.

Speaking of idiots, we travel next to Vicki’s insurance firm where she and her son are meeting with some people to start a charity/insurance initiative that is actually called “Kill All Cancer.” Now listen, I think there’s nothing on this planet that needs to be destroyed more that cancer. It’s an insidious disease that impacts us all in some terrible and life-shifting way, but can anyone seriously look at Vicki f*cking Gunvalson and think, “Yes! She’s the one who should be involved in our cancer charity!” According to this confirmed liar, she was mistakenly blamed for being a part of Brooks’ fake cancer scam, but she swears she did nothing wrong and she will start this charity, dammit, and who cares if her involvement causes others to go running for the hills and straight to a different cancer charity, one that’s maybe run by a woman who does not mimic the crucifixion every three months or so? By no means am I maintaining that people with cancer should not be entitled to excellent insurance, but these partners she’s meeting with (who want Vicki to star in the commercials for this plan) seriously need to have their noggins examined – and fast. At least the director of the commercial wants to get to the bottom of Vicki’s involvement with Brook’s cancer fraud before they start working together, but Vicki sticks to her story of innocence and all but absolves both herself and Brooks from any kind of blame. She continues to insist that she’s positive Brooks was once ravaged by a terrible disease, even as her own son announces that the only person on the planet who still believes the guy is his mother. Vicki will not be dissuaded, though. “Let’s do this,” she announces in her nasally voice. “Let’s make a difference.”

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