Real Housewives of Orange County Recap – 10/10/16

October 11th, 2016 | No Comments | Posted in Uncategorized

Let us ponder for a moment, shall we, some of the monumental and soul-crushing events that have already taken place during THE ANNUAL REAL HOUSEWIVES VACATION TO AN UNKNOWN LAND BECAUSE WATCHING THESE WOMEN FIGHT ON THEIR HOME TURF HAS BECOME TEDIOUS:

1. Stranded on a boat in Amsterdam, Lisa Rinna actually formed and then said the words, “You’re a winner, Kim Richards!” because she was painfully aware that Kim Richards hated her enough to set her on fire and then snort her ashes to make all the evidence go away.

2. While surrounded by water and therefore rendered weaponless (besides the knives that live in Bethenny’s mouth), the New York crew bore witness to Kelly Bensimon gnawing the heads off gummy bears, not figuring out how to open a door, and eventually losing her entire f*cking mind in a stunning bipolar episode that she decided to then call “a breakthrough.”

3. Reclining in a hot tub in Colorado with Kyle and her own scarily-jutting clavicle, Taylor alluded to the physical abuse within her marriage. Then she crawled into a suitcase right before she almost committed murder because her mascara was missing.

4. Though she tried with all her might to make it nice, not a bit of Dorinda’s formidable hostess prowess could stop Bethenny from explaining to Luann all of the many reasons why she’s a giant whore in a kitchen somewhere in the Berkshires.

5. At some winery where he hid in the vines so the call from his probable mistress could be more private, Joe Giudice forgot to take off his mic but remembered to call his wife “a c*nt.” I know, but at least he didn’t grab her by the p*ssy.

Anyhoo, even with all of these terrifying precedents lining their collective histories like spikes made out of night terrors, our OC ladies are still thrilled to climb aboard a giant flying tube together where there will be nothing but booze and barely-contained resentments to pass the time. They’re off to Ireland under the flimsy pretense that Meghan is researching her family lineage and nothing would make such a profound journey more comforting than traveling with a bunch of women who fight every twelve minutes like someone set a f*cking egg timer. You’d have to lobotomize me (twice) to ever get me on a plane with Vicki Gunvalson while there’s still the remnants of a hickey near her tit, but that’s just Reason #357 of why I should never be hired for this franchise. The Housewives who are currently under contract to Andy Cohen – that evil genius – are far less discriminating about who they spend their time with because they just like to be wherever the cameras are.

Tonight begins with one of those ubiquitous packing montages, which means we get to watch Heather pack fantastically expensive clothing alongside a well-paid assistant while Tamra wears yet another ridiculous trucker hat as she shoves her own sweaters in a bag. Kelly’s getting advice about what she should bring with her from her husband and they’re getting along for once, probably because the sight of her packing her bags thrills them both. At some point during her own packing process, Meghan stops to accept a call from her husband. Yes, Jimmy actually calls his wife and then he even tells her she looks pretty! Seems he too enjoys his spouse the most when she’s headed far away from wherever he happens to be.

Kelly in particular is so excited about this Ireland trip since it’s coming at a time when she desperately needs to be at least one continent away from her husband and his evident disgust for her. She cannot wait to “let off some steam” and “party,” and if you’re not terrified by those proclamations, dear viewer, you have not been paying a whole lot of attention this season. Still, before she leaves home, she makes sure to tell her husband that his predilection for getting hammered is humiliating for both of them and he needs to better control his drinking so as not to embarrass her because shrieking that her new friend is “a dumb f*ck” over a table at a sushi restaurant is one thing, but stumbling around a Newport Beach party thrown by the Dubrows is quite another.

Meanwhile, Vicki is packing with the help of her daughter and it seems the guy who left a big purple mark next to her nipple has also left his shoes at the foot of Vicki’s bed. That’s right: Vicki is getting laid by a cop named Steve and such knowledge officially ruins sex for me so I shall spend the rest of today searching for a brand new hymen on because if revirginization is the way for me to be the least Vicki-like as is humanly possible, I will buy two of those suckers today – and they will be here in less than 48 hours because I am a Prime customer.

As for Tamra, she will not be drinking in Ireland because it’s so close to her fitness competition and she needs to keep her body in tip-top shape. She certainly realizes her “friends” are way more fun when she’s plastered, but she’s as committed to having the perfect ass as she is to having the clearest soul her psalm-reciting trainer can try to shove into her. After meeting up with the rest of the women at the airport – and after Kelly takes some Xanax – they all arrive in Ireland. Heather reads off some essential Irish vernacular they all need to spout as frequently as possible so they will sound legit and not like horrible American reality stars who refuse to go anywhere without a camera crew.

Arriving at the hotel, the ladies are greeted with drinks and Vicki is handed a bouquet of roses from Steve, who signed the card, “I love you.” Um, is this maybe the sort of matter Internal Affairs wants to perhaps investigate? After all, they clearly have an unwell man on the force at the moment and his symptoms have manifested in him falling in love with Vicki f*cking Gunvalson>/i>. Seriously: somebody needs to do something drastic.

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