Real Housewives of Orange County RECAP – What a Difference a Year Makes
Posted by tinselkitty on April 11, 2011
A little drama, a lot more lightness and fun. This is the formula I’d like Bravo to get back to. And if there has to be more beach scenery, so be it.
Unless that beach has Vicki on it, telling all the beachcombers to cover their boobs more and forcing everyone to rinse off in the parking lot shower before getting in the car, even if it only shoots out cold water and you’re already sunburned. Maybe next time you’ll listen when Vicki tells you to reapply your sunscreen and to move your chair under the umbrella.
It’s bad enough Vicki’s playing boat patrol for the day. She obviously doesn’t want to be there and is only taking a day off work (GASPITY GASP GASPS!) and these losers she’s with don’t even appreciate her sacrifice. It’s not just any day she took off, it’s an actual work day. I mean, it would have been one thing if she just didn’t work on a random Saturday, but it’s in the middle of the week! You know who goes out on a boat during the week? Losers. Or people that fish. So, yeah, losers. It’s not like they are doing anything, they’re just sitting there in a boat and holding a stick with a string on it. Do you know how much insurance Vicki could have sold in the time it took that guy to bait his hook?
That goes for you sewers and knitters, too. Y’all need to see the light, just as Vicki did, put down your domestic implements, get off your fat, lazy asses and do something. Be productive! Those $900 a month electric bills don’t pay themselves, you know. El sello some policios, pendejos.
Then, after all Vicki had given up to be with her family in a confined space with no chance of escape, Donn goes and honks the horn at her. WHILE SHE IS TRYING TO TALK INSURANCE! Given Vicki’s predisposition for treating her work family and legally-bound-even-if-no-one-really-wants-to-be family, you just know his ass got written up for insubordination as soon as they set foot on dry land. The Vickster keeps a stack of write-ups in the glove box of all her cars for just such occasions.
Meanwhile, jobless Tamra is rubbing her joblessness in everyone’s faces by hopping an international flight with Eddie and heading of to El Spanyo. Tamra fills Eddie in on all the mace-based drama in the limo, wisely getting the conversation out of the way so she can delete the text message before anyone with the TSA gets their grubby paws on her spangly phone. Who knows what sorts of “security measures” one might be subjected to.
As if to flaunt their unemployed status as well, Princess Gretchen visits Alexis in the middle of the goddamned day. It was a quick jaunt over for G, really, as all the fine, upstanding members of society are at their jobs and not clogging up the roads. Gretchen is on a mission to rub some more of herself off on Alexis, just as Tamra said she would. Gretchen’s master plan might be progressing nicely so far, but next week, whoo doggies, Tamra’s gonna plant herself smack in the middle of it and let Alexis know what for.
For now, though, Alexis is experiencing a lot more stress about Tamra and Gretchen not being besties than either Tamra or Gretchen. Gretchen sure seems okay with it, laughing about it and admitting that Tamra’s pretty witty but lacks some finesse with her timing. Editorial pause for official Tinselkitty prediction – one of these days Tamra and Gretchen are going to end up on the same team against a common enemy and will come out of it as superBFFs. Something about the strongest steel being forged in the hottest fires, yadda yadda yadda. Just imagine those two on a rampage. Intriguing, isn’t it?
Anyhoodles, Alexis doesn’t want to be in the middle no mores. You know those evil editors at Real Housewives HQ aren’t going to let a statement like that pass by for long.
Vicki is still on the boat, wasting the whole day not working, or so she says. I mean, it’s not like she’s getting paid or anything for providing a storyline for Bravo. Nope, she’s sitting on boat, completely ruining any chance she had of pulling in any sort of income for the day. Absolutely worthless, all of it! But the worst part is that her legally-bound-even-if-no-one-really-wants-to-be family have all jumped aboard Donn’s insubordination train and are insubordinating her right there in front of her work family, and as well all know, they are the most important family. They respect her. They get her. A lot of times they get her way more than they want her because she just won’t ever go home, but they get her. They talk about insurance with her, the most awesomest topic in the world, and really, the only thing anyone should ever want to talk about. Soul mates. These are her hand-picked soul mates, brokered in a deal with the devil during the lowest points in their lives. Now, their eternities are filled with insurance, forced to chew every day on the irony that had they only had some sort of insurance in the first place, they might never have found themselves being used as Lucifer’s currency.
As the sun makes it way towards the ocean, Vicki can almost taste her opportunity to get a few hours in at the office that evening. As soon as this boat docks, Vicki is going to beat a hasty retreat to her luxury automobile and hightail it into the warm embrace of her corner office at Coto Insurance (motto: Where Clients Are Family) where she can sink into the comfort of her executive chair and bask in the glow from her computer monitor. Ahhh, bliss. Wait, what? A bar? Where the hell did that come from? How can anyone consider hitting up Blackie’s by the Sea when there is client-family to attend to? How is it that legally-bound-even-if-no-one-really-wants-to-be family cannot understand that they are the last on the list of families? Client family, work family, legally-bound-even-if-no-one-really-wants-to-be family. It’s not that damn complicated, people!
Blackie’s? Really? They don’t even have wifi there. And they want Vicki to hang out with them there? As if. All Blackie’s has is beer and televisions and hot dogs.
Even with two windows at the front of the bar, the interior is dark and old, just like you’d expect at a true dive bar. Blackie’s has several TVs and pool tables in the back, making it a perfect location for locals to hang out and relax. The interior design is kitschy-nautical, with the walls covered in fake fish and lifesaving rings.
At Blackie’s, you’ll see businessmen in their 30s, bikers and surfer dudes. Out front there are beach cruisers parked alongside Harleys. If you get hungry, Blackie’s offers hot dogs, sandwiches and standard bar munchies like peanuts and pretzels. Music is supplied by a juke box. You can buy your very own Blackie’s by the Sea T-shirt to wear proudly around town.
The only thing you can do at Blackie’s is drink beer and piss your mom off with your refusal to do everything in moderation like she does. Snort. Oh, sheesh, I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t just fling snort spittle onto your keyboard. It’s just that listening to Vicki tell anyone to do things in moderation it makes me snort. Most of the time she doesn’t notice because she’s at the office. Sure, she’s probably spending at inordinate amount of time there Googling herself, but I assume I am far too lowly of a blogger to get her attention. With this kind of relaxed atmosphere, sometimes it’s hard to restrain my snickering.
Now that she’s been upgraded from domestically unemployed to internationally unemployed, Tamra gets to whooping it up in Spain. She looks at views, she rolls around on petal-strewn linens, she poses for pictures out the wazoo. What she doesn’t do, however, is try to speak to the locals in their native tongue, because Tamra is smart enough to admit that her Spanish is el crappo, even though her mastery of the language is already light years more advanced than el Spanisho del Gunvalson.
Princess Lazypants Gretchen is still stateside, spending her days lounging around the house until it’s time to get into hair and makeup and head downtown to pick up her welfare check, which she turns around and blows on a totally frivolous 40th anniversary weekend for her parents. I, for one, was so embarrassed for her mom and dad, as it was quite apparent that Gretchen did the absolute minimum in preparations for such a momentous occasion. For example, she rented a yellow Mustang. It was supposed to be white! Instead of splurging on a flashy, big-name preacher dude, which Alexis totally could have helped her find, she dug up the old guy that did the ceremony the first time around. She wouldn’t even indulge in “Happy 40th Anniversary, Crybaby” tissues like Slade wanted.
Over in Irvine, Peggy’s got new boobs in mind. She’s a little worried, understandably, because this time she’s got two little girls to think about. If something, God forbid, were to go wrong, she’d be leaving these girls without their mother. Thankfully, Peggy pulls through with flying colors and can rest assured she’ll be around to explain to the girls why they need boob jobs instead of new cars or a college education when they graduate from high school. After all, it is a scientific fact that a girl’s success in life is directly correlated with rackage. Without a perky set of chest floaties, well, who knows what hell awaits? They might have to work for a living. Clutch. The. Pearls.
Micah is much more relaxed about the whole mess. He knows it’s all going to be okay because this guy plays with boobs every day. Hey, just because a guy plays with boobs a lot doesn’t mean he’s good with them, AMIRITE LADIES? Micah is so confident, in fact, he’s already locked and loaded with a post-surgery present at the ready. As soon as Peggy’s shaken off a bit of the anesthesia, Micah blows her damn mind with one of these little beauties –
Now, the earrings we see Micah showing off are decidedly larger than those that come with the box, but a) I have serious doubts as to their geniune diamondness as every nice piece of jewelry I’ve ever come in contact with has come in its own, less klassy-with-a-k, more classy-with-a-c box and b) why put the rose back in the convenience store packaging after swapping out the earrings? Wouldn’t the romantic factor have been higher had he just whipped it out sans paperboard and plastic window container? Aw, hell, for all I know he had already removed it from the blisterpack hanger sleeve it came shipped in. Those blisterpacks are a bitch if you don’t have a good pair of scissors handy.
Alls I know is, if new boobs and earrings don’t help Peggy get over her PPD…well, I don’t know where I’m going with that. I’m going to have to think about it some more and get back to you.
Micah was right in the end, nothing bad happened and all is right with the world because Vicki has made it back to the Coto Insurance mother ship and is back to being the momma bear. Let’s hope Sarah Palin doesn’t shoot her on her next camping trip to the wilds of California, or those poor boys at CI will never know what size shirts they should be wearing or how they should cross their legs when sitting or how to drive home from the office before the sun has set. They might let dogs run around the office all willy nilly and little Michael might learn how to use his phone for actual calls and not just as a prop to whip into place when he hears his mom heading towards his cubicle-cell.
I fear most for Danielle, though. Who would be there to mete out corporal punishment when she gets out of control and makes ridiculously unwise decisions like going home when she is ill? How will she ever learn? Much like the woman who learns that dinner better be on the table as soon as her man walks in the door lest she find herself wearing an extra layer of makeup around her eye for a week, Danielle needs instruction borne out of love. You know who doesn’t hit you? People that don’t love you. Also, many times, bosses. I hear a lot of bosses don’t hit their employees. Probably because they don’t care.
Mom and Pop Gretchen have made it to the big 4-0 and the journey down memory lane that Gretchen sloppily threw together at the last minute. Gretch does present her mom with a lime green bouquet, prompting a swoon from TK’s direction. Gretchen’s mom also gets bonus cool points for those bridesmaids’ dresses. I believe that’s the exact silhouette used by cake topper sculptors ever since.
Back in Spain, Tamra shows us all she’s possessed of some self awareness with this phrase, embiggened for sheer awesomeness –
“You can definitely take the girl out of Orange County, but you cannot take the shopping whore out of me.”
Earlier in the episode, Eddie had made a comment about timing being everything, a phrase he shows a deep understanding of. Why else wait until he had a few days in Spain under his belt before slapping Tamra upside the head with the let’s have kids conversation. I am not convinced that the Bravo production crew didn’t have to film this scene twice after having to step in to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on a choking Tamra. Those editors are slick ones.
After many underhanded comments and catty blog posts, it seems we are now witnessing the dawning of Alexis’s realization that Peggy = not such a good buddy bud. Is there anyone out there that DOESN’T want to know exactly what was so wonktaculous about Peggy’s brand new set of wine glass coasters that Alexis immediately thought she should have gone to see Alexis’ doctor instead? I’ve got no pride, I’ll say it. Hell yeah I want to know. Seriously, Alexis, call me, k? You can get exactly as graphic as you want. I promise, I won’t tell anyone.
Aww, Slade wanted the crybaby tissues for himself. Look at him getting all teared up for Gretchen’s mom and dad. I wonder if he cries like that each month when he doesn’t pay his child support.
Tamra’s time in Spain is coming to an end soon so it’s time for a little romantic pic-i-nic, and, I have to assume, some raunchtastic photo action. Eddie doesn’t carry around that mammoth camera just for landscapes, yo. I can’t be mad at Tamra this year. She’s so damn happy. Next week she’s going to rip Alexis a new one, but right now, happy is good.
Happy is un-freakin’-believable.