Pastors, pastors, as far as the eye can see. The episode opened with Phaedra’s wonderfully fearsome Mama Regina making googly eyes at cutie pie Ayden, whose darling head of hair had a massive growth spurt. Phaedra swanned into the kitchen, preening over her plans for a funeral-home family business. Quick question, readers: When you think of mortuaries do you picture a) dead people, b) vampires, or c) a bunch of folks boo-hoo’ing. (P.S.: If you answered b, you’re either 10 years old and shouldn’t be watching Real Housewives – Arianna! – or nuts.) Well, wait until Phaedra gets a hold of those embalming shears. She’s going to revolutionize how we mourners think of death. “I want to do funerals worth dying for,” she said, coining her future business’ slogan. “Events! Not just throw ‘em in the ground. Let’s throw ‘em in the ground with a bang!” Preach, weirdo. All I know for sure is that I’d like Pastor Regina roaring like a lion as my new alarm sound and all this recapping baloney would be worth it if I could ever get a high-five from Ayden.
Date night, y’all! And did Peter and Cynthia ever look psyched to have a romantic night out on the town. Have two people ever looked more miserable to be stuck with one another as a salsa partner? Before class started they sat down for a little confab on the broken state of their union. (I don’t usually think Cynthia and her sister Mal look a lick alike but in that black dress and up do the resemblance was startling.) Their problem is communication, said Cynthia. That and the fact that the Peter Thomas package sucks ass. “I’m so happy with myself I’m going to talk like this for the rest of my life,” Peter said by way of compromise. Cynthia’s bags under her eyes swelled terrifyingly. Who wants to dance? “Only one person can lead or we’re not going to be a partnership,” the innocent teacher counseled, “we gonna be a fight.” Peter huffed and snorted. “That’s us all day long.”
KJ can’t stop peeing on his Mama, an act which I sorely wish Bravo had shared with us. Now that the baby is freshly swaddled, it’s time to get the Versace china unpacked. Did your hear that, America? Versace. Versace! Kim instructed the cameraman to zero in on the Versace logo on the china box. Class, y’all, and a part of her children’s inheritance. (Actually, Arianna just assumed she’d have all the cash that’s shoved under her mother’s canopy bed. And anything from Kim’s closet that’s bedazzled or camouflage-patterned.) Brielle regarded the whole scene with disdain and sat there with a curled lip as she texted ungrammatical messages to her friends. Kim demanded that Brielle help unpack. Her daughter propped a lazy slipper up on the table and smirked at the idea of hard labor. Kroy sighed heavily. Kim wondered if she’d perhaps spoiled her daughters and discouraged a life of curiosity and work ethic. Kim, some advice from afar. Get your daughter applications to TCBY and your neighborhood grocery store (insist she apply to one or the other) and a library card. Take the TV out of her room and tell her you’ll turn off her phone unless she stops acting like a cheap Disney princess with a bad attitude.
We took a quick, boring trip down to Nashville so Kandi could pay a visit to Jo Dee Messina’s house. I actually kind of liked the song that Kandi wrote for Jo Dee. I’m just confused as to why it was so much better than her “Fly Above” single from last season.
NEXT: Nene and Marlo have a meeting of the Moscatos.