Oh for the love of…. See, Joyce’s husband spent nine gruesome hours on the toilet so the woman can’t help but wonder if there was something to Joyce’s hex after all. They met for lunch and Joyce asked Carlton to promise that she won’t whirligig some spell that makes Michael’s head spin around while he throws up curry or her son fall down the stairs. Whoa, said Carlton, hold on a f—ing minute, do not go there. Eyes flashing, fingers pointing, sun spots on her chest turning blotchy. “So did I say something that probably wasn’t appropriate? Yes. Should she be worried? No.” Should we be bored? Yes. “I say enough of this silly s—,” said Carlton, her mood inexplicably turning from dark to sunny. The thing is she really feels like Joyce is a good person, if a little naive. Yes, Joyce may have thought she had it in her to murder children through black magic, but they cleared up that nonsense over Mexican food. But that f—ing b—- Kyle? She will have to pay for daring to disrespect her in Carlton’s dream one night.
Quick la di da break from the madness: Kimberly and Kim got matching butterfly tattoos on their wrists and it was rather sweet. Of course Kim believes that when she dies she’s coming back as a butterfly by the way. That or a sunflower. Or a tub of honey. Or clouds! Also Yolanda swathed herself in coral-colored exercise wear and helped Gigi pack up her winter coats for New York.
It was the night of Ken and Mauricio’s joint party and Villa Rosa’s marble dressing closets were abuzz. When it comes to parties, Lisa decides what Ken wears, Ken decides what Giggy wears (in this case a white black onesie suit with sequined back pockets where Giggy could keep his billfold and sports car key), and Giggy decides what Rocio wears. Rocio was really waggling the hanger with Herves Leger dress but that bastard Giggy picked the pajamas and banished the housekeeper to her galley quarters.)
NEXT: Things not to talk about at a dinner party—politics, religion, 3/4 of a nipple.