There’s a new pistol-packin’ mama in the O.C., and her name is Peggy. But though she may carry .45-caliber ammo, her verbal bullets are just as deadly—and, as her “friend” Alexis found out, she can play a mean game of “My Kids Are Better Than Yours! Let Me Count the Ways.” Breaking in a new Housewife is never easy. But I think it’s safe to say Peggy entered the Bravo-verse with a bang.
Alexis introduced us to her by scheduling a playdate for their kids. Never underestimate the competitive instincts of two moms in proximity to one another. We learned that Alexis’ James was potty trained in two weeks. Peggy’s London is articulate. Alexis’ Melania is a better writer than her classmates, and McKenna is the best listener in her grade. Peggy’s putting Capri in her agency to become a model. Well, she is a year old after all. (Also, is there any chance London and Capri weren’t conceived in London or Capri?) James was with a modeling agency, but Alexis didn’t want to make the drive every week. Oh, and McKenna can count to six in Spanish. Can I please delete this info from my brain to make room for something less mindless? Or at least for more Star Wars trivia?
When we met Peggy’s husband, Micah, he was cleaning the family guns. Behind every gated community is a well-stocked arsenal, after all. “I love my bling bling, I love my lip gloss, and I love my guns,” Peggy announced. The trifecta! She talked about how she and Micah first sized each other up: “You look at me and you might thing, ‘She’s blonde, she’s got fake boobs, so she must be a gold-digger.’” Now, why would we think that? And apparently we’d think Micah was a playboy, bad freakin’ news. Okay, seriously this time, why would we ever think THAT? As Peggy herself said, he’s Micah “Stewart,” a man who can sew and cook as a well as pump rounds into a human outline at the gun range. The latter is still the only surefire way of proving your masculinity, by the way. And I think Peggy did just that (see photo).
NEXT: Real Housewives meets Desperate Housewives, and Tamra faces a d-word more upsetting than divorce: downsizing.