Happy Birthday Gretchen, you darling, gracious creature, you. Slade had big plans for her special day and if she played her cards right they might involve extra packets of hoisin from Hunan Wok. Off they went, into a nest of LA traffic, to celebrate on a poor man’s nickel. Recently Gretchen had stumbled down the stairs looking for her boyfriend, and found him painting naked in the garage. Call the exterminator! Ever since Gretchen has been gently encouraging her man to pursue his flippin’ passion. And by encouraging I mean taking one of her Gretchen Christine Beaute powder brushes, dipping it in acid, and jamming it over and over into his heart. “It’s a way to make money right now babe,” she said. (Whenever she says babe, duck.) Slade sad-glared at her. “It’s not a consistent way to take care of my family,” he said. Oh dude, you’re so in for it. “Right now it’s better than the other way,” she said, pausing to let her words fizz on his skin. “Nothing right now, right?” Slade wallowed at the wheel, the traffic mounted, Gretchen sighed and then sighed again. Look for that dramatic sigh to be auto-tuned and dropped into her next single.
She sighed again at the art gallery, and then when presented with styrofoam trays of take-out, and then when she opened a box of white painter pants, and then again when she was forced for the cameras to pretend she thought smearing some pink paint on a canvas was amusing. Throughout Slade’s birthday surprise, which was actually kinda dear, her eyes maintained that look of frozen disbelief. In her private interview, she went for levity, yammering on about how she pictured the night ending with her rolling in paint, her top coming off, and her nipples leaving their bullet-sized marks on the canvas. But in realite, she was only able to show any good humor to Slade’s friend, who gifted her with a Cadillac-sized portrait of Season 3 Gretchen, the one who hadn’t yet turned cold and mean.
Hey, she never claimed she was perfect. And neither did Vicki. (Ha!) Vicki apparently got home from work one night at 1 a.m. and decided it was time to bury the Mace with Alexis. So both women suited up in black, draped themselves in heavy crosses and chandelier earrings, and agreed to meet for a Skinny Girl margarita. (What would Jesus do in this situation? Head for the hills.) Alexis tried to impress upon Vicki that she too was now an accomplished business woman what with her dress line. Oh really? Vicki used to sew a lot, before she decided her hobby was life. Vicki, who had just promised to only talk bad to Alexis’ face, promptly snickered to the camera about a fitness instructor-turned-fashion designer hooking up with a former hair and makeup stylist. All I know is that Alexis might have at least googled the word “couture” before deciding her label’s name was Alexis Couture. That said, just because she has a body made for sin doesn’t mean she’s a dummy. After all she has an older husband who’s had a lot of life lessons. Squint. Squint. Would a Barbie doll have had the good sense to take a scissors to that bat sleeve that looked cut-and-pasted from an old Katarina Witt skating costume? Well, probably, yes.
NEXT: Cats on the cat walk. Tamra and Jeana face off in resort wear.