Camille is a generous soul who doesn’t like to hold a grudge. Or rather, she is so convinced of her righteous triumph over an evil Kyle at their last New York dinner gathering, that she wants another shot at the high road. So she arranged a dinner party for all the Housewives with promises of fresh pizza. Sold! Every now and then Nice Camille comes out, and she was actually rather sweet on the phone inviting Kyle. Sure, she could bring her friend. No problem. Girls’ night, hooray!
Bravo really needs to do Taylor a solid and stop directly cutting from scenes of Kyle and Mauricio’s enviable partnership to the fun snatch that is her grim union with Russell. As the thick-haired (in some places, at least) brunette wonders biked the hills of Napa, Mauricio never leaving his wheezing wife’s side, telling her this was the happiest day of his life, Taylor and Russell endured a much more exhausting car ride together. Many of you have inexplicably declared yourself Team Russell, giving the guy points for once trying to make Kennedy a microwave dinner.
Oh Kim, my damaged child-star princess with a good heart. She who is part Margot Kidder, part Paris Hilton, with just a dash of Anne Heche circa Celestia thrown in for kicks, got to finally have some fun this episode. After she first submitted herself to a medieval facial that involved layers of cotton batting, Jason’s mask, and then Hannibal’s face cage over that, and a disconcerting number of red electrical wires. “What are you doing?” she mumbled from underneath, as Kyle played a distracted game of Solitaire on her phone next to her. “Wait, what?” Are you comfortable under there dear?
In the Big Apple, the battle royale between Kyle and Camille raged on over untouched plates of pasta. “I don’t lie, it’s not my personality,” lied Camille. “Well then you hallucinate,” snapped Kyle. She looked to her sister for back up, but Kim had already gone to her dark place, flooded with memories of when Eddie Albert and Donald Pleasence used to bicker on the set of Escape to Witch Mountain. “I get nervous!” she whined in her sad Roby voice.
I worry (not really) that I’ve spent too much of this season lambasting the various idiocies that make up Camille Grammer. It’s not so much that she comes across as a mean person, or a wicked or dangerous one. She’s not a villain—neither as crass and melodramatic as New Jersey’s Danielle nor loopity-loop and whacked as New York’s Kelly. But I think I watch every one of her scenes with curled lip and cocked eye because she’s so ridiculously, harmlessly, tediously self-absorbed.
What Kennedy really wanted for her birthday was an invitation to Portia’s party. Taylor, in her least flattering moment yet, threw her four-year-old the prettiest, least fun party ever. Meanwhile, there was a French fry station and hugs and ducklings over at Kyle’s house. Poor Kennedy was stuck with cascading tea-kettle roses and scones and a tipsy mother overly invested in her photo shoot and a dick-wad father with no social skills let alone respect for her mother. Hold that puppy close, child!
Camille was born to dance. She was born to paddle board. She was born to talk about the gorgeousness of her breasts and her tennis partner’s balls. I’m guessing she was not born with that strange accent—a little bit snooty, a little irritated—which only gets worse when people dare suggest she stand in the shadow of Kelsey Grammer. “Dohn’t thwow jahbs at me becuz I wull stahnd up four mysulfuh,” she warned.
Here’s what went down last night on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills: Kim brought some more of her “former child star” brand of crazy. She loves her children so, so, so, so, so much, and she tried to enlist ‘em in a googly-eyed metaphor about how they’re all cabooses and sometimes an engineer blows a whistle and that’s when mama caboose crashes the train and nobody call the cops because cabooses need each other and she did it all for love. Should Kim be driving?
Did your face hurt after watching? Poor Taylor, probably a lovely woman underneath that Beverly Hills mask, with skin stretched like a balloon and those odd lips just begging for a release of some kind. Then she trusted Adrienne’s husband to inject what looked like swollen olives under her skin. Anything to keep her disturbingly aloof venture capitalist husband from leaving her for a 20-year-old. “So what’s the latest with your little company?” he deigned to inquire over dinner. Oh honey, I say leave him.
Real Housewives of Beverly Hills star Kyle Richards is capitalizing on her reality TV fame with a new clothing line for shopping network HSN.
The Bravolebrity is releasing an eight-piece collection inspired by her personal style. Items in the Kyle by Kyle Richards line are priced between $69.90 and $199.90. The collection debuts February 25th on HSN.com.
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