Prepare to dream sweet dreams of sleeping with sharks tonight because part three of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills season 6 reunion is here, and they’ve clearly saved the best bits for last. Yes, we do mean the inevitable Munchausen showdown to end all uses of the term here and forevermore will happen, but also there’s an extra persnickety guest cameo coming in to introduce some salt to the various wounds (one word: ouch!), and we’ll finally find out what the Lisas next quarter century of knowing each other will look like.
If you thought this season of RHOBH was slow, just wait until you get to this middle installment of the three-part reunion. Bravo could practically teach a Ph.D. course in the beating of metaphorical dead horses at this point with star professor Dr. Lisa Rinna at the helm, earning her tenure over and over again. “Here’s what ya do, kids,” she’d say with a smoker’s rasp you’d never noticed before. “You pick three points, and you stick to ‘em, no matter how many times Andy Cohen looks at you like you just got your ass waxed on national television.
Real Housewives reunions have a few things in common across the entire franchise: No matter the city, there will be countless montages; there will be some woman named Marcy from Tampa writing in to say she just cannot believe this filth (that she’s choosing to watch); and you will inevitably find yourself thinking, “That’s what they chose to wear to sit on a couch for eight hours?”
Before tonight’s season finale of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I somehow managed to convince myself that this was the first episode of the reunion special. So imagine my wide-awake nightmare when I realized that we would not even get to experience this nonsense fight these women have been having for what feels like the majority of my young life in hindsight, where maybe their vision could have been Botoxed into 20/20.
As a lady from Texas, I can tell you on good authority that everything is bigger in Dubai — the buildings are taller, the muumuus more billowing, and the drama…so out of this world you literally will not know what is happening. You may think you know what is happening for a moment — hey, these women are having a nice dinner on a boat! — only to realize that they’re actually neglecting the chicken piccata and screaming at each other not to LIE about LYING!
I agree with Lisa Rinna about exactly one thing: “I need a big, fat f—ing drink.” Because maybe if I were drunk, I would have understood any of the arguments in tonight’s episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Pretending you’re Carrie Bradshaw because you look half-ridiculous, half-glamorous — I get. Not being able to stop bragging about your aquarium room — sure, I get that, an aquarium room is like the adult version of a race car bed.
Don’t worry if you haven’t watched the past 16 episodes of RHOBH: We’re still talking about Lyme disease…but this time we’re doing it in muumuus.
Another week, another shot of tiny ponies. And another super-boring RHOBH. This show pales in comparison to Vanderpump Rules. I wish these ladies could spend a little more time at Sur. They could learn a few things from Stassi and Scheana and Schmitty and Sassy (confession: half those names are made up).
The episode gets off to a non-bang with Yolanda FaceTiming everyone she knows and once again discussing her Lyme disease with the blinds drawn. Then, we watch Kathryn get a hearing aid. LITERALLY THIS IS THE FIRST 5 MINUTES OF THIS SHOW.
I think I am Erika Jayne. Stick with me for a moment. I mean, I don’t have a super-sexy alter ego. I can’t sing. I look terrible in leotards. I don’t have an older husband named Tom. But we have other important similarities. We’re both surrounded by gays. I don’t cook. I like fancy things. And we both swear a lot. See? SPIRITUAL TWINS.
I tell all of my friends that unless they give me a specific combination of seven words (“This is a secret — don’t tell, b#@!*”) four days in advance of a conversation, they should expect that I’ll repeat anything they tell me “to anyone.” And I will do it immediately; as soon as they confide in me, I will turn around and rattle off their confessions like a laundry list at the first lady lunch under a pergola my little feet can get me to. As you can imagine…I have many, many friends.
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