Let’s get past the most important matter from this episode first: I realize the phrase is “I couldn’t care less.” I know I say “I could care less” twice in a matter of three minutes and I’ve said it in previous eps as well. I’ve seen your tweets and I’ve received passionate texts from my friend with a better grasp of the English language (I’ve since changed my number—new phone, who dis?). I also use “sike” a lot and sometimes I confuse “they’re” “their” and “there.” And you know what? I could care less. Crap.
Now—the beach house and the mysterious disappearance of Erika Jayne. It was weird; I stand by that. I completely empathize with Erika as I’m sure women everywhere watching do; I can see why she’d prefer to not stay up until 2AM getting tipsy and humping my picnic table. What we later discovered that night— and what you didn’t see—was that her assistant had already driven to Dana Point separately and got a hotel room for her. Again, I didn’t have a problem with her leaving to stay in a hotel—I offered that option when I invited everyone. The issue is why spend the day pretending you’re going to stay over, but as soon as the camera crew leaves you have your assistant come pick you up? It’s not like Erika came to us at the end of the night to say she wasn’t feeling well and thought she’d feel better sleeping in a hotel. No. She asked me to call in a pass for her assistant who then arrived at my security gate. Erika then left so abruptly—and without explanation—that it was clear she had planned to stay at the hotel all along. I don’t think you can use the “I was embarrassed” excuse when the previous day you were explaining your situation in great detail to everyone but me apparently.
Wanting to be the best host possible, I try and console her, and her reaction is not something I was expecting, brushing me off like I’m worthless. So now I’m crying out of frustration—and I’m kicking these ladies out. And, really, I’m not even mad about Dorit telling Erika; she’s like that Kristen Wiig character from SNL who just can’t help herself. It was just, as you saw, we had a blast the night before and things got tense the moment Erika arrived back, before Dorit even mentioned our conversation. I’m not being insecure, I’m just not into hanging out with this group anymore in the moment. It was time to go.
Kyle made shopping bearable for me; I knew I couldn’t wear rompers to New York Fashion Week. I got some great stuff from Kyle by Alene Too, and I promise I didn’t leave the tags on to return later.
In NYC at dinner, Dorit again can’t help herself. I don’t say much besides my POV regarding the Erika thing, but I am listening to everything being said—just in case somebody needs to be held accountable in the near future.