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I have to make this short because it’s a holiday and even though I’m not Jewish I took the day off, went to my shrink, got my nails done with that new gel shellac polish -- it lasts three weeks! -- and bought a pair of shoes. I want to revisit some housewife rules. These are straight out of the Real Housewives Handbook that we received when we signed onto the show. I want to begin with Housewife Rule #13: Desperate times call for dinner.
LuAnn and Ramona and Sonja
Real men cook. I’ve never seen so many male chefs in a kitchen so excited about searing a roast. I know there is a toaster oven joke here somewhere but I’m too tired to find it. Real women, on the other hand, drink. Duh. It’s Housewives.
Housewife Rule #86: When the conversation veers towards something you don’t want to discuss, call in reinforcements.
LuAnn executes this rule in the first scene like a pro. Jacques is at her side with red wine and kisses just as talk turns loud and St. Barth-y. This episode was about mixing and matching the housewives in a number of different combinations to, ideally, cleanse our minds and souls from the horror otherwise known as a tropical island paradise. Some combinations worked better than others.
But first, I’m obsessed with Sonja’s headband, if Olivia Newton John doesn’t ask for it back, I want it. I also want to split the atom. Who did split the atom anyway? In a mushroom cloud of clarity Sonja says what everyone else is thinking. I thought that was Ramona’s job.
Ramona says it takes time to get to know her. How much time does it take? One drink? Three? Six? It took me two. Two beers at our first lunch with Mario and I was already calling her Bunny.
Me and Heather
I wonder, if when you split the atom, you get a cherrybomb? Cherry bombs make me lovey. I love Jon, I love Vivs. I’m free with my love when the person is not in front of me, or sitting next to me on a stool. I lo-lur-luh. . .I choked on my love for Heather! I can’t say those three words back. I suffer from love avoidant disorder. Russ diagnosed it some time ago and watching myself in this scene I think he may have a second career in psychotherapy. As you can see I’d rather make out with Heather, and do, than affirm our love by saying it back.
Heather and I did not need to make up, but we wanted to kiss. And do shots. A lot of shots. Do you believe Aviva hasn’t done a shot? Not even at Vassar? I think more people should do shots. But not too many. And never when driving.
Boom Boom, Bam Bam, Runaway Bride. Jamaica Jamaica? Love, Rads, size matters if it’s small, look at my shoes, get out of my closet, brisssss. That sums up the night for me and Heather. At least from what I can remember.
Heather and LuAnn
Heather and LuAnn don’t make out or fall in love. They don’t even, for all that talk, have sushi that I can see. LuAnn does almost choke on an egg. Speaking of eggs, Jacketi Jac and LuAnn are giving their eggs to the International Monetary Fund or taking them to Israel. It’s not quite clear. What is clear is that LuAnn is running out of eggs, even as she is choking on one, and it’s time to get serious.
Heather invokes Rule #315 in this scene. For information on Rule #315, see below.
Me and Heather and Aviva
Housewife Rule #315: If the conversation is boring you, eat.
I hate the taste of water, and I’m not the only one. Winston Churchill once said of water, "It's what rusts pipes." And he was a Prime Minister. I don’t like water but I do like pink cigarettes (so did Winston). And look, Vivi is back! Here’s my girl. The health obsessed fun kooky neurotic Aviva that I like. We bonded over my new smoking habit. In the next scene, I quit.
After getting to our table like three old ladies shuffling into an Upper East Side bingo hall, Heather and I shovel food in our mouths like a perfectly choreographed ballet. When we realize there is no talking about anything but the trip, we eat. We eat and eat and eat. I don’t recognize Aviva at this dinner. I can’t tell if she reminds me of Clint Eastwood in Escape from Alcatraz, Dale Harding the high-strung paranoid in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, or Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Either way, I would not want to be the target to her assassin. The girls got aim.
Sonja and Me
Rules #549 and #7, respectively: Do NOT try to recap a fight within 48 hours of the fight. And, call Peyman back.
Sonja and I regroup in Peyman’s office. Oh my God, can you believe this? In a town of 8 million people what are the chances of running into a guy you went on one date with and then never called? Apparently the chances are good. Better than fitting six Housewives into a $40 million dollar house. And seriously, if Peyman is 31 then I’m 12.
Sonja and I have fun drinking prosecco, until I have the nerve to try to talk. She’s having none of that. I am apparently not allowed to remember the trip. Or if I do I can only remember it one way -- the best time of my life until Aviva arrives. I am not allowed to not say Aviva. Aviva Aviva Aviva. At least it’s an nice name to repeat. If only I’d had food while she talked over me, again, about Aviva –- because then I could have followed Housewife Rule #315 (When the conversation is boring you, eat). I do have prosecco, though. (Thank god.)
I am also not allowed to talk about my hostessing skills because people get their periods on vacations, glasses get broken, and Peyman is waiting to take our bust measurements.
Ramona and Sonja
Ramona is a good friend. But on another note -- who is that making tea? Where is Millsaps? And does anyone know the New York City health code regarding number of pets and people allowed per bed? I think in the Morgan townhouse, there might be violations.
Sonja and Aviva
I actually love you, said Aviva. Wow. I couldn’t even say that to Heather! But uh-oh, whenever someone says warm and fuzzies it never ends well. Sonja apologizes, Aviva does not, and Sonja is pissed. Sonja was one person before the trip, a different person after, but Aviva was too. I was one person before the trip then two people after the trip. One smoked and drank, and the other did the usual things.
I wrote an apology.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’ll never understand or forgive myself. . .There’s one thing that I do know and that is that I love you, Sonja. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you.”
Okay, fine, so it’s Rhett Butler. But its my favorite movie apology of all time.
It’s never a good sign when a woman arrives with a black hat, then takes it off and puts it back on again before the pizza even arrives. That didn’t go well. What was taking the pizza so long, anyway? Aviva owns her behavior and Sonja has a laundry basket full of problems. You can own your hat and your laundry, but you can’t own your friends.
Two more shows, 12 cherry bombs and three hat pins to go. See you next week.
P.S. I love New York. There, I said it.