Real Housewives of Miami: Pigs in Hell

Last night's episode of Bravo's real-life Dexter series, joy and decorum continued to be brutally murdered by the coven of old witches that stalks the beaches and swamps of southern Florida.

Ugh. These ladies! These terrible, terrible ladies. Just when I think I might, might not hate one of them, she goes and does something stupid and it's back to the drawing board. Well, OK, Marysol. She's probably the best one, right? And she doesn't seem to do anything mean. But she does do dumb things! This was the episode where her mysterious Continental boyfriend proposed to her in an empty restaurant and she was all emotional. This will be marriage number three for Ms. Thang, so that's something of a milestone right there. (It was sort of funny that Phillipe apparently went to ask her father for her "hands." I hope her father was like "Huh? I gave those away years ago. What're you talking about?") But she's happy about the whole thing, she thinks, even though they haven't been together very long. In fact, inspired by the impulsiveness of the engagement, Marysol blurted out "Let's go to Aspen and get married in the snow!" Just an impromptu wedding in the snow. You know, like what some dreamy weirdo who doesn't really understand the world of logistics would plan. "Ohhh, I guess there's only snow for like two more weeks, huh?" Marysol cooed contemplatively. Phillipe shrugged his shoulders and said "Then we run away and elope." Marysol nodded her head. "OK..." And so that was that. They were going to run away to the snow to have their snow wedding and Marysol's head was full of spun sugar about it. See, I like her. But lady's not the world's most productive thought factory, y'know?

Anyway, she of course had to have a little celebratory chat with her mother, the terrible toad creature that crawled out of the swamp one night after a mysterious military science plane crashed in the Everglades. The old thing tottered in and placed itself on Marysol's couch, next to some old queen they're friends with who was prattling on about Elizabeth Taylor (like they all do, always, those old queens!). Marysol showed her the honking big ring Phillipe had given her and the toad woman croaked in approval and then Marysol leaned down and pulled up a big cardboard box with packing tape on it and said "Guess what this is!" and Marysol's mother, in an excited voice, said "Ohhh, food?" Ha! Why would food be in a big cardboard box wrapped with tape on Marysol's floor? I like that thinking. I bet Marysol's mother wanders around the house pointing at things, guessing what's inside of them. The breadbox with a picture of bread on it: "Ohhh rats." The medicine cabinet: "Uh oh, beetles." A cookie jar on the kitchen counter: "Ahh jais, cantaloupe." I would very much like to see the world through this creature's eyes. Not for very long, because it would be blurry and dark and echoy and scary, but for an hour maybe. "Ohh, dandelions," I'd say, looking at the dishwasher.

But yeah, Marysol's mother was happy and approved of M's dress and lamented the fact that she couldn't go to the wedding. But it takes a lot of preparation to get her ready to fly, she said, and there just wasn't enough time. I'd imagine that's true. Lots of lashing various body parts to other parts so she doesn't come undone mid-flight, making sure the gas levels in her blood are calibrated perfectly, lying soaking in a vinegar bath for at least three days. Important things that ensure not only her comfort, but the safety of the other passengers. So oh well. It'll just be Marysol and Phillipe. What can you do.

While all this was going on, Alexia was planning a pig roast. This is something that's common in Cuban culture they kept telling us, which is funny, because I think cooking meat outdoors and having a party about it is pretty common in many, many cultures. Human beings, despite all of our differences, tend to like cooking and eating meat outdoors. But yes, a Cuban pig roast it was, meaning Alexia and her husband had to go to a pig farm to pick out their dinner. That was a little morbid, but it was fun to see Alexia in high heels at a pig farm and plus we got to see one pig rolling around in slop, squealing horribly, and Alexia was all "Ohh hi Cristy!!" and the two had a nice conversation. Alexia was happy to finally see where Cristy lived! Of course they didn't pick Cristy for the party, because she was already invited. Cut to the poor dead thing they did choose lying on the kitchen counter, and Alexia's husband wanted her help cleaning and preparing it and Alexia was all "Nooooo" and wouldn't have a thing to do with it. Ha. Alexia's obviously seen lots of dead pigs before. Clearly this pig roasting thing is such a traditional, familiar thing for Alexia to do. She just seemed so comfortable with the whole process, didn't she?

Finally it was time for the party, and all the girls teetered in on their heels and oohed and ahhed about the house. That old woman, Lea, showed up, exhausted from a shopping trip in which she'd creepily refused to actually try clothes on, opting instead to put things on over what she was already wearing. She said it was because she just doesn't like the shopping process, which, what?? You're on Real Housewives! How can you not like the shopping process? What are you doing here?? Oh well. While Lea wrapped herself in various horrible colored fabrics and her friends cooed and clapped and tried to hide the fact that they were visibly trembling, Cristy told us in an interview that she just doesn't get Lea's fashion, it's just all over the place and doesn't match and nothing's right. Cristy is not wrong about that! Lea dresses like Ruth Buzzi's alcoholic younger sister, and it speaks volumes about her psyche. But it was funny that after this big fashion lecture from Cristy, she showed up at Alexia's pig roast wearing an all white denim outfit. Ohhh watch out! Hey, uh, Cristy? A word of advice. Don't write checks your white jean outfit can't cash, y'know? People who live in white denim houses shouldn't throw stones, OK? Lessons to live by. (Boom! Pig, roasted.)

After Cristy's White Fantasies fashion show, Alexia invited everyone to go over and look at the other pig. Everyone was impressed ("Ohhh I can see his balls!" said one genteel guest, I forget who) except for Lea, who was horrified. Lea apparently doesn't eat meat, but neither does Larsa, as Larsa pointed out, and Larsa didn't make some huge fuss about there being a dead animal near her. But Lea did! Ohhh did she ever! She kept saying "I can't, I'm done, I can't." Oof. When you're competing for attention with a dead pig, it's maybe time to put the wine glass down and climb into a tree and think about things for a few months. But Lea lacks that perspective, so she just kept on going. As any gracious guest would say of the food their hosts are preparing, Lea said "That is barbaric. It's just barbaric." Nice! Good party skills, Lea. You're just the greatest. So she kept on having this bullshit freak-out so everyone would pay attention to her and think she was sooo principled and above-it-all, because she is the worst, and people halfheartedly indulged her, Lea sitting on a couch doing her crazy laugh that she tries to use as a cover for having just said mean or embarrassing things. No one bought it, but they pretended to, because whatever. Lea ain't worth it.

Sadly, there was more laughing to come. Once the pig was done cooking, they all sat down to eat. Annoying Larsa stared at Marysol as Marysol ate a lot of pig and talked about it to us in interview about how much Marysol ate, and it was just like "Oh, shut up." If you're at a pig party, you can eat some damn pig, so why don't you cram it, Larsa. See, Larsa is another one that I think I don't mind, but then she has the pig moment or we see a brief clip of her trying to hire a new nanny and being all "No, that's too old. I don't want to wipe anyone's butt." Or "That's too young. I don't want to babysit anyone." or "I don't want anyone with a weird name. I just can't." Larsa, you will not be taking care of anyone. If anything, you will hire a nanny to babysit your nanny, if need be. Don't sweat it. Just go brush your hair some more, and don't make fun of someone for eating pig at a pig party.

ANYWAY, that was all happening, but mostly Lea was gulping wine and Phillipe decided to tell everyone that he and Marysol were getting married. Well, he started to, but then Lea had to get involved and bellow "Oh did you propose?????" and the instant Phillipe confirmed that, Lea, who was sitting next to Phillipe, got this weird look of anger and distress on her face and immediately started acting like she and Phillipe were dear friends, touching his arm and shoulder, saying "Well, get down on one knee!" and all this stuff that made no sense. (Lea, he already proposed. It already happened, earlier. That is how time works.) And obviously she was buddying up to Phillipe because he had the spotlight for a moment and she needed to step her way into it. And this made her angry, that she would have to cede any attention to this weirdo foreigner, sooo she started making jokes like "Well I need to know how long you've been together, so I can figure out how long it's going to last! [horrible laugh]" Or "Well if you needed a green card, you should have just told us!" [horrible laugh] (And the implication there being that had he known he could, Phillipe obviously would have gone to anyone but his girlfriend/fiance for help. Y'know what I mean? Like "Oh, honey, you didn't need to use Marysol. We woulda helped you! Jeez." It basically was a way to make Marysol feel like an unimportant idiot. Perpetrated by Lea, the unimportantest idiot of them all.) Lea kept saying these awful, awful rude things and then doing her shrill, ear-bleed cackle thing like it was no big deal and everyone was miserable. "Oh no I'm kidding!" she said at one point, like Phillipe and Marysol were being no-fun dopes for not really loving it when, five seconds after they announced their engagement, some eighty-year-old drunk woman laughingly accused them of having a green card wedding and predicted their divorce. Yeah, Lea. What old poops Phil and Mary were being! Jeez, guys. So uptight. Anyway. Lea is the fucking worst. She is really so terrible.

Speaking of terrible. The party was done, all the pig eaten, Marysol wheeled off in a dolly because she couldn't move, so full of pork was she. It was the next day and it was time for Cristy to go try on some clothes for some fashion thing. She knows some Miami-based fashion designer or something and they asked her to do a runway show for them, which she of course agreed to do, but not without making it seem like she was doing them some grand favor. Cristy was all excited about it because the clothes were fresh and rad and totally cool and out-there. ("If you're expecting some kind of New York fashion show, don't. You're gonna be surprised," she said. Oh don't worry, Cristy! We weren't! We were all pretty much aware already that a fashion show for a clothing store in Miami starring Cristy Oinksman was not going to be quite the same thing as a New York Fashion Week show. Thanks for the heads up, but it's really unnecessary. We got it. We're right there with ya.) When it was time for Cristy to try on the clothes... oh boy! As one lady put it "Sexy, sassy, classy." Usually the word that comes after "sexy" and "sassy" is "classy." That's just what classy means these days. My favorite of the outfits that Cristy tried on and strutted out in, soooo pleased with herself, was just three strips of black fabric glued to her body. That's all. If they made that outfit in white denim, I think we'd really be in business.

Poor Adriana had that terrible art show ("It didn't sell as well as expected..." Did you sell a single painting? Then it went better than you should have expected.) and is now down in the dumps about it, but at least Lea bought her own portrait, so there's something. So Adriana drove over to Lea's house to deliver it and there was this really funny moment where she got out of the car and the painting in the back seat started to rise up out of the car and I was like "How is she doing that? Do her seats automatically do that?" and then I realized that her tiny curly haired son was behind the painting. Surprise! It was funny. Anyway, Lea very quickly shooed the boy off so she could talk to Adriana in private. They sat down and Lea immediately said "What's going on with you?" And then she went into this whole thing about Adriana going out until 2am one time and dancing with those guys. Once! She did it once. And yet Lea was very concerned. At first Adriana was just like "Oh, yeah, I went out. Work's busy, I'm stressed." You know, whatever. How people are. But Lea kept needling and needling and needling, saying "Well, I think it means you're really unhappy. And you have to pay for your son's private school, so why are you out having fun when you should be home seeing your boyfriend? I mean, it's really not going to work." And then she kept harping on Adriana's finances until finally Adriana burst into tears and Lea sat back with a contented look on her face. Lea likes nothing more in this world than to know that, no matter how much gnawing anxiety and hate and anger and fear and ugliness is rampaging around inside her, that someone else, at least right now, feels worse than her. That is Lea's chief pursuit in life, getting the brief high of making someone feel really shitty about themselves. That and getting drunken attention at parties. Those two things are what feed Lea's ancient black soul. With just the hint of a smile, Lea leaned across the table and comforted Adriana. Adriana who had been a little stressed and disappointed earlier in the day, but mostly she'd been OK, mostly she'd been having a fine day. Well, no more. Now she could see, and she was so grateful to Grandma Lea for pointing it out, that she is miserable and slipping and losing everything that's good in her life. Thanks, Lea. Good work.

Then, finally, it was time for the Aspen trip, and there Marysol and Phillipe were, sitting by the fire in the lodge, talking about this crazy thing they were about to do. Phillipe was saying romantic things he'd read in greeting cards (that's actually how he learned to speak English — for the longest time he'd address everyone as "my dearest," as in "My dearest grocery man, I will have plastic, please," because he thought that's how everyone said things) and Marysol was sitting there with cotton candy puffing out of her ears and glassy weirdo eyes and you could tell something was not sitting quite right. She could tell too, but she couldn't pinpiont what exactly was wrong. She just felt anxious. She felt nervous. But Phillipe comforted her and told her everything was beautiful, and... I don't know. He's so insistent on this. Is it terrible to suspect there's something else going on here? That maybe his motives aren't that pure? I mean, I hope they are. I do. Marysol isn't really a mean person, it doesn't seem. But she also doesn't seem very bright when it comes to these things. So, I hope she's not getting duped. I guess we'll find out next week when the actual wedding takes place.

For now there's just Marysol trembling by the fire, feeling nervous. Lea's words keep echoing in her head. "It's not going to work, it's not going to work..." She can't even remember when Lea said that exact phrase, but she can hear it in her head, so she must have. Of course what Marysol doesn't know, doesn't see, is Lea, hiding under a nearby table, whispering "It's not going to work, it's not going to work" through a paper towel tube, the feverish sweat of getting her fix soaking through the bright, bright clothes that Cristy would never approve of.