Real Housewives of Beverly Hills: Shoes and Fits

Backyards are a wonderful place to have a barbecue or a swing set or a charity fashion show and shoe line premiere party. You know, like any old Thursday afternoon in Beverly Hills. But it wouldn't be a Housewives fashion show without a stupid fight, would it?

Last night's episode was a little boring, wasn't it? Yeah, it was. Know why? Cause it was about Adrienne Maloof, mostly. There is nothing wrong with that. Ms. Maloof is a rather wonderful creature who is worth $300 million dollars or something and wears gold in her hair and has diamonds on the soles of her shoes. But she's kind of like a normal. She's like a real actual human that you could be friends with in real life. We all have that one friend who is just rich as fuck and they're normal and invite you over their house for lavish parties and fly you out to Vegas on a whim and give you their six-months-old iPhone because they wanted the white one so they just bought one when it came out and now they don't need the old one and you carry some clamshell Razr bullshit from like 2004 so, here, you could really use this. That's what Adrienne is like. And I kind of love her for it. She is like the only normal housewife who just wanted to be on this fancy show, not because she needs the money or fame, but because that was the only way she could realize her childhood goal of having a shoe line. Yes, Adrienne is normal, if that is normal.

Yeah, Adrienne has a shoe line which I was all excited to call Maloof's Hoofs until Lisa Vanderpump totally went and said it first. I hate that bitch. No, I don't. I love her. I love her like you love a Joan Collins book during a layover in some state that has a caucus. Adrienne does not love her though, and they got in a fight. A stupid fight. Actually, it was a normal fight. It was a War of the Muggles. So, Adrienne has this charity event that is also a fashion show for some man who is meant to be on reality TV because he spells his name Kevan with an A. Not even Kevin Lee, the Mickey Rooney character in Breakfast at Tiffany who is now a wedding planner, spells his name with an A.

Adrienne has this charity fashion show that is for charity and is for fashion, but is also for shoes. Her shoes. The spangled soles that she has dreamed about as the poorest child in the Billionaire's School where she was raised. She was the 1.1%, but she was a girl with a dream and that would not get her down! She made shoes. Now she would display these shoes in her back yard, because all great innovations in footwear are unveiled next to the pool and beside your child's sandbox. That is how the world works. If you are a Maloof.

Then at the fashion show, everyone showed up. Kyle arrived wearing this ugly lime green thing that her sister Kathy bought at the McDowell Fashion Institute and School for the Blind yard sale and gave to Kyle as a joke but she wore it anyway. Then Brandi showed up with her friends Teri and Mari and all eyes were on Brandi. Get it?! Ha. OK, I have to admit that I kind of like Brandi these days. She's about as classy as Snooki's wardrobe, but she means well. She had that manicure with Kyle and she has her head squarely on her shoulders and was getting along well with Kyle and letting their past fights just wash away and start over. It's kind of like when you're drinking and you start to feel a little queasy and you just need to go to the bathroom and get the barf over with so you can go back and enjoy the rest of the night. They have already barfed, now they need the rest of the night.

They're sitting there getting their nail on (sorry, for a minute I thought I was Sherri Shepherd) and then Brandi is like, "I want to have all the girls over and teach them how to give BJs." That is the problem with Brandi. She's a good kid, but she is just trashy on the inside. It's like she's Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and she's trying her best to be a rich person, but at any second the hooker will come right out and scare all the boring white people with its nasty shenanigans. Oh, Brandi, don't go changing. (Also, last night, I had a dream that I was hanging out on the beach with Brandi and Kyle and it was totally awesome. This shit is really taking over my entire brain.)

The fashion show, yes. So, Brandi, Cari, and Mari were there, and so was Kyle and her gorgeous husband MMmmmm, and so was Camille Grammer with her best gay Howard Bragman (also her publicist and bear of some note). Oh, and so was Taylor. But remember, Camille and Taylor have mad beef because Camille was all like, "You say you got yo' ass beat. Where the scars, yo?" and Taylor was all like, "Boo-hoo. Look at my lips. I hate you!" Taylor is all pissed at Camille and Camille comes out of a meeting in the ladies room (I'll be back real soon, uh oh, uh uh oh) and turns the corner and there is Taylor, dressed like she's going to a Halloween party as "slutty Morticia."

Taylor's reaction was the best. She made this face like she wanted to disappear into the wall, like she wanted to just teleport right out of that spot like Nightcrawler from the X-Men. Just "BAMPF" away and avoid the whole thing, but Camille saw her and there was nothing she could do, so her face just made these slight retractions while the rest of her body stayed right there in that very spot. "Oh HI!" St. Camille said like she has no problem at all, "I didn't see you there." Oh, Camille Grammer. I love her so damn much. She handled it just right. Either there was no guile in her voice or she had it so well disguised that you would never know it. Taylor on the other hand was her usual handbag of nerves. "Oh, Uh. Hi, Camille. I, uh, didn't know you'd be here. We, oh excuse me. Uh, We have to talk. But not now. Oh no, not now. Another time. Uh, bye."

Camille just floated away on a cloud, her feet never touching the ground. "Goodbye, Taylor. We shall speak later," she said with perfect composure and diction. Who ever thought that Camille Grammer would be the living depiction of grace.

The Camille/Taylor run in was sort of a let down, and the confrontation I really wanted never happened. Lisa and the doddering man she drags around with her, Ken, brought their super rich friend Mohammed to the party. He's the one who is suing the Armstrongs for "grift in the first degree" which is a crime and lawsuit that I just made up entirely. He has some sort of trouble with them due to shady business dealings on someone's part and both Taylor and Russell were at the party, but there was no throw down with Mohammed. That is so sad. I wanted him to walk up to Russell and be like, "Where is my money? Pay up now!" But no, everyone is way too classy for that. This is a charity fashion show and shoe unveiling in someone's backyard, after all!

Speaking of Russell and Taylor, how awful was that marriage counseling session? First of all, they went to Charles Sophy, who is some sort of "doctor of Osteopathy." For those of you who don't know Osteopathy has nothing to do with bones (just ask Sally Field and Boniva) it's like some sort of medical discipline that has to do with the harmony of the body or some shit. It's holistic medicine. It sounds like something that hippies or Canadians would use. I'm not going to say that it's not real medicine (it's not) but going to an Osteopath to fix your marriage is sort of like going to an alchemist to get rid of your schizophrenia; it's like going to a phrenologist to get career advice; it's like going to a unicorn to ask it to bring your dead mother back. It's just not a good idea. It's just silly. There are actual professionals who are Doctors of Marriage who will help you. Some of them even work at shelters for abused women. Just saying.

When I saw Russell and Taylor walk into that room with three chairs I knew, I just knew, it was going to be some sort of marriage counseling and my eyes couldn't stop rolling. They just circled and circled around in my head like a ping pong ball in a Solo cup and then they just plopped right out onto the floor and blinked at me like it was a scene from Beatlejuice. I mean, really, people? Putting your therapy on television is always a bad and stupid idea, so shame on you, Russell and Taylor. And shame on you Bravo for airing this. Remember when they were all, "We're going to re-edit the season now that Russell is dead," knowing that people would be watching to see how they handled it during episode one, but now that it's like episode 13 they're like, "Fuck it, no one cares anymore. Just show him in fucking therapy." Man, it was an ordeal to watch.

I couldn't even focus on what they were saying because it was just a bunch of platitudes and silliness and empty words. It was two people talking about their relationship like it was a PowerPoint presentation. "If we can't figure out how to be together, we have to figure out how to not be together in the most successful way." What? "We just want to move forward and have a clean slate." Huh? "He gets angry and beats me and that makes me want to divorce him." Say what? She never said that. It might not be true, but that is the one thing that wasn't said. Oh, man, this season is taking a dark, dark turn. It's like the opening scenes in Sleeping with the Enemy but Taylor is never going to put that damn wig on and go to a small town. It's just all going to end horribly with a black murky death, but not of Taylor faking her drowning so she can get away. No, something worse. Something far, far worse.

Back to this damn shoe party where there were no shoes. Lisa was there too. Yes, Lisa took some time out from her busy party planning schedule with Kevin Lee, the singing Cheez Doodle that is dressed up in a costume from the "Smooth Criminal" video. Kevin Lee shows up with the ugly Pandora's Box invitation for Pandora's wedding and Lisa and everyone is just mooning over it. Her husband, Ken, is there mooning too, but he's just quiet and clutching that dog and doddering around where everyone shoves him. I'm beginning to get a little worried about Ken. Is he entirely healthy? His spark seems gone. What happened to Ken?

Anyway, after the invite, Kevin Lee takes them into the kitchen where Kevin Wizard, the son of Mr. Wizard who is now a mixologist and a constant source of disappointment to his father, is making frozen vodka cocktails with dry ice and magic. Science can do amazing things!

Speaking of Pandora's wedding preparations, we can now get to the big fight of the episode. Yes, it's the Adrienne vs. Lisa "You won't have your bachelorette party at my hotel" fight. I'm just going to say that this is the singular stupidest fight in Housewives history. This is such a stupid fight. Adrienne has her gold extensions in a twist because Lisa's old friend who owns the Hard Rok Cafe Casino and Hotel offered to throw Pandora a lavish Vegas Bachelorette party and Adrienne is pissed Lisa wasn't all, "No, I can't. I'm friends with Adrienne and if I have to ask outrageous favors, I should ask her." That's so stupid. You don't tell a friend who just offered you a giant gift to hold on a minute so you can go to your other rich friend and ask her if she will give you a better gift so, thanks but no thanks. That's just not how the world works.

What is Adrienne's deal? Does she just want her hotel on the show more? Does she just want to lord over everyone else how much more richer she is than everyone? Does she have an intense need to be even rich people's rich friend? If I was her and someone was like, "Lisa's daughter is having her bachelorette party somewhere else," I'd think, "Good, now I don't have to shell out for it and listen to 20 shrill girls scream and cackle for an entire weekend." Stupid fight. The best was when Adrienne was like, "We'll be there that weekend too," and made a little grimace to be like, "The jig is up, sister. We're going to get that screen time whether you like it or not." Adrienne, this is not a fight. Move on!

In classic Beverly Hills Housewives fashion though, they totally buried the lede. The real fight here is about Lisa's wine (she has a wine? Is she Ramona in disguise?) and how she wanted the Palms to carry it but they don't. You can watch it above. I think that's what all this tension is about, not favors and children and parties. That is all a mask. That is all a mask for some business deal gone awry or a favor that was never fulfilled.

And out in the back yard, while this fluffly kerfuffle is going on, gowns are parading down the runway, covering up Adrienne's shoes, keeping the real reason for the party under wraps. That is why we love these ladies. We come for the shoes, but you can't quite see them. They only come in little glances, little peeks out from a fluttering hem, little toe jabs when they fight or run into each other at parties or forgive each other or have their counseling on camera. Just little flashes, little blinding glittery bits that we tune in for, and each week we get one, if even just a little sparkle.

That reminds me, know who wasn't at the party? Kim Richards! She was not there at all. She wasn't even mentioned. She was just totally ignored. Where was Kim? Where is Kim, always? At home. She was in the Sad Valley Ranch so far away curled up on the couch with her boyfriend Pumice. They were snuggled up on the couch and she was feeling warm and snuggly like a belly full of apple cider and she just didn't want to go anywhere. She rubbed her face up on her rocky boyfriend and could feel the chafe on her cheek. Yes, it was a little painful, like kissing with lots of stubble, and left a burn afterwards, but it was better than the pain of going to another of those damn parties, of the stabs and pains of all of those women looking at her and judging her and thinking she wasn't good enough. No, she was just happy right where she was.

Then there was a knock at the door. Kim got up to answer it (it's so hard for a rock to move quickly) and there was a chauffeur there in a coat and hat and a black town car idling in her stumpy driveway, butting its bumper out into the quiet suburban street. "Ms. Richards, I'm here to take you to the party," he said. Oh, how many times men had showed up at her door in their cars to take her to parties and how many times she had gone. That is one thing they used to say about Kim Richards: she never misses a party. She stood there for a minute, holding the door in her hand and looking down at her jeans, her undone hair drooping a bit over her head. She looked back into the house and thought about what she could throw on at the last minute and what excuse she could feed Pumice to run out the door again. But then she turned back to the chauffeur, "Know what...what's your name?" she asked. "Kevin." "Know what, Kevin. I don't think I'm going to make it tonight." She reached into her pocked and fished out a rumpled $20. "Here, just. Just tell them I was sick, OK?" "Sure." he said.

She closed the door behind him and saw the headlights flash through the window in the front door and reflect on the bare wall. He was gone. It was all gone. Another night on the couch. She fell right back into the nook that her body had carved out of the couch and it was still warm. Another episode of House Hunters International was about to start and that is all Kim wanted, to sit there and watch. To make her little escape. "Can we move to the next place they visit?" she asked Pumice with a silly grin on her face. "Of course we can!" she said. "I just want to move. I just want to go."