Let’s get right into this one, before it starts to stink like the inside of a borrowed mermaid tail the day after a Nathan’s binge.
CHAPTER ONE: LET’S GO TO PRISON
Like some endless nightmare from which one can’t wake, we’re back in the Countess’s house in the Hamptons. Amanda Sanders, Image Consultant announces that she’s going to pee, delicate teacup that she is. I realized over the weekend that BASIC (Basic-ass Amanda Sanders, Image Consultant) is the kind of chick who keeps her cell phone in her bra at parties. That is, when she wears a bra to parties.
BASIC sidles up to Carole and Aviva’s private conversation and literally asks, “Can I just be involved in this?” Carole starts laughing, which is exactly right. This is pretty much a primer on what NOT to do if you’re ever the rare non-Housewife at a Housewife party. DON’T: insert yourself into arguments you have nothing to do with, pick fights with Housewives, shit-talk them loudly. DO: get drunk, sit back, and enjoy the live entertainment; be Derek J.
Other things that happen at this BYOBBBQS (Bring Your Own BASIC; the extra S is for Shitshow): Sonja pees her pants “with no panties on,” Aviva yells over everyone with her braying horse voice to toast to “women putting pen to paper,” and BASIC sidles up to Carole for the 400th time, prompting Carole to say, “Mindy, I don’t even know you,” my new favorite Smiths song. #BookGate comes up again and it’s now turned into an argument about how Carole doesn’t support Aviva. I don’t know about you guys, but *I* still remember that this shit started with Aviva spreading rumors that Carole didn’t write her own books.
HollaHeather remembers it too, and she yells at Aviva, “Don’t tell me anything, motherf***er!” What’s so amazing about the Housewives shows is that they pull these clips from when the women are at their angriest and saying the most nonsensical things, like Sonja’s “You’ll see your ass where it ends up.” Then they play them over, and over, and over again, forcing us and them to relive it. It’s funny, and then not funny, and then it gets funny again. It’s a gift.
CHAPTER TWO: UP WHERE THEY WALK
The next day, it’s brunch at Sonja’s Borrowed House (Bravo, is this the name of her new spin-off series? I voted for Sonja’s Internal Affairs). Someone’s tooth falls out. Whose is it? Come on. LuAnn just smiles and nods at the hole where Sonja’s tooth just was, like this is something that happens every day. God bless that gap-toothed cheapskate and her Sharpied Chanel bags. Some other stuff happened at this brunch, but this was by far the most interesting part.
With a shot of a Scotty (aw!), we’re back in the city, and Carole, HollaHeather, and Kristen are shopping for mermaid outfits at a costume shop. The Coney Island Mermaid Parade is one of the best and weirdest events in New York, and I’m so happy they’re showing it on RHONY. Nobody’s even complaining about schlepping out to the ends of Brooklyn! See what happens when Ramona’s not around?
Judah Friedlander is the king of the Mermaid Parade, and Carole is the queen. That’s right: Carole has an Emmy and a Peabody and fucked George Clooney and is the goddamn Mermaid Queen of Coney Island. She is literally the coolest human being alive.
CHAPTER THREE: DERM DERM DERM DERM
Meanwhile, over at Sadist Dermatology, Sonja and Aviva are getting shot with lasers and wearing scary ghost masks in the name of looking younger. We learn that Sonja often gets a procedure where blood is injected into her face, perhaps from the bodies of interns whose semesters are up. Aviva accuses Carole and HollaHeather of “verbally raping” her, proving that this woman absorbed NOTHING from the four Sexual Assault Awareness Months she lived through at Vassar. (Happy April?) She also says HollaHeather was standing up to her “like a Brutus.” I’m gonna assume she’s talking about the Popeye character, ’cause I know this 44-year-old woman doesn’t think we’re impressed with her fucking Julius Caesar reference. We all read that in 9th grade, honey. In public school. Calm down.
Sonja says, “Heather’s upset with Aviva because of Carole. She’s playing guardian dog. Is there a such thing as a guardian dog?”
I know Nana didn’t just hear that.
Serrrriously though, what is up with Sonja and Ramona becoming Aviva apologists this season? They’d pretty much drawn a line in the sand at the last reunion, and now all’s well again. I honestly think that Andy Cohen gave their salaries a little bump on the condition that Aviva would have someone to talk to besides her husband, her ex-husband, her lecherous father, her nasty image consultant, and the machine that destroyed her leg.
CHAPTER FOUR: THE LAST TRIP OF THE LEG
Speaking of that last one — sigh, must we? I suppose we must. The cruelty of this episode is that it intertwines some of the most fun moments from the cast — the Mermaid Parade — with some of the ickiest — Aviva visiting the farm where she lost her leg as a child. Ever since this moment showed up in the trailers for this season I have been dreading it. I don’t want to have empathy for Aviva and realize that all of her horrible qualities come from this traumatic event in her childhood and the way it was dealt with by her family. I’m watching a fucking reality show on Bravo. That is way too much humanity for me to deal with from something I put on while I’m doing my nails.
I feel terrible that Aviva lost her leg, because no child should ever have to go through that. OBVIOUSLY. I also heard that Aviva’s family sued the shit out of the family who owned the farm, and that that money set them up for life. So. Can we move on to drag queens, please?
CHAPTER FIVE: TWO FOR TOOF
On the morning of the Mermaid Parade, Kristen and Carole get their make-up done and Carole compares her eyes to peepholes and sonograms. Way uptown, Sonja lights an abundance candle and immediately finds where she left her vibrator. The universe works in mysterious ways, sexy J. Sonja is broke from spending all her money on generic Fixodent and invites a stylist friend over to shop her closet for a mermaid costume. The reaction shots from interns and Marley the dog are giving me LIFE.
LuAnn and Kristen make it down to Coney Island on time and walk right onto the Lucky Cheng’s float. It’s not the float that they’re supposed to be on… but then, hummingbirds aren’t supposed to fly. They decide to stay, which is a good choice. Sonja shows up just as the float is leaving and announces that she’s lost another tooth. When do you think was the last time that Sonja’s been to a dentist? Let that guide your meditation this week.
CHAPTER SIX: LIFE’S A DRAG
Sonja stabs the Countess in the eye with her umbrella, and as a semi-tall lady, oh, do I feel her pain. The editors are really trying to push the Countess-as-drag-queen joke this season, because nobody else will do it. Honestly? It was funny when Bethenny said it, but now it’s just rude. The Countess has a perfectly symmetrical face, scary yoga arms, and is tall as fuck. If she’s a drag queen, then so is every woman who’s ever modeled.
Carole receives the key to Coney Island, and all the ladies meet up with HollaHeather on the beach to drink and read a friendship poem in a semi-circle. I wish the entire series was just these reenacted scenes from The Craft and Sonja’s townhouse. That, and Kristen drinking a Michelob Ultra in her talking head. (Do they feed them booze for those?? That explains a lot.)
None of them really looked like mermaids. Carole looked too good in matching gold, HollaHeather looked like a fun aunt trying to dress up for Easter, Countess had some Madame Butterfly shit going on, Kristen looked like a chick who went straight from the beach to the club, and Sonja, bless her heart, looked like a six-year-old who made her own costume for the school play. But there they sat in the glorious cigarette butt-laden sand of Coney Island, not fighting, not crying, but laughing together, like actual human friends.
Next week: Ramona returns, HollaHeather has a threesome, and Aviva takes it up the butt! Will Sonja’s abundance candle bring her even more vibrators? Will Amanda Sanders, Image Consultant wear a brawr? Will Kristen get any screen time? Who can tell? Until next time, I’ll be like Judah Friedlander: making occasional appearances in Brooklyn.