What happened last night on Real Housewives of Atlanta? Well, that’s a complicated question. The show was undoubtedly less cringe-worthy than most of the season has been thus far, probably owing to Phaedra conspicuous near-absence, but it still included moments like Kim hitting on an NFL player barely out of college and Phaedra’s wholesale dismissal of modern neonatal science.
And ultimately, that’s why the Atlanta housewives are my favorite (other than my obvious hometown bias, of course): even an average, midseason episode contains more pure entertainment than the best episode of, say, Real Housewives of DC. Whatever Bravo pays these women, it’s not enough.
We started off with Sheree this week, who opened the episode laying on an Aston Martin convertible that she had ostensibly bought for herself, but which she no longer has because it got repossessed by her divorce lawyer. It was a ragtop – can’t the James Bon car people make a hardtop? Or can Sheree just not afford it? When her daughter came over to see the new car, Sheree also announced that she’d be in an Atlanta-based version of Dancing with the Stars, which requires her to raise a couple thousand dollars for charity to participate. So she was going to pay money (to a charity, at least) to embarrass herself in a silly outfit in front of lots of people, plus a reality TV camera crew. Sounds like a high-quality decision to me.
Next up was Kim, who also had something new to unveil: her brand new office, deocrated entirely in gold leaf and pictures of herself, and her daighter Arianna’s room, which was actually kind of cool for a little girl. Kim claimed that it cost $60,000, and predictably, her older daughter was not amused. Her room is bigger, but she shall not be treated to a five-figure redesign! (Except she totally will because Kim will run out of ideas for spending “her” money sooner or later. And even if it’s later, it’s still probably next week.)
Over at Cynthia’s house, Nene came over to meet with her sister while she was out and about. They were helping Peter set up his marriage proposal later in the day, and they went about scattering rose petals and lighting tea lights in advance of the couple’s arrival. And then…they didn’t leave. And more people showed up. Cocktails were poured, small talk was had. Nene acted like Nene.
And then Cynthia came home with Peter, carrying her discarded fake eyelashes, wearing a polar fleece and looking confused. If someone tried to propose to me like that, when I’ve already taken off my eyelashes and with a bunch of my random drunk friends standing around, I’d kick him in the balls. And not to mention the cameras. Oh god, engaged on reality TV. And then everyone stood around with their cocktails and told them to go upstairs and have sex. Let’s all have a moment of silence for Cynthia, who survived for a good six or so episodes of Real Housewives before having her dignity forcibly removed.
Everyone seemed disappointed by the fact that Cynthia didn’t lose her mind or cry or fall to the floor and convulse in happiness, but Peter admitted paying no mind to the fact that she wouldn’t want to be proposed to like that. He did it how he wanted to do it, and screw her if she didn’t like it. Cynthia, I have one very important question for you: do you still have Leon’s number? Can you use it? Use it now, before it’s too late and you marry…that. That man who just asked you to answer the most important question of your entire life in front of Nene Leakes and a Bravo camera crew.
Speaking of horrible debacles, Phaedra was the next housewife on last night’s docket. She met with her birth planner (or whoever that was) and her assistant in an effort to plan her post-birth wardrobe and create a scheme for bringing as many rhinestones as possible into the hospital. Her birth adviser wanted to talk with her about baby formula and circumcision and other necessary post-birth subjects, and she also tried to stop Phaedra from strapping a half dollar to the baby (what does that even do?), but Phaedra, in her infinite ignorance and pretension was unbowed. She is not interested in things like facts and medicine and science and anything that’s not covered in glitter, patterned polyester or a combination of the two. And don’t you forget it.
While all of that mess was going on, Sheree was taking dance lessons. By “taking dance lessons,” I mean that she was flailing around like a white girl who hadn’t had enough cocktails (Depending on the white girl, the cocktails may make the flailing better or worse. In the case of the white girl who’s writing this, better.) and then acting completely baffled when her teacher brought in a real dancer to show her what to do. She was sure she was doing exactly what the pro was doing. Positive. Poor Sheree. If only her delusional self-confidence was as charming and batty as Kim’s.
At Kandi’s studio, Lawrence had dropped by to record his vocal on a song that even he thought was exceptionally gay. And if Lawrence looks at something and goes, “Wow, that’s really flaming,” you can be sure that, in the timeless words of Mean Girls, it’s almost too gay to function. Just as it should be! If he’s going to be the next RuPaul, he needs to be getting on Cher’s level with the rhinestones and fabulousness. He certainly has the voice to back it up – I’ll iTunes “Closet Freak” as soon as it comes out.
In other news, now that Cynthia is officially engaged, it was time to shop for wedding dresses. I wasn’t aware that wedding dress shopping provided an opportunity for free Moet, and if I had known that, I would have been out there shopping for poofy white dresses every weekend. I don’t have a ring (or a boyfriend), but that doesn’t mean I can’t shop…right? I mean, I’m going to get married one day. I think. What other things can I do that would also provide free Moet?
On a more serious note, Cynthia sat at the bridal store while dresses were being pulled for her and talked with her mom and sister about the abuse that her mother had suffered at the hands of one of her ex-husbands, and with a family history like that, it’s not surprising that Cynthia is a little skittish about the whole marriage thing. Hell, I’m skittish about the whole marriage thing and I don’t even have a bad family history. Forever just seems like an exceptionally long time, and it must seem even longer for someone who saw what Cynthia saw as a child.
As far as the dresses went, they were…uninspiring. It looked like they were doing the consultation in someone’s basement rumpus room that had been converted into a bridal salon, and all of the samples looked a little too big for Cynthia. She’s a tall, thin woman with wonderful skin and regal shoulders – someone get that woman into a real wedding dress, please. Some of the dresses were pretty enough, but Cynthia’s clearly worn plenty of pretty dresses in her life. She needs a supermodel dress. If she’s getting married, that is – her mom and sister seemed dubious. Count me among the dubious as well.
At Dancing with the Atlanta Stars or whatever the event was called, Sheree was being…Sheree. She wouldn’t open her own car door when she got out at the valet, she refused to let the event’s hair and makeup people touch her, and when she got kicked out of the hallway she had appropriated for her own “glam squad” (kill me now, I hate that phrase), she acted like she was the one who had been slighted. Oh, and Lawrence hit on her dancing partner in front of all the cameras. In case anyone was wondering, not all male dancers are gay. Strange but true! Not even the ones wearing tight black onesies.
Out in the crowd, the rest of the housewives (except for Phaedra, who was apparently busy at home, bedazzling her hospital gown for the impending birth) were in attendance and being generally embarrassing to both themselves and the city. Nene showed up with Gregg and they both pretended that the other wasn’t there, Kim showed up and was just…Kim, and the only person who gave any kind of reasonable donation to the sponsoring charity was Kandi. Probably because she’s the only one who has a real job. She gave between $500 and $1000, while someone else at the table gave $20. I’m betting it was Kim, because she’s got to save up the rest of her money for gold-leafed pictures of herself.
Sheree managed to not fall on her face or knock down her partner, but in case anyone thought that we’d get out of the event without any sort of ridiculous, cringe-worthy embarrassment, Kim saved the day. Instead of keeping her feelings to herself, she ran down Kroy Biermann, who plays for the Falcons, and told him that he had a great ass and then requested that he turn around so she could see it again. And it worked! It worked like a charm! Not only did he find her later to offer his number, but Kim and Kroy are now dating. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure she’s got Big Poppa stashed in a storage unit somewhere for emergencies.
And I have to tell you, I hit on a guy like that once too. In the stands at a UGA football game. And I dated him for a year and a half, ladies, so the next time you see a guy you like, go ahead and treat him like a piece of meat to his face. You’ll be surprised at how much BS you can skip that way. Sometimes men require the cavemen approach, except you be Tarzan and they be Jane. But if it doesn’t work, it was Kim’s idea, not mine.