Well, that was kind of a lame episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. There were some tense conversations and a fashion show, not to mention more Russell than I really wanted to see, but nothing of particular note happened. Other than Brandi’s Alaia cocktail dress, anyway. Alaia is always of note.

What looks like it will be really interesting is next week’s episode, so maybe Bravo thought we’d all still be in a food coma from Thanksgiving and unable to pay attention to anything complicated. Or maybe they simply thought that we’d all still be bleaching our brains in an attempt to forget last night’s episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta, which is accurate.

We kicked off this week at Lisa’s house, as we often do, with Lisa racing home in a tizzy to find the still-not-fired wedding planner and the prototype of her daughter’s wedding invitations. No surprise, the box invite won, but in a slightly less garish white and baby pink instead of eye-searing fuchsia. Not that there’s anything wrong with eye-searing fuchsia, of course. It’s a favorite of mine.

The family also took a little side trip to the kitchen to visit a standard-issue (tattoo’d, “alt,” etc) Top Chef contestant mixing custom-infused vodka cocktails frozen with dry ice and then re-melted with champagne in individual cocktail glasses. I mean, every wedding needs a signature cocktail, right? Lisa seemed to think that all of the hoopla was too silly and complicated, but just like the crazy box invites, she would obviously be ponying up the money for as many as her daughter wanted. After all, to Lisa, a few overly complicated cocktails is just a drop in the bucket. Dry ice pink vodka for everyone!

While that was going on, Adrienne was at her house with a bunch of people who were supposed to sit there and listen to her think about all the things she likes about her shoes. She had a lineup in front of her, from Christian Louboutin to YSL, of some of the highest, most painful-looking stilettos to ever grace a Neiman Marcus shoes department. Adrienne does have very, err, specific taste. The people were there to listen to her because she’s designing a shoe line, but something tells me that Adrienne has a staff that comes by periodically to listen to her rhapsodize about the things in her closet.

We transitioned sharply to something far more serious – a therapy session with Taylor and Russell. Before I say anything else, I will say this: Reputable, conscientious mental healthcare professionals would never, in a million years, allow a session to be filmed for reality television. I’m not even sure I truly processed what either of them (or the therapist, for that matter) was actually saying because I was so distracted by the complete irresponsibility of it all, except for a bunch of silly therapy-speak about “doing the work” and dealing with anger and whatever else, and then Russell bailed early because he had a “meeting.” Whatever that means, in the context of his known “business ventures.”

So, let’s examine why a session like that would be filmed in the first place, shall we? Perhaps the therapist is bucking for some kind of Dr. Drew type stardom, and he saw his fameball clients as a perfect vehicle to get there? Perhaps Russell wanted to ensure that he looked like he was doing the right thing and trying to better himself and he wanted it on camera to further his own storyline? Perhaps Taylor wanted it filmed for similar reasons? Perhaps a combination of all three? That sounds most likely, doesn’t it? Everyone in that scene was loathsome and cynical in their own sad way.

Anyway, things quickly segued to Lisa and her family doing a tasting for all of the food that would be served. It all looked delicious; so delicious, in fact, that I briefly considered going out and finding a husband immediately just so I could go food-tasting (and more importantly, cake tasting). The presence of some cotton candy on the periphery naturally lead to a few minutes of Taylor jokes, even though she’s going to be invited to the wedding. (Presumably because Bravo required it.) Lisa’s impression was pretty decent, if not quite as good as her scratchy Kim voice.

Elsewhere, Kyle and Brandi got together to have a pedicure, despite the fact that the third person (Taylor?) who was supposed to moderate and make sure they didn’t attack each other was a no-show. They spent the time tentatively getting to know each other a little bit better like two real adults, and Brandi even offered to host a round of blowjob lessons from a porn star for everyone at her friend’s Malibu beach house. Oh, Brandi. She’s so tremendously misguided, but clearly well-intentioned and earnest and very much trying to make friends. Unfortunately, she just has no idea how exactly she should do that, which leads to the completely sincere offer of BJ lessons from a porn actress. As a side note, why are this week’s episodes of Real Housewives so penis-centric? Has someone on the production staff not gotten laid recently?

Over at Adrienne’s house, preparations were underway for a fashion show that would feature her shoe line…or just one pair of shoes from her line? I’m not entirely sure. The preparations for the event were exactly like every pre-party scene we’ve ever watched in this entire show, so I used that time to contemplate the circumstances under which I’d consider changing my name if I were to get married. The only time I’d ever do it is if the new last name sounded GREAT with my first name, which may be a little shallow, but I’m comfortable with that. I’m comfortable participating in patriarchy for purely aesthetic reasons, I suppose.

Anyway, that has nothing to do with the party. By the time I clued back in, everyone was headed to the fashion show, and while Taylor, Russell, Kyle and Mario were in the limo, they all talked about the impending awkward meeting with Camille and how awful it would be. Once the whole crew arrived, we got a different tense confrontation – Lisa and Adrienne. I still don’t entirely understand why Adrienne was hurt over where Pandora’s bachelorette party would be held, particularly when you consider that the owner of the hosting casino is also a family friend. Someone’s feelings were going to be hurt either way, and you’d think that Adrienne would have a thicker skin as a business woman. They more or less patched things up, though, despite the fact that there was some sort of lingering dispute over wine distribution. Rich people problems!

Before things got started, Camille and Taylor ran into each other outside of the bathroom in what was easily one of the most uncomfortable moments of the season thus far. Camille very clearly wanted to politely exit the conversation and return to the party, but Taylor kept trying to engage her, finally saying that they’d talk later as Camille tried to round the corner. “Later” being next week, I’m assuming, unless Camille can find some kind of way to get out of it. And if she does, I can’t blame her – Taylor sucks all the air out of the room, and she’s always the victim in her own mind, no matter what anyone else’s side of the story is. I wouldn’t want to have a “sitdown” with her under any circumstances.

The episode finally moved on to the actual fashion show, which was a bit…anti-climactic. The clothes were fine, of course, but we were supposed to be there to see a pair of Adrienne’s new shoes, and almost all of the dresses were long and flowing, thereby obscuring all shoes from view. Adrienne then set the shoes up on a little display afterward and everyone said nice things, but mostly they just made my ankles sore by merely existing. Adrienne only likes one kind of shoe, and that’s a stiletto with a huge platform that can also be used as a weapon in a time of panic, which would perhaps be interesting if we hadn’t all known it all along. Anyway, I was distracted from the entire thing by Brandi, who was wearing yet another gorgeous Alaia cocktail dress. Does she have some kind of Alaia hookup or something? Those dresses are expensive enough to make even Lisa choke.

Things ended there, but not before we saw the most crazypants preview of the season. This week’s episode may have been kind of a yawn, but next week promises to make up for it with the kind of screaming, crying meltdown that we generally only see in New Jersey.

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