Ladies and gentlemen, here it is, my annual disclaimer that I hate recapping the reunion episodes for the Real Housewives Institute. Nothing really happens, and the women sit in a horseshoe of malcontent around Andy Cohen. It’s just shouting and recriminations and absolutely nothing is resolved. That seems especially clear this year because Vicki Gunvalson, the OG of the OC, and Kelly Dodd, the doodie bubble that Bobby Brown had to pull out of Whitney Houston’s butt, are digging their designer heels in and refusing to admit any wrongdoing, completely changing around the very fabric of reality so that they can seem like they are winning an argument. Oh, God, this is going to be a long two weeks.
However, now it’s time for my favorite part of every single reunion recap, when we go around the room and make fun of everyone’s outfits! Here we go.
Vicki: This is clearly a dress by Clye by Aleen III, a knock-off brand of Kyle by Alene Too. It has all the hallmarks of a Kyle Richards dress — asymmetrical cut, off one shoulder, and the same length as Brandi Glanville’s Real Housewives career, which is to say that it’s short but still somehow longer than it should be. This is a very tasteful look for Vicki. Her hair and makeup are flawless, though, and she gets bonus points for owning up to the cosmetic work she got done mid-season while none of us noticed.
Kelly Dodd: Do you guys know what “freak shakes” are? They’re milkshakes that have like a piece of cake, a brownie, 17 pretzels, whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles on top. If freak shakes were a dress, they would be what Kelly Dodd, a car backfiring into a mound of moldy diapers, is wearing at the reunion. There is like one arm bare and one arm totally covered in some sort of Skittles-colored gauntlet. Then, there is a cutout in the boob that wraps around one side, bringing a whole handful of ruching along with it. I stared at this dress for 42 minutes (without commercials) and I still cannot figure out the physics of this thing. It’s like a Mobius strip of bad taste.
Meghan: As Andy points out, it’s nice that Meghan finally doesn’t have to pretend that she is pregnant anymore and has a nice round stomach to rest her hand on. (I’m sorry, but second only to “Trump presidency,” the phrase “baby bump” is the most disgusting phrase in the human language and I refuse to use it.) I like this pale-pink column dress that somehow uses both the cut and the subtle color to hide her bulbous midsection and make her look absolutely stunning. I think Meghan wins.
Shannon: Shannon’s dress is like the entrees at a seated wedding, inoffensive and tasteful and something that you will forget in 20 minutes by the time Aunt Martha falls over at the table after one too many Dark ‘n’ Stormys at the open bar.
Tamra: First of all, her dress is the color of already-chewed raspberries, which is potentially the ugliest color on the face of the Earth. Also, I am confused as to why it has both shoulder straps and what I can only describe as a plate of boob armor that goes around her neck and protects her chest. Tamra looks great. This dress, however, does not.
Heather: I’m a big fan of Heather’s short and flirty magenta number. It might be slightly too young for her, but I think it’s colorful and cute and not nearly as matronly as most of the things we’ve seen her in. Also, with her asymmetrical bob, it’s looking very Jem and the Holograms, which always appeals to my 8-year-old homosexual sensibilities.
I need to make a special shout-out to Mr. Andrew Cohenn (the extra N is for “nasty”) in his outfit when he visits all the Housewives while they get their hair and makeup done. Andy is wearing a Harvard T-shirt. I bet Andrew would love for everyone to think that he went to Harvard. He did not. He went to Boston University or Boston College or one of those other non-Harvard schools in the greater Beantown area. But upon closer inspection, this is not actually an intentional miscue about his education. No, this is a humblebrag that his 28-year-old boyfriend actually is a student at Harvard. Either way, it’s totally gross and I would rather look at the royal-blue Portuguese Man of War that is engulfing Kelly Dodd’s limbs than Andy Cohen’s pretentious Harvard boyfriend T-shirt for one more second.
As for what they say … ugh, do we really have to? The absolute worst is Vicki telling Shannon, “Get off my show. Bye-bye, Felicia.” First of all, “bye, Felicia” is about as old as thinking that Bill Cosby is a wholesome purveyor of frozen gelatin-based desserts. Second of all, it’s “bye, Felicia,” with no second “bye.” Vicki saying “Bye-bye, Felicia” is the vocabulary equivalent of your geometry teacher trying to figure out the dog filter on Snapchat.
Props to Shannon, however, for saying, “Um, I think it’s Andy’s show,” because boy is she ever right. Vicki thinks that she somehow owns this franchise, but if Andy doesn’t find her useful anymore, he will kick her out on her ass implants as quickly as she can say, “Kill All Cancer is not a charity scam.” I’m glad that someone reminded her of that. I don’t think it will ever happen, but I would just love for Vicki to get the ax. If you think I’m obsessed with what getting fired did to Jill Zarin, just wait until Vicki gets fired.
The only good part of the reunion is when Vicki finally tries to say that Brooks is a bad man who duped her without apologizing for anything she did or all the horror that she put the women through. As soon as her co-stars and Andy start bringing up statements she made about Brooks and how she wants to be with him in heaven, well, that sort of ruined her whole big attempt to get back in the good graces of fans. Her revelations about how awful he is fell apart like a piece of bad toilet paper trying to clean the pee off a seat at a Starbucks restroom. Man, Vicki can’t win for losing, especially when it comes to Brooks, which, yes, we are going to talk about if we want to. Sorry Vick-ster.
The rest of the show is monopolized by Kelly Dodd, a mascara tube filled with sewer water and the belches of a million toads, and her insistence that the only person she treated badly this year was her husband, Michael. I don’t understand just what Kelly is doing here. She continues to say things like, “When you point a finger, three are pointing back at you,” like she can only speak in dad jokes and lines she found on Successories posters. And she just goes whole-hog at the women and refuses to let logic or reality infiltrate any of her arguments against them. Even Vicki and Meghan don’t want to take her side. Yes, I also believe that Shannon and her friends set Kelly up at the ‘70s party, but Kelly sitting on her couch in that enigma of a dress bobbing her head and lolling, “drama, drama, drama,” just makes me wonder how many words she knows. Actually, wait, I don’t care.
Now that we’ve talked about their outfits, what will we be left with next week? Hopefully someone has something interesting to say or can change our mind about something we’ve seen this season. So far, I still think that they’re all pretty awful and I don’t think some more time on Andy’s Couches of Doom are going to help.
