The only thing I hate more than hang nails, paper cuts, and bitches who stand on the stairs of the subway talking on their cell phones is people who say, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” It was once a cute marketing slogan, but it has now taken on a cliched undertone that makes it sound like the happy birthday song of linguistic expression. Even worse are people who think they’re clever and ament the saying to whatever sad locale they happen to be vacationing in. “Whatever happens in Boca, stays in Boca.”
Anyway, this motto was never less applicable to last night’s visit by the Real Slot Machines of Hoover Dam Junction. Whatever happened to them stayed in Vegas and in the homes of the five million or so viewers that were going to watch their antics on the tube. Nothing stayed in Vegas, it was splattered all across our retinas — the fallen sequins on the floor of a reality show. We will never get over it. However, the whole trip was pretty tame. Well, at least by Housewives standards.
First of all, the producers made the brilliant decision to rent a party bus for all the ladies to go from LA to Vegas so that, instead of a 45 minute flight, we got about 8 hours of these crazy ladies patting their weaves as they sat in traffic. NeNe Leakes, of course, had to work so she flew “first class” all the way to Vegas. She is very rich, bitch!
Thanks to the bus ride of doom, we got to hear all about how Kandi farts when she has an orgasm and often holds her mans head down in her crotch even after the wind has been broken so that he won’t stop. This is a sexual manuever I would call the Dutch Gas Chamber if that wasn’t in incredibly poor taste to all the Jews from the Netherlands who died in the Holocaust. Maybe we can call it a “Parisian Bunker” because it is full of gas and there is no escaping it, like in WWI. Sorry, this is really going to piss off someone. I should stop here.
What else did we learn on the bus? Oh, that Porsha won’t go to strip clubs because she thinks her husband won’t allow it. The girls got all upset and Phaedra said, “As a Christian, what better place than a strip club to find the lost souls?” Amen, Sister Parks. I want to go to her church. Speaking of Pheadra and all the lessons she can teach us, she informed the group (and by extension the world) that the original pregnancy test was to pee on a rabbit and if the rabbit died then the pee-er was pregnant. If it lived, the buns were not yet placed in the oven. According to “the Internet” which is always right about all things (especially gay rumors about your favorite actor) it is false. But can’t EPT get a “fast as a rabbit” on the package or something? Can’t First Response have Birthie the Bunny as their new spokesperson? Maybe you can get a Cadbury Creme Egg free with each test. You’re going to need some chocolately goodness, either to celebrate or drown your sorrows, no matter what the results.
The ladies all got to Las Vegas and Cynthia Bailey put on her fake afro and refused to take it off until at least three people told her that she looked like a drag queen. For these women, that is the highest compliment that can ever be paid. They all piled into a limo to go to the Crazy Horse, which they told Porsha was a burlesque show but it was really a titty bar. Phaedra said, “How can you be so stupid to think the Crazy Horse is a burlesque show?” Well, sorry to make you wrong twice in one night Ms. Phaedra Parks, Esq., but the Crazy Horse in Paris is actually a burlesque show, so maybe Porsha is just more cultured than everyone and thought this was a sweet little show at the Paris Hotel or something.
Porsha said, once again, that she would not go to a strip club because she doesn’t like them and her husband wouldn’t want her to go to one. NeNe, who used to work at a strip club (and who probably had the best stripper name ever, like Chinchilla or Ebonneese or Infinity Pool or something) was all offended. The big talk then turned to how Carvell, Porsha’s husband who is a real life Cookie Puss, allowed her to go on this trip and she’s proud of him for this.
OK, I’m going to break down this Carvell, who is controlling thing right now. Yes, he is controlling (if I was a giant puddle of soft serve ice cream, I’d be pretty controlling too). Period. He is. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Porsha likes to be controlled. Now, if his control means he beats her or is keeping her from doing the things that she wants to do, then it is a problem. However, I have a feeling that Porsha is happy to live off his money, cook his meals, do everything for him, and sit around and watch The Price Is Right all day while wearing some velour sweatpants with a logo emblazoned across the ass. I think that is her dream, actually. When she was 16, she used to sit in her room and think that one day there would be a husband who she would do everything for, and he would buy her everything she ever wanted. So yes, he’s controlling, but if she’s fine with that then, well, good for her!
I can see how that’s a problem with this group of women, however. All of them, with the exception of Porsha, are essentially self-made in one way or another, and I think that that is part of what makes this show so interesting to watch — but that doesn’t mean that Porsha’s stance on her relationship is any less valid. Isn’t feminism about giving women choices? Let Porsha choose her own choices! Don’t tell her that she has to listen to “Independent Woman, Vol 1.” every day just because you do too!
The limo pulled up to the strip club, and Porsha said, “OK! Goodnight guys!” and went home to call Carvell and ask whether she’d ever get to meet his cousin Rainbow Sorbet. He said no. He’s way too gay.
The women immediately loved the strip club because it had the favorite thing of every Real Housewife in the entire universe: a step and repeat. Oh, they love this like fat kids like bacon, like soap stars love blue eyeshadow, like Kristen Stewart loves going out in public without running a brush through her hair and twisting up her scowl into a rictus of disinterested disdain. They took their pictures, and then they all found some strippers and made it rain all over them. OK, I do not understand making it rain. I get that it’s supposed to be some sort of show of support for the woman who is dancing as well as a display of the tipper’s wealth, but what kind of support are you giving this woman now that she has to get a dust pan and broom and mop up all of her tips. Can’t you just put them in her bra so it’s easier to cart around for the rest of her set? Isn’t making it rain sort of, in its own way, disrespectful?
Still, the Housewives loved the strippers, and commented on their skin and their waxing. Also, Pheadra got a lot of ideas for what kind of shoes she should be wearing to church. Kernya Mooah, who is insane, convinced herself that one of the strippers actually liked her. Oh, hahahahahahaha. LOL for days. ROFSCLMFOAAHSYAFMARM. That stands for Rolling on the Floor of a Strip Club Laughing My Fucking Ass Off At Her For Making A Rookie Mistake.
The best part of the strip club visit was when NeNe Leakes told us about how she met her husband Gregg at the strip club, and he saw her across the bar and didn’t believe she worked there until she got up on stage and she blew his mind. “Yes, Gregg, I do work here. And I’m amazing!” She said, swinging her titties just under his chin. Even after they were dating she still stripped because she needed the money. Unlike Porsha, NeNe doesn’t need a husband to complete her, she is complete on her own and nothing her husband can do will make her feel better about herself. It’s the opposite of Porsha, but that doesn’t mean NeNe is any better than her. OK, maybe a little.
Not much else happened in Vegas that needs to stay there. They all went backstage and put on some head dresses and acted like showgirls, and Nomi Malone came out of the wings and smacked NeNe so hard in the face that her Golddigger headdress crashed to the floor with a sound that was like Scrooge McDuck diving into his moneybin.
Oh, I totally forgot about the fight. I’m kind of tired of the Phaedra Vs. Kernya Moo-ah fight. Phaedra was pissed that Kernya stole her idea for a workout video. Kernya was mad about…well, I’m not sure what. She was looking for an apology, but I don’t see how anyone did anything wrong to her. She’s kind of been the snake in this Garden of Un-Even the whole year, and somehow she thinks people still need to be nice to her. It was so Kernya Moo-ah when, at Kandi’s panty and dildo party, she was supposed to ask an anonymous sex and relationship question but instead she asked a question about Phaedra so that she could lead her into a fight. Phaedra really prompted it with a mean joke about how Kernya can’t give head and that’s why Walter broke up with her, but it’s so Kernya to make everything about herself and whatever imagined psychodrama is currently going on in her head.
Cynthia then said the first intelligent thing ever uttered on a Real Housewives program, “You both feel like you were wronged, and this isn’t going anywhere, so you need to all get over it.” Thank you, Cynthia. Finally a voice of reason. But Kernya didn’t listen. She just fiddled with her hands in her lap, thinking that they all hated her. She thought that they were all wrong and awful, and it made her enraged — it made her so enraged that a sadness wracked her body and she was paralyzed. Her only options were to strike out at every last one of these women, or to bow her head in silence, as the water pooled in the bottom lid of her eye. She chose the latter, and stared down at her fidgeting hands. These women were safe from her wrath. Well, at least for now.
Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
[Photo Credit: Bravo]