Let’s just start this thing off right: Kernya Moo-ah, a Tasmanian devil wearing too much foundation, does not have cancer. Thank god. It would be so awful if I couldn’t make fun of her and talk about how crazy she is for a year. That is the statute of limitations on how long a person gets a free pass after they beat cancer. Do you know how many times I had to bite my tongue waiting for Giuliana Rancic to be cancer-free for a whole year? Like 7 jillion. I couldn’t do that with Kernya. No, I could not. Thank God she does not have cancer.
I can’t even make fun of her fear of needles or her cancer scare or her 12-year-old doctor, Dr. April Howser, MD. That would just be mean because cancer is awful and you should not make fun of it. As Kenya said, “I don’t want to have cancer.” Duh, Kernya. There is not one person alive who wants to have cancer. That is just not how this works. I bet if you actually want it you don’t get it, like when you’re trying to find a boyfriend really hard and you scare away all the interested candidates. It’s when you’re not paying attention and then suddenly it just comes along and WHACK! you have a boyfriend/cancer. But Kernya does not have it. She is cancer free. Yes, let the mocking begin again.
That said, Kernya wasn’t in any of the episode but the beginning and the end. NeNe was also absent. She only got that little 30 second between commercials bit and all she talked about was how her cell phone never works in LA and how Greg needs to kiss her tits more. That means it was a very, very, very boring episode of the <em>Real Flapper Dresses of the Auntie Marlene’s Costume Jamboree and Wig Parade</em>.
Kandi is recording a gospel album. Yawn. I love Kandi and she has a great voice, but I care about what kind of song she is recording just about as much as I care what kind of law any lawyer I ever meet practices. You always ask them to be polite at parties and stuff, “Oh, what kind of law do you do?!” but what you really mean is, “I don’t really care about real estate litigation, I’m just trying to be nice and involve you and no matter what you say, I’m going to respond, ‘Oh! That’s interesting’ and nod your head and hope that you steer the conversation back to a topic that everyone finds more interesting, like reality television programs.” So, yeah. I don’t care, Kandi, I really don’t.
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What else happened? Oh, Phaedra went over Kandi’s house and Kandi made Lipton Sweet Tea from a powder and we all groaned a little bit on the inside. They talked about Kernya dressing up like Phaedra at the NeNe Designed a Shoe Party (which is what I think might have given Kernya not-cancer) and Phaedra got in some good insults. She said that Kernya was wearing “Victoria Secret free coupon panties” which is the meanest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about someone else’s underpants. Then she said that Kernya had a “Home Depot Booty.” I know that was supposed to be a diss, but what does it mean, exactly? Is it flat as a board or the cold concrete floors in every single Home Depot? Is it a lesbian with a caulk gun? Is it sticking out of her pants like a construction worker with a too-heavy tool belt? Is it a bunch of Mexicans looking for work? What, pray tell, is a Home Depot booty? The mystery will have to die with Miss Phaedra Parks.
Who are we left with? Cynthia Bailey and Porsha Stewart. That’s it. Whoopdie-Doo. It’s like having lunch with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Stoopit. Seriously, Porsha is dumb. She’s not annoying awful dumb, but she’s at least “doesn’t know how to use the English language” dumb. She says “comportion” instead of “proportion.” She says that she is still “perturd” with Kernya instead of “perturbed” but I think that “perturd” is pretty apt, because throwing “turd” into a conversation about Kernya Moo-ah is never a bad thing.
Speaking of how stoopit Porsha is, she’s throwing a Harlem Renaissance party for her husband Carvell’s birthday, but no one seems to know what the Harlem Renaissance was. She initially calls it a Harlem Nights party, which is because her favorite movie is the Eddie Murphy and Della Reese bomb from the ’90s. That actually would have been fun. Then her party planner shows her this house out in the country where they can have the party and there are huge columns in front of it. Of course Carvell does not like columns, but the party planner says, “No, it’s the Renaissance so it needs a classical look.” What, does this lady think the Harlem Renaissance happened in Rome? Does she not know what Harlem looks like? Has she never seen a brownstone? This is what happens when you hire a white lady to do your Harlem Renaissance party.
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Anyway the party goes off without a hitch and all of Carvell’s biggest fans come. Cookie Puss shows up with a little bit of ice cream dripping off his nose in the Altanta heat. Fudgy the Whale rode in on a Flying Saucer and gulped down soft serve at the bar. It was a huge hit. A few of the Housewives came too. And so did Walter, Kernya’s ex. Apparently he tells everyone what they already figured out, that they had broken up and everyone seems more excited to see Walter than they would be to see Kernya, with or without a tumor. Carvell was also glad to see Cynthia’s husband Peter but not so much Cynthia. Yes, Cynthia and Porsha got in a fight and Carvell had to make sure they made up even though they had already made up.
OK, the fight, in the first place, was totally made up. If Kernya didn’t have to take a week off to have fake cancer then this fight would have never even made it on the air because she would have been up to her usual pathological shenanigans and we would have rather watched that. But Kernya “worked from home” for a week, which means she checked her email while watching The Price Is Right and Judge Judy, just like you do when you work from home. Because she was slacking off, we’re stuck watching this fight.
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Anyway, Porsha and Cynthia were supposed to meet at Porsha’s house to talk about Cynthia Bailey’s Retirement Home For Models Presents Miss Renaissance 2013: A Pageant, Inc. But then Carvell wasn’t going to be home so Porsha cancelled the meeting because she didn’t want Cynthia’s assistants coming to the house because they were strangers and it would make Carvell mad. I’m sorry, but that is just stupid. Who cares? Who really cares? So Porsha came all the way downtown to Cynthia Bailey’s School for Wayward Models and Homemade Pasta Emporium and they had a meeting there. Cynthia’s assistant GlassesBot 3000, Mr. Couture, and Proposition Joe were all mad that Porsha thought they were strangers so they were all shady to her when she arrived. Cynthia just sat there in her tiara and smiled.
When Carvell heard about all this, he was pissed. First of all, he did not want business happening in his house, because, well, you know how dusty business gets and the housekeeper had just come and you don’t want all that buisiness residue around your hot tub gumming up the jets. He also tells Porsha repeatedly that she needs to check Cynthia because Porsha has Cynthia’s back so she needs to have Porsha’s back. He asks Porsha his motto and she says, “Everyone is guilty until proven guilty.” While this was Porsha messing up another saying like business dust messes up your Jacuzzi, it is kind of true. Carvell seems to kind of already hate everyone and is waiting for them to prove him right. It’s as if every person he meets he’s just waiting for them to confirm that they are already guilty. Now, it’s supposed to be “guilty until proven innocent,” which is also a bad way to look at the world, but I think that the way Carvell sees humanity is even worse.
Cynthia and Porsha have an attrition lunch (and Cynthia was once again wearing her country club chic look that she has been favoring lately and I love it) and they make up, I don’t know why and I don’t care how but it’s over. Still Carvell has to sit Cynthia down and make up even though they made up already. We know that with the Real Housewives it is dangerous to go over what happened in a fight because it is likely to erupt again, but that doesn’t happen here, thank god. No, Cynthia and Porsha just sit there in their gowns as their husbands smoke cigars and eat a piece of the humidor-shaped cake (what does that have to do with Harlem?) and the women lock eyes for a minute. It’s in that glimpse that they know, they both know, that they are speaking to one another. “I am really in charge,” Porsha’s eyes say to Cynthia. “I know. I am really in charge too,” Cynthia’s eyes say to Porshe and they they smile and turn back to their men, alpha’s both, and wait for them to tell them when it is time to leave.
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