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‘Real Housewives of New York’ Recap: Houseguest from Hell

ALTWho watched the Olympics last night? I did! And then I had to stay up late to watch the Real Snoozecatchers of Pantomime Bluff and it just didn’t live up to the glory of Missy Franklin taking the gold, the defeat of the men’s gymnastics team shitting the pommel horse, or the impossibly skimpy Speedo on Tom Daley. Sure, the Housewives have golden hair, horse-like cackles, and equally skimpy bathing suits, but they just aren’t the same. I’m sorry, they’re not. Especially this current New York Olympiad which is winning a medal in snooze.

But they do have a sport of their own, and it is face yoga. It was taught by its inventor and only practitioner, Carole Radziwill’s friend, the jewelry designer Rajana Khan. Look at her face, with its silly puddy skin stretched over it. Watch her move her tongue around the inside of her cheek. Watch her suck in her cheeks and tilt her head to the moon letting out a low grumble like a mating toad. Watch her work her wonders on the Housewives. Then watch Rajana go into her bedroom and laugh and laugh and laugh. This is like her game of Polish Arm Wrestling, where you have your opponent make a fist and try to get them to pull it out of your hand but while they’re pulling, you let go and they end up punching themselves in the face. That is what Rajana — who, for her age, really does look absolutely amazing — does to the Houseyogis. She preys on their vanity and jealousy to make them want to look as good as her, but then she punks them and tells them to make all these awful faces for the camera. No, it’s not a sport, it’s a practical joke that one really rich Indian lady played on all of these harridans. Rajana wins the gold in awesome.

Also at the pool was Ramona. Oh God, once again we have to talk about how awful Ramona is. I am getting so tired of this. It’s sort of like seeing Michael Phelps lose over and over again. Oh wait, I never get tired of that. Take that, you cocky son of a bitch! Maybe Ramona should train Michael Phelps. “Now swim. No, faster. You’re doing it all wrong. Like this. Get out of the water. You’re not listening to me!” That is what it would sound like. Ramona thinks she is an expert in everything. The first time she found out about ¡Que Viva!’s fake leg, she was completely astounded and behaved like an 8-year-old who just discovered chocolate — befuddled but very excited. Now, suddenly, she’s like an expert in prosthesis. She tells ¡Que Viva! that she has to get out of the pool because she’s getting her leg wet, and ¡Que Viva! is all, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” But Ramona insists over and over and over again until she gets out of the pool, embarrassing everyone, including herself. Don’t tell a woman what to do with her own body, Ramona. Have you never seen a Pro-Choice rally?

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Then, when everyone is back at ¡Que Viva!’s cloud palace, Ramona and Sonja are carrying on in the bathroom like a pair of teenagers who just got DMed by Justin Bieber (if you did not understand that last sentence, you are old and/or sane) and ¡Que Viva! wants to come in and join the fun. “Sorry,” Ramona says. “This is only for Sonja and me. You’re not allowed.” That’s right, Ramona just barred ¡Que Viva! from a room in her own house. Does she not know who the star of this Mexican soap opera is? Obviously not, because then, at dinner, Ramona goes into the kitchen and changes the menu around and starts ordering around the staff. I’m sorry, this isn’t just messed up Housewives behavior, this is just messed up behavior in general. These are all real, awful things for a person to do to another person. It’s not even fun to watch her behave badly, it’s just tedious. It’s like “I know you guys are all paid to hang out with her, but seriously, you need to stop. Quit the show. There is more to life than a bug-eyed jester caterwauling at you and trying to tell you how to live your life. No, I’m not talking about Dr. Phil, Sonja. I mean Ramona. There is more to life than Ramona.”

The best part is ¡Que Viva! finally walks up to Sonja and is like, “Ramona is awful. How do you do it? What do you do when she gets all overbearing and screechy?” Sonja just sort of laughs and puts her hand on ¡Que Viva!’s shoulder and walks away shaking her head and holding her open hand up to her nose with the knuckle-side up. “Oh, that’s funny,” she chuckles. There is nothing you can do to stop Ramona. She’s like a roller coaster, soaring and jangling and making you vaguely sick to your stomach, and you can’t stop her. She is going to happen and she only has one track. You can’t change the direction of the car, it just goes in the same way every damn time. This is going to happen and everyone is going to pretend like it’s fun and awesome, but, in the morning, you’ll wake up with your joints all achy and your back needs an alignment. The only thing you can do to feel right is to not get on the coaster.


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