I've discovered the best way of watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Without giving away too many of my trade secrets, it involves a fishbowl, several bottles of red wine, no pants, and a prodigious appreciation for the cultural morass that is reality television. From the windows, to the walls: Let the recapping begin, young ones.
If the state of modern dramatic television has taught us nothing else in terms of psychological indicators, it is that decorating with antlers probably means you are a serial killer. With that in mind I present for your consideration, Porsha Stewart and her new deer-head. Could divorce have driven her to murder most foul? Probably not. BUT STILL. When Nene Leakes came to visit her I nearly kicked over wine bottle number eighty-four while yelling, "RUN HOOKER!"
If Porsha's got murder on the mind, she's keeping it well hidden. Though not one throat was slit on screen, she did paint a pretty picture, curled up in her medieval chair as she discussed pleasuring herself as she swilled champagne from a giant dollar-store water tumbler. Porsha, if you're reading this: Currently you are my favorite.
Though admittedly that's because I want to send the rest of the cast to their rooms to think about their poor behavior. Crayons go in the coloring book, Phaedre Parks -- and put away that "twerking nipple!" Cynthia Bailey -- good, kind, decent, Cynthia -- started trouble! In a continuing bid to avoid facing her own crumbling marriage, she dredged up details about Kandi Burruss' boo Todd. Dude, let's cut Todd a break. His worst crime to date? Speaking realistically about Kandi's lame-duck idea of putting on a major musical. You know. On a whim. His second worst crime? Using the word "pre-reception". That is not a thing that happens Todd. That's just drinking before you see a play. Me and my fishbowl know from what we speak.
None of this would have come to a head had it not been for the machinations of Kenya Moore. When it comes to Kenya, I'm going to quote Detox, drag queen of my heart -- I'VE HAD IT!
Between her piss-poor hostess skills, my latent fears that she will one day eat her dog in a fit of hysteria, her continued attempts to destroy the relationships every cast member has with anyone other than herself, her CLEARLY MADE UP AFRICAN PRINCE BOYFRIEND and her decision to procreate, she has worn out her welcome. See yourself out, girl. I am not fooled by your antics.
Kenya went after everyone she could this week. It wasn't funny. It wasn't cute. It was tired. Picturing her "meeting" her boyfriend almost makes me feel sorry for her. There's Kenya, alone in front of the computer, the room dark but for its eerie glow. "0 Unread Messages". Thanks for that Earthlink, she thinks, fighting back tears. But then -- wait! "1 Unread Message From: Jupiter Xenillio" She opens it with baited breath "Miss Kenya -- This Nigeria Prince needs your help." As she transfers the $50K via Western Union, Kenya feels the weight easing from her shoulders. Her life is about to change. Everything is going to change forever.
Soon, she will be a princess. She looks down at her little dog. "You go uneaten another day, ma petite chou." Twirling in her chair, she laughs. In the distance, a coyote howls.
Do you think Kenya's man is real?
Image via BravoTV