Put your phone on silent: Rich Kids of Beverly Hills is starting, let the arbitrarily selected and non-stop iPhone sounds begin. This week, rubbing salt into the wound of our collective poverty, Blonde-Morgan Stewart's boyfriend Brendan Fitzpatrick decided to whisk her away to Mexico via G4 jet to celebrate their one-year anniversary. One time on the subway, a guy let me sit down because he thought I was pregnant, so basically this show is telling me my life.
You'd think Morgan would be over the moon that she's got a boo who loves to spoil her rotten. But as she has already been spoiled rotten, she begs Brendan to let her bring all of their friends along to "celebrate their love." Celebrate my middle finger, which I am giving you as I set my television on fire. In the immortal words of all vocal-fry utilizing, blow-out obsessed, 20-something ass-hats, "I can't even." Brendan, apparently, can. He magnanimously agrees to let everyone come, which is a huge mistake.
The vacation is a hot mess, mainly because they are all a bunch of privileged turd-burglars (read: those who burgle turds) with poor manners. Brendan puts up with their volume, and their drinking, but when the gang (including Blonde-Morgan's so-called bestie Dorothy Wang whose Spanish was embarrassing) shows up an hour late and then won't stop texting at the table, he has all the phones present confiscated.
You know what I would do if someone confiscated my phone after flying me to Mexico and buying me my weight in champagne? Service them sexually. That did not happen here. Instead everyone was all "HASHTAG FROWNIE FACE BRENDAN." Ruh-diculous. They owe him a major apology, presented with a new Givenchy jock-strap in the manner most acceptable to the tribe of the wealthy and outraged.
Did you think Brendan was out of line?
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