On last night’s Vanderpump Rules, we learned that Stassi Schroeder‘s problems with men run deep. Like down in the beautiful, briny sea deep. She’s also being strangled in turtleneck-form by her own ill-advised hubris.
Now, I must do a disclaimer with this recap: Do not expect my usual greatness of prose mixed with pearls of wisdom, as I have the worst cold I have ever had in my human existence. And I feel like garbage. Like what Tequila Katie (minus Tom 2) may smear on Scheana Marie‘s overly-contoured face.
Can we talk about Scheana? Ho-ly does that girl need a ‘stink face’ removal procedure. Didn’t anyone warn her that her face will freeze that way if she makes a poop face immediately after getting Botox? I mean, I get it – she has a hard-earned summer body to protect, but lighten up and eat a lil’ clam. I hear Kristen Doute loves them.
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Despite not really knowing if Montauk is a place or some kind of app, or if navy blue really only happens in conjunction with stripes, or what exactly a WASP is in the socioeconomic lexicon of America, Kristen is in Montauk trying not to talk about how she doesn’t understand that people have, like, jobs and stuff that they, like, go to, and that vacations are not a lifestyle. Unless you semi-work on a reality show after being forcibly retired from your waitress job, that is. Hard times befall us all, and for some, those hard times are paying for their luxuries with a real job.
No one has harder times than Stassi and Katie, who cannot pry open a ‘hair of the dog’ beer with a lighter, or figure out why Stassi is repulsive to men. Katie postulates – shockingly astutely – that it’s because Stassi’s priorities in life are herself and dead people, preferably dead people she may have killed, while she radiates fake life via a weekly spray tan. This is just… such an oxymoron.
Back on the west coast, RV living is not much easier. Jax Taylor‘s balls are on full display through the constantly opened door of the shower without water (reminds me of hostel showers in Europe where you had to stand on a toilet to adjust the overhead nozzle and make sure the TP was outside the door or it would get soaked and clog the drain in the center of floor).
Tom 1 and Tom 2 are playing their favorite game of See Jax Flash. See Jax’s Pee Pee as it pokes through the door. See Jax’s pee-pee as we wrestle him to the floor as they keep yanking open the shower to throw stuff at him. However, Jax’s favorite game consists of telling Brittany Cartwright how she’s a failure at life. Finally, the reason Jax and Brittany are together: she puts up with him and makes him feel better about his pathetic self after years of being with Stassi. Apparently, Jax has un-maiming of the shrew PTSD. He shouldn’t take his bad karma out on Brittany, though. Because, for as much as Jax deserved both Stassi and Kristen, Brittany does not deserve Jax. Instead, she is a sweet girl who needs a crash course on feminism.
Given that Kentucky is a different country all together than L.A. – one repressed, stuck in a different era, and cut-off from many modern amenities – Brittany is practically a mail order bride Jax yanked from Hooters. All Brittany knows is the little myopic world of sunny Cali he’s provided her. A world Jax believes she should thank him for endlessly – in the form of turkey sandwiches. Dude. TURKEY IS NOT A LUXURY ITEM.
Jax is seriously obsessed with sandwiches. Turkey sandwiches to be exact, and he seems to think Brittany’s only role in life is to provide them, endlessly, like she’s Rosie from the Jetsons, or a puppet he built from the boobs up for his companionship. Every time he tells a lie, Brittany’s boobs increase in cup size. Except, Brittany wants to be a real, live girl, who has a brain and a heart, and maybe some ham. Newsflash Jax: Brittany can return the boobs – just get the implants taken out and get the ones she wants put in. Now that she’s working at SUR, she’ll be able to buy her own damn boobs, which you can’t volunteer to flash on her behalf because you “paid for them.” Worse, he presumes that because he pays more of their bills, he ‘owns’ Brittany.
Jax’s treatment of Brittany is so embarrassing that Tom 1 and Tom 2 wind up giving him relationship advice about appreciating Brittany as a woman and learning to compromise. When Tom 1 is an enlightened feminist…
Jax doesn’t take their advice, although a little seed is planted in Brittany‘s mind. Jax blames the L.A. influence of all these fast and fresh girls he’s exposed Brittany to for her repeated failure of sandwich preparation, and sure enough, Ariana Madix educates Brittany on what a “misogynist” is. Hint: It is found in Montauk but it doesn’t give massages!
When they get back to L.A., $10 says Jax is gonna trap Brittany in the kitchen for a little YouTube crash course on how to please your man one sandwich at a time. Meanwhile, he’ll poop with the door open while hollering for a beer and a comic book. I’m starting a Free Brittany campaign – who’s with me?!
RELATED – Jax Loves Sandwiches For Life!
In L.A., Lisa Vanderpump finally locates Lala Kent underneath the rubble of rumors surrounding her. Lala cries that everyone is so mean and that’s why she tells lies. She insists again that she’s not dating a married man – in fact she’s never even heard of him. Lala hints that Lisa is allowing the rumors about her to perpetuate, thus making her workplace hostile. Lala tries to quit SUR because of this. And what Lala wants to do, Lala does – including narrate Lala’s behaviors in third person. Is that like Lala admitting she has multiple personalities: One Night In Lala Land – LaLa vs. Little Girl Lost and Needing Love Lala?
Adept at subtle manipulation as she is, Lisa convinces Lala not to leave, and deftly deflects herself from any culpability in the notion that Lala is being bullied in the workplace. Lisa is not being fair – she can’t just say, ‘Oh Lala gives as good as she gets’ or ‘Lala likes to be provocative, then run.’ Lisa needs to emphatically put a stop to Katie and Scheana leading a smear-campaign. And when Lala comes to her with complaints that Jax is calling her a whore in front of a full restaurant, Lisa needs to take action. That is a hostile work environment. Who Lala is dating – married man or not – is NONE of their business. She is their co-worker. Furthermore, Jax and Scheana have a closet full of skeletons.
Back in Montauk, Stassi announces that Lauren and Ashley Wirkus (of Summer House) have invited them all to a clambake/Stassi’s birthday celebration. Stassi and friends don’t know what a clambake is – Kristen thinks it’s a pig roast, Katie thinks it’s a lesbian orgy, and Stassi just hopes it’s as fabulous as she wants herself to be.
Scheana doesn’t eat anything with claws (so she doesn’t eat chicken?), as she explains while clacking her 4″ claw-nails. Stassi eats plenty of things with claws, starting with Scheana, who she vows to eat alive, then spit out her nails if she doesn’t behave in front of Stassi’s new classy friends. The clambake consists of a fully-catered lobster bake (no clams?), served with plastic forks and bibs, washed down with a magnum of rosé, which is apparently the thing everyone must now drink and talk abut drinking ad nauseam. I thought rosé had its moment years ago? Either it’s back, or I’m wrong and it hadn’t peaked before, but I don’t like wine (I know, I know…).
Scheana doesn’t drink wine, but she certainly whines that she doesn’t eat “food like this” (meaning lobster), proving that she needs an etiquette course as badly as Brittany needs a women’s studies one. Down the table, Stassi is marinating in the juices of her own preserved fabulosity and declares Montauk her spirit place. Because, stripes, fanciness, and people she thinks are of her stripe… (aka wannabe classy and fabulous).
When they turn up at the Summer House mansion for a midnight pool party, Stassi makes a gaffe on par with Tom 1 asking a NASCAR driver to sign his flatiron (true story): she wears a white turtleneck one-piece. In an attempt to entice men and be fashionable. OK, it was unflattering as hell. It was like a Dickie in swimsuit form. Or worse, the top half of a swimsuit from a polygamous compound?
RELATED – Eternally Single Stassi?
Eventually, Stassi finds herself in the hot tub with Kyle, who drank about half the magnum of rosé on his own and can’t tell his own white prepster chinos from Stassi’s own white-turtlenecked-ass. Stassi (or “Sauci” as he keeps calling her) believes Kyle has the hots for her, until he forgets her name and compares her to Steve Jobs in a bathing suit courtesy of the turtleneck. Stassi tries lecturing Kyle about how not to pick up girls, but the only thing Kyle picks up on is that Stassi’s nipples are visible through her swimsuit. Meanwhile, Tequila Katie terrorizes the kitchen and Scheana by twisting the carrot stick up Scheana’s butt after swirling it in whipped cream.
How happy is Katie away from Tom 2? How happy is Tom 2 away from Katie? How happy are the crew at NASCAR, in their free-wheeling poop-clogged RV, with Ariana and Tom 1 doing fake ‘Ricky Bobby’ porn on the Ferris Wheel, and Tom 2 declaring that he has found his inner man-child? How happy is this birthday bunch compared to the oppressive Stassi Schroeder Regime dominating Montauk, where no one is allowed to talk or breathe, or eat or wear bathing suit attire without her directives. Except for Kyle. Kyle does what Kyle wants. And what Kyle wants is to finger gun the air while axing Stassi from one-night stand status by declaring her Steve Jobs of the pool. Stassi is fascinated with ghosts, so perhaps he meant well?
After sobbing in the hot tub, where her tears for fears of eternal singledom mix with the over-chlorinated water, Stassi reappears in the kitchen to find Kyle complaining about her swimsuit – again. Why do I feel like Tequila Katie and Kyle are soulmates and she just needs to hide out in Montauk and make it work with Kyle one drunken embarrassment at a time?
Instead, Stassi gathers her gaggle of oppressed females and hauls them out of Summer House, back to the yacht club where her influence reigns supreme. There, if Stassi says a turtleneck swimsuit is hot, it is. Right? NOT! Who wants a wet piece of nylon choking you in pool? Plus, that maillot was so tight it probably also gave her camel toe. Or in Montauk-speak, clam-eltoe.
And that’s all, folks. I’ll be here all day (cause I’m also recapping Summer House).
TELL US – TURTLENECK SWIMSUIT: HOT OR NOT? MORE OPPRESSIVE DICTATOR: JAX OR STASSI? BETTER BIRTHDAY: ARIANA OR STASSI?
[Photo Credits: Bravo]
