Next we join Porsha as she lawyers up. Porsha tells us that she’s a single woman, completely on her own, ready to make her own way. The lawyer explains to her what a deposition is going to be like and Porsha fires the first salvo: warning us that Cordell won’t want to have her tell the public all the dirty shit that she’s got on him. I always found Cordell Stewart to be a super creepy, medieval control freak, so I’m like: bitch: bring IT! The people want to KNOW! Porsha tells her lawyer, through tears, that she’s going to deliver a list to Cordell of what she needs him to do in order to reconcile, if he blows her off then that’s it: D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Pssst: Porsha…we all know that you’re a kind of annoying, none-too-bright woman-child, but hell, girl, even YOU can do better than creepy-ass Cordell. Just think: you’ll be able to go to a restaurant and order your own wine if you want to and not have to drink a glass of soda instead. Let it go.
Next we join Cynthia as she does a kumbaya circle with her loyal “Bailey Boys” (e.g., her staff) as they sadly close up the Bailey Agency storefront. Why, you ask, are they closing? Well, because Cynthia’s SUPER fucking pain-in-the-ass-control-freak-runs-every-business-directly-into-the-ground-and-loses-all of-her-fucking-money old ass husband, Uncle Ben, (a.k.a., Peter), has unilaterally decided that he’s moving HER business storefront into some lame warehouse that HE bought directly across the street from HIS business, Bar One. As you may recall, Bar One is (according to some of the RHOA ladies) directly in one of Atlanta’s demilitarized zones. But, hey! If Uncle Ben thinks it’s a good business move then who is ANYONE to question his unquestionable business savvy. I give this crap-ass decision about six weeks before they’re directly in bankruptcy. Fucking moron. So anyway, Cynthia and her crew are lamenting having to vacate their cozy little corner of the world when in walks crazy-ass Uncle Ben who immediately begins to (a little too gleefully if ask me) rip up the flooring and announce that as their new landlord he’s gonna be “all up in their asses”. Oh, great. Meanwhile, in her talking head, Cynthia whines that she would have thought that, since he’s committing money that comes from both of them, that Uncle Ben might have consulted her BEFORE he made the decision and signed the contract. Yeah, Cynthia, ‘ya fucking pea brain, like he’s EVER consulted with you on how to spend YOUR money. Wake up, sister; you’re married to a MORON, you’re perfect for each other. Then, out of the blue, in walks Kenya Moore to everyone’s (feigned) surprise. Cynthia tells us that she hasn’t seen Kenya in several months and didn’t even know she was in the country. Uh, OK. So anyhoo, Cynthia tells Kenya that they’re moving across the street from Bar One and she’s going to be having an opening party and ALL the girls will be there. There’s some trifling bullshit convo about Kenya getting evicted – UNFAIRLY – of course and before you know it Kenya is bitching AGAIN about, who else? Her old “boyfriend” Walter and how pissed off she is that Nene invited Walter to her wedding. OK, we all know this but I have to say it: Kenya is pure, batshit crazy. Crazy.
Now we head over to Phaedra and Apollo who have moved to a new house in, as Phaedra tells us, “the Buckhead area, which is like Atlanta’s 90210”. Uh, Phaedra, coupla things here, one: nobody gives a rat’s ass what fucking neighborhood you moved to, and, seriously, 90210? Bitch, 1990 called, it wants its old-ass pop culture reference back. I seriously can’t stand Phaedra and let me just say right now, that not even pregnancy has improved her boobs but she’s still trying, in every scene, to convince us that she has some. Hell, I guess any old B-cup can squeeze out some pitiful cleavage with the right amount of duct tape. Anyway, she’s just had another kid and she’s dubbed him “Mr. President”. I won’t even dignify this with a comment. His name is Dylan, OK? Dylan. Phaedra comes strolling outside, babe in arms, to check up on Apollo and his management of the ongoing renovations. Apollo, wife-beater and various tats on display, worriedly asks her if she and the baby should be outside. Um, why? Because there’s air out here, Apollo? Because there’s light? WTF? Apollo joined the cast and the show’s collective IQ went down 50 points and there has never been much to spare in that department on RHOA. Hell, on any of the Real Housewives shows, truth be told. Phaedra spends some time whining about this and that and bitching to us about how Apollo’s continuous yawning is starting to really piss her off. She’s the one who just had the baby, for fuck’s sake. What’s HE doing yawning? “I’m the one that’s workin’ like a Hebrew slave.” Yes, yes, she did actually say those words. Low class hoe bag. On these interior shots I couldn’t help but be delighted to see that Phaedra and Apollo’s house could sub-in for an episode of “Hoarders”. Southern belle? Not so much, Phaed…not so much.
Kandi and her finance Todd are up next. She’s making him some breakfast and he’s whacking her ass (playfully of course) and well, they just seem to be genuinely happy. The rest of this scene is a whole bunch of expository, clunky dialogue, a Bravo specialty. Todd goes awkwardly on and on about his “production work” here there and everywhere. Atlanta, Boston, wherever he can get a gig. All this talk about Todd’s work ethic is the lead-in to what will clearly shape up to be the central conflict in the Kandi storyline this season: Kandi’s Mama DO NOT like Todd. She’s been trash talking him to anyone that’ll listen, about how he’s a free loader and a gold digger and only after her daughter’s money. Kandi offers that she’s pretty bummed that her Mama, to whom she’s very close, doesn’t see Todd in the same light as she does. Blah, blah, blah…family’s important…needs to get to know you…you should talk to your Mom about how important this is you…Yeah, it got pretty boring pretty fast. But Todd got a good lookin’ breakfast, ya’ll. Oh, and Kandi is writing a song for Jennifer Hudson…and she wrote “No Scrubs”. Hellerrrr….
Back to Nene, who is on her way to meet Porsha for lunch. Nene tells us that she has decided to “take Porsha under her wing, be a big sister to her” through this difficult, divorce-y time. At lunch the two women gush over each other for an interminable period of time, their outfits, their hair, their fucking manicures. Nene tells Porsha that she’s “gonna be all right” and that in fact Porsha appeared to be having a pretty good time on her own at Nene’s wedding. Porsha takes this opportunity to start the gush-fest all over again, this time focusing on Nene’s historically spectacular wedding which was “off the chain”. Another drama thread gets set up at this luncheon as we watch the newly joined Terrific Twosome of Nene and Porsha rip Kenya a new asshole for blowing off Nene’s wedding without even an RSVP! Porsha starts in on her wedding being between her, Cordell and the Lord. Oh, brother. This pseudo religious crap is really annoying and frankly my Nene is the only one out of this crowd that doesn’t indulge in that silly posturing. Nene tells us that Cordell acted like a queen that his crazy bitch behavior was a “queen move”. And so begins the party line this season that Cordell Stewart is gay, baby! This should be interesting. Kinda.
Cut to probably one of the most ridiculous scenes ever shot in ANY Real Housewives franchise. Porsha, her Mother (I think), and half-sister are sitting on a couch talking about the fact that post-deposition, Cordell pretty much told Porsha “hell no” on her list of conditions to reconcile. Babe, Cordell Stewart wants you GONE. It takes a few minutes, and a “in happier days” look back montage, but Porsha and her Mother manage to squeeze out some tears. OK, I’ll cop to Porsha’s looking pretty genuine, I mean, she IS getting divorced, after all. The Mother made crying sounds, certainly, and she scrunched up her face in a cry-ish expression, but I won’t swear that she was able to manufacture actual, real tears. The half-sister didn’t even try. In fact a couple of times I’d swear she looked like she was mightily trying not to laugh! Again, Porsha makes the pitch that Cordell isn’t shopping in the straight department by referring to herself and telling us that “Cordell didn’t want this sexually. I don’t know what he wanted.”
In the EPs final sequence, everybody turns out for Cynthia’s grand opening party for the new and improved Bailey Modeling Agency in its thug-central new locale. The theme, ironically, is white; as in everyone has to wear white to this party. One by one all the ladies and their mens show up and hug and screech inarticulate greetings and air kiss each other but we know what we’re all waiting for and she finally arrives. Escorted by Miss Lawrence here comes Kenya, sporting a tied-below-the-bust handkerchief that doesn’t quite cover the wire in her underwire bra (just sayin’) and a skirt. So she’s showing some midriff skin which, considering she shills exercise videos looks pretty slammin’. Her talking head tells us that she’s entering the party sporting for a fight, expecting some bitch to come at her and she’s ready. “Bring it.” Oh, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya. Nene tells us that her plan for the night is to totally ignore Kenya. Precious. Nene barges in on Uncle Ben and insists that he take her and Grigg on a tour of the whole place. Right now. Uncle Ben obliges with an oddly bizarre leer at Nene. Uh, Uncle Ben? She’s married now. You’re married, too and what the fuck is sexual about “we want a tour of the place”? I’m thinking that maybe old-ass Uncle Ben might be in the early stages of Alzheimers. Phaedra’s magical gay Derrick saw Kenya heading over in the direction of Phaedra and decided to head off a scene by dragging Phaedra waaaayyy across the room. Phaedra’s talking head actually cracked me up in spite of my burning hatred for her. “Thank God for Derrick in his hot pants and heels. He whisked me right away from that beauty queen on bath salts.”
So finally we get to the piece-de-resistance for this evening’s festivities: the Nene and Kenya face off. Kenya volleys first with her bitching and moaning about how she’s been “tortured for the last two months and whenever I go through something nobody reaches out to see how I’m doing.” Nene responds with “Well, you know I was planning a wedding for 425 people and you didn’t reach out to me. So I’m going through things just like you’re going through things.” Then we get into the whole, yeah but you’re going through happy things and I was being evicted so it’s not the same oh yes it is planning a wedding is very stressful yeah but its good stress not bad stress like I was going through and on and on. Until finally we cut to the chase and Kenya gets to her point: did you invite Walter to your wedding? Again with the Walter obsession? Kenya, honey, you know they make lots of good meds for that. At that point Nene tells us that she didn’t want to get into a fight and that she wanted to remain a lady. Cut back to the party and this happened: Nene: “I’m leaving now Kenya.” Kenya: “Oh no you’re not.” Nene: “Kenya I gotta pee; you want me to pee in your glass?” Now that’s some ladylike shit, Nene Leakes-style and The ABIB’s gotta respect! Oh, BTW, Nene totes lied: she got into a big-ass, Nene-talking-louder-than-anyone-else fight with Kenya and she was all: "I'll invite anyone I want to MY EVENT! And when I have AN EVENT I ain't gonna be worrying about if Kenya Moore is uncomfortable with the guest list!" It occurred to me at that point that in the whole time that RHOA has been on the only person who could go toe-to-toe with loud mouth Nene and not back down was Kim Zolciak. Those two were a matched pair; none of these other relative shrinking violets have a chance with Neens. Just as a reminder: "Kim ain't nothin' but a low-down, dirty monkey wit a wig on." and "Nene, that big moose."
So there you have it, RHOA fans! The bad-ass ladies of ATL be back, honey and “The New Normal” or no “The New Normal”, Nene Leakes is STILL kicking it as the Queen Bee of all she sees. Stayed tuned next week for another recap from The ABIB!
