OMG I’ve got nothing today. It’s been grey and raining for, I don’t know, 467 consecutive days, my back hurts because I messed up my achilles from going on too many WALKS because there’s nothing else to DO so now I have to just sit around all day while it HEALS because I’m apparently NINETY-SEVEN, the state of Illinois STILL hasn’t gotten unemployment up and running, I hate all my groceries, and to add serious insult to grievous injury I now want dick like I want air solely because I can’t have any, despite having had no interest in sex for like two years on account of men not being shit! It’s like oh okay NOW I have a libido? NOW I have a poignant and palpable evolutionary imperative to channel my life force? Oh nice, very cool!
And I suppose I could abide all of this if there was actually anything TO DO, but there’s not! The other day I was talking to my elderly aunt and she was like, “I never leave the house anyway but it’d be nice to just wander down a grocery store aisle and touch a goddamn can of beans, my God” and I have never identified with anything more. I would settle for doing absolutely ANYTHING right now. I mean, do I have a list of things I could be doing that’s literally years long because until recently I never had a single spare moment to myself? Of course! But do I WANT to do any of those things! No! They’re boring and self-edifying!
I don’t care about that shit, I want to go to the coffee shop and drink a $9 oat milk latte while exchanging dick pics with French men on Scruff and studiously avoiding that one old lady who likes to talk my ear off about her edema. I don’t want useful shit! I’m supposed to better myself? During quarantine? What am I the Dalai Lama? I didn’t get to be a 41-year-old man with no career and a net worth of negative $43,000 by actually doing things! That shit’s for normal well-adjusted adults with an appropriate sense of self-worth and no history of trauma, fuck outta here!
Luckily, though, I have rage to distract me from this pain because for fuck’s sake THIS IS THE FOURTH EPISODE OF THIS NEW SEASON OF REAL HOUSEWIVES OF NEW YORK (you can catch the recaps for eps 1-3 here) AND WE ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT LUANN STAYING IN RAMONA’S HAMPTONS BASEMENT I HAVE NEVER MORE FERVENTLY CRAVED THE COLD SILENCE OF THE GRAVE.
(How was that seamless segue from bitching about my life to bitching about Luann? I don’t know how I do this shit, I think it’s like a gift from God or something.)
Anyway we open with Luann pouring her heart out over speakerphone about how deeply hurt she is by the basement thing, and she’s so upset her voice sounds tear-choked. (Makes you wonder how she'd hold up if she ever had an ACTUAL problem—aside from the type that arises from threatening to kill one of the hardened, grizzled cops on the Boca Raton beat, that is.) Ramona grovels--literally grovels--for forgiveness and finally convinces Luann to come get even by beating her at tennis. And to that end, we meet Ramona’s Italian tennis instructor, Adriano. And honestly... it must be slim pickins menwise out in Southampton because...
Really? This is… as hot as it gets out there on the East End? I mean, listen, I look like someone’s lesbian aunt and I attract actual goblins for suitors so far be it from me to criticize—and I wouldn't exactly kick Adriano here out of bed for eating tennis balls or whatever.
But I mean, IDK man, there's a dude works at my now-shuttered Starbucks who's hotter and he's just this doofus named Tom with a hipster beard and aviator glasses who always tells me he wants to grow out his hair to look like my “flow” and I have no idea what that means on account of I am 763 years old, but I'm pretty sure it means he's in love with me. Tragically I'll probably never see him again because the world has ended and also because he is straight and married and likes sports, but my point is the force with which Ramona is throwing herself at Adriano is not commensurate with the quality of his face. Get Rafael Nadal’s fine ass out here or something, I’m paying real money for the good Hulu to watch this shit live!
Anyway Luann arrives and now it's HER turn to throw herself at Adriano, to whom she introduces herself as "Luahn," with the faintest hint of European vowels because she's a fucking asshole. And I probably shouldn't judge because every time I go to France I end up introducing myself to someone as "Jshzah,” but EYE share a name with kings and apostles, and LUANN shares a name with Waffle House waitresses who've been smoking a pack a day since the third grade. We are not the same.
But Luann more than gets her comeuppance when she tries to woo Adriano. She starts by asking him “Do you have a family?” because she’s apparently someone’s grandma engaging a new dinner guest. I mean Jesus, nothing gets the ol’ dick blood pumping like “Do you have a family?” You vixen, Luann! During foreplay she’s probably like, “You know they didn’t even have to give me an episiotomy during labor because I’m so *winks, purrs* flehhhxxxibllle.” I’m not even sure that joke makes sense but the point is, there are IKEA instruction manuals with sexier copy and this is embarrassing.
Anyway, turns out Adriano does NOT have a family.
Because, he says, it’s really hard to meet women in Manhattan who are looking for something real—but you never know when someone might come along! And Luann takes her shot.
And Adriano shoots her down with the speed and accuracy of a pair of laser guns.
Pew-pew!!!
The savagery. The absolutely murderous savagery!
Next we move onto the barbecue Ramona has planned for lunch, during which she barks orders at her guests as if they’re kitchen staff, especially Leah, who she scolds for not setting the table correctly with "forks and knifes.” Not knives. “Knifes.” What a blessing. Anyway, Leah lets it roll off her back and gets the last laugh with a simple quip about which these women will go 43 rounds at the reunion.
Anyway now that lunch is over it’s time for Luann to throw herself at the second ain’t-shit house caller of the day, Sonja's dog groomer. Luann must actually be a gay man because she operates on the same rules as us homos: if it has muscles, it's automatically hot, regardless of what that face looks like.
I mean forgive me for this because it’s not nice to mock people’s appearances but we do this to women all the time so I think it’s high time we share the wealth with the men: Sorry, but this dude’s a butterface.
That body don't quit but that face never started, uhkeh?
And while I would like to rub my face in them delicious mantiddies—and maybe even tiddie-fuck ‘em! (OH MY GOD MY SUBSTACK HAS BEEN HACKED DON’T READ THIS)—Hamptons Thor and his deep-v ain't shit. My own face, bloated by Cheez-Its and congenitally devoid of a perceivable jawline, is way hotter! Don’t piss on my foot and tell me it’s raining, Andy Cohen!
But Luann never met a man she didn't like and lucky for her, this guy has the whole "lemme do whatever these rich bitches want cuz MONEY" thing down and gives her a massage on the patio.
Anyway, the dogs properly groomed and Luann properly palpated, we FINALLY get to the evening portion of our day when the wheels come spectacularly off. The girls have decided to skip the party they were going to attend and have a Girls Night at home… except for this one random dude who thinks he’s Rod Stewart whom Ramona invited for some reason.
Tinsley tricks the usually tee-totaling Leah by spiking her cranberry juice and we are off to the races.
Finally! Tinsley makes herself useful on this show! Only took four seasons! She brings her blue-blood sorority girl background to bear by making these old broads play beer pong--or champagne pong, as it were--and gets to work getting everyone fucking shitcanned.
I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I EVER SAID ABOUT TINSLEY BEING USELESS AND BORING. These women haven’t even had dinner yet and already we're at this sort of place:
Then they start bullying Jeff, with Sonja yelling, “I thought we sent you home!” while pointing at him with a dildo.
And then Sonja and Tinsley are rolling around on the floor with said dildo while Leah talks about fingering Sonja’s ass.
And Jeff’s like…
But lest you think this is just yet another trip down Sonja Morgan's a Shitfaced Mess Lane, Leah--the only one of these women grounded in any kind of reality--begins rapidly derailing.
Suddenly we're skinny-dipping with a bottle of prosecco while admitting we're peeing in the pool which, seriously, I just respect so much. You've surely witnessed these people who try to fake like they would NEVER pee in the pool or the shower or a particularly adventurous sex partner’s bed (wait what I’ve been hacked again) but we all fucking do it and I'm TIRED! EVERYONE PEES IN POOLS AND BODIES OF WATER AND THE SHOWER. ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE! And if you're one of the people crinkling your nose right now like "Eew no they don't" YES THEY DO AND SO DO YOU. You also pick your nose and smell your own farts. EVERYONE DOES THIS SHIT JUST SHUT UP! And while we’re here yelling at each other “MOIST” IS JUST A FUCKING WORD AND YOU NEVER HATED IT UNTIL IT BECAME A FUNNY INTERNET THING TO BE GROSSED OUT BY THE WORD “MOIST” SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! People like you are what makes life insufferable and I hope you die! But please subscribe and support me on Patreon first thank you!
Anyway, turns out Sonja isn't our Che Guevara like we said last week, it's Leah. First, she speaks out about the inauthenticity of tiki torches, dousing their bogus flames with her prosecco.
Tinsley protests that no, tiki torches represent fun! And parties! And Leah hits Tinsley with the realness.
WAKE UP SHEEPLE! HASHTAG DEEP STATE HASHTAG TWILIGHT OF THE ELITES HASHTAG TIKI TORCHES!
While Leah is screaming about the neoliberal tyranny of tiki torches outside, Dorinda is slurscreaming about something inside, but Leah’s siren song proves too strong for Sonja…
…and she sneaks out while everyone’s distracted by Dorinda’s moaning.
She joins the banshees skinny-dipping outside, where she delivers this classic line:
And if that just isn't the entire chunk of the muffin I just don't know what is. I've never felt so fucking seen in my entire life. I am shaken to my core.
Anyway, Leah has decided to take an even firmer stand on tiki torches…
And I’m in awe. Leah is bringing the same energy that me and the other broken-home ne’er-do-wells in my class brought to Halloween in seventh grade, when we went to our most hated teacher’s house and emptied the bags of leaves at the curb into her swimming pool and then went to the new condo development that was still under construction and overturned all the porta potties. This is some true Guns n F’n Roses “Welcome to the Jungle” shit and I have nothing but respect. Especially because, like any great leader, Leah has inspired those around her to take up her cause as well.
After hurling some tiki torches into Romana’s bushes, Sonja gets naked and now we're fully in a VHS porn shot in the Poconos in 1987 and how is this even allowed on prime-time television?!
What a time to be alive!!!
The ladies eventually move their tiddie party inside, but if you think that calms things down, not so much. A very drunk Dorinda drags Leah into the bathroom to put a bra on her, and then this happens.
And I honestly don't know what to say because I don’t fully understand the question. At first I was like, "Oh she must have an Always with Wings on? Like from those commercials in the 80s? Are maxi pads still a thing? What is menstruation?" And to be honest I'm still not entirely sure what exactly is being gotten at here, because I haven't even seen a vagina in roughly a quarter century, but I assume it has to do with the beautiful and wondrous variety with which God created the labia majora, and truly, is there anything more magical?
The majesty! The soaring visuals of Leah's mons pubis! Georgia O'Keefe could never! Anyway whatever Leah's got going on down there, it made an impression on Dorinda.
Next it’s time for these drunk women to shriek at each other about Sonja's divorce again.
And Leah, speaking for all of us, has had it with the name dropping.
I am paying this month’s Chase Freedom bill with this screencap.
And whatever class rage Sonja may have had last week has evaporated. She's had it with the rabble rousing.
Then Dorinda jumps in and starts attacking Sonja too, and now Tinsley is screaming in Sonja's defense. It is anarchy! Leah has truly had it with all this class signification and yells:
And Sonja yells back the perfect retort, which the captions tragically render incorrectly: “Don't you get all socialist with me!”
Honestly how dare these captions! That is better writing than anything I’ve ever come up with! Does nobody respect the artistry of television anymore? I’m canceling my Hulu Live subscription, this is bullshit! In any case, Sonja, having finished channeling everyone’s FoxNews Dad, moves the fight to the bathroom where she and Leah scream at each other while Sonja takes a piss and I just...
This is one of those things for which I envy women. Men could never do this! You can’t just keep arguing when wieners are out! Men could never continue an argument into a bathroom, it’d be like “Yeah man well fuck you! Oh hold up, lemme give you a minute,” “Yeah thanks man, be out in a sec.” It completely interrupts the flow of the dialogue and lacks dramatic stakes! And you might think that a gay bathroom would be different, but fun fact, no one has ever actually gone to the bathroom in a gay bathroom at a party, it’s simply gauche: gay party bathrooms are for fucking! So the fight would just immediately dissolve there too. And this is why there will never be a Real Househusbands franchise.
Anyway, now it's the morning after Leah’s storming of the Bastille and the house is destroyed.
And that's before we go into the back yard, which is strewn with broken glass and, of course, tiki torches, which Ramona blames on Sonja and Dorinda. And just in case we weren’t yet completely certain whether Leah is that bitch, she just goes right ahead and lets Ramona think it. Ramona stomps up the stairs yelling at Sonja and Dorinda, who hide under the covers like kids and this show is so good.
Unfortunately for Leah, Sonja rats her out, but when Ramona confronts her she’s cleverly cleaned the entire kitchen and is standing there like the cat that caught the canary.
And Ramona falls for it. What a fucking legend. This is like the time when I was a kid and me and my friends were reenacting the movie Space Camp (I was playing Trish, obviously) while my mom was at work, and in re-enacting the climactic space ship crash we broke the fireplace doors off the wall of the living room, so I picked a recipe from the Betty Crocker cookbook easy enough for a kid to make and had dinner waiting when she got home to create a diversion. And like, it didn't work at all because there was a giant soot-covered hole in the wall that left us completely exposed to the family of squirrels living in the chimney and also "Pizza With a Hamburger Crust" is some terrifying 70s-era cookbook bullshit and it was fucking disgusting.
But for 15 beautiful seconds when my mom first walked in the door it was exactly like this successful subterfuge of Leah’s which resulted in Ramona attacking Dorinda instead!
We stan a devious queen!
So there you have it—Episode 4! If you enjoyed this I would suggest you share it, subscribe, follow me on the social medias, and also give me money on Patreon if you want! That’s only four things! Real easy!
Okay thank you so much, keep your spirits up we will only be in the quarantine for two to three more forevers it’ll be over before you know it!