“The time has come,” the Housewives said,
“To talk of many things:
Of Blacks — and Whites — and bi-racials
Of Jewesses — and rings —
And why Charrisse drinks like a fish —
And whether Michael swings.”
And so begins the Epic Battle of Old Angler’s Inn. But before we get into all that, let’s back track, all the way to the beginning of this week’s chapter. Let’s take a skip down picturesque River Road, its stories as overgrown as its secret shady hideaways.
Previously on urgh god another Bravo monstrosity (Potomac), our ladies got to know one another over mediocre fundraisers, misguided conversations about race, and harebrained business ventures. And in between it all, they also had time to surf. Well, except for Charrisse, who found a moment to pour another cocktail.
And so, here we are: at the end of our road, with the days growing shorter and the nights submitting to the thrum of loud cicadas. School, work, and wicked September is on the horizon, so our ladies are doing all they can to seize these last moments in the sun.
Meanwhile, mired in a cold, damp crevice, ensconced in the world’s deepest, darkest cave, there is Charrisse – hibernating off her hangover. Over the sounds of dripping stalactites and whistling bats, she hears a phone ring.
Her right arm hurls out from under the covers and slams on the nightstand to clutch her cell before it can pollute the air with more noise. She mashes it into the side of her face that’s not buried in a pillow and answers: “Mrmmsfmmp.” It’s her friend Lorell, who raves about what a great party Charrisse threw the night before. She also compliments her on her DOPE RHYMES, and we get a flashback to Charrisse rapping like a white kid in the D.A.R.E program. Charrisse is equally happy with the success of her party, and doesn’t even seem to mind that the ghost she calls her husband wasn’t there. GOOD, Charrisse. Fuck him, get paid.
Over on the other side of the meadow, the producers are freaking out because they realized they filmed almost this entire season without one equestrian scene, which is PRETTY much the only distinguishing factor about Potomac besides rich people and the shitty pizza chain that they’ll defend to the death. So they round up Gizelle, Robyn, and some of their kids and drive them to a stable.
“Are you excited???!” the handlers coo, standing in a dusty circle that smells like grassy manure, bitter horse dander, and hardened leather. “NO,” Corey (Robyn’s son) answers like an honest, awesome little shithead.
Danator: The horseback riding makes me laugh. Once I was at a local winery and met a guy who grew up in Potomac and he talked about playing on the polo team at the local high school. I had SO MANY QUESTIONS. Is it BYOH (bring our own horse)? I have never actually SEEN anyone horseback riding in Potomac, but there are road signs everywhere for riders to cross and have right of way. I assume it’s more to make everyone feel pretentious and rich than for practical matters – I don’t picture Gizelle taking a horse off manicured fenced-in property and hitting the road or trails…. Any thoughts Babylegs? Are there secret packs of horses roaming the streets anywhere I haven’t seen?
Babylegs: I… um… went to horseback riding camp.
And maybe my high school was right nextdoor to a stable that my uncle’s best friend owned and maybe we had an equestrian team but that’s IT I swear.
I’M POOR NOW, OK???!
The two kids who have any manners mount their horses as Corey just walks around in an aimless circle.
Gizelle and Robyn sit on the bleachers. They talk sweetly about wanting the best for their children, sharing the same priority of celebrating black culture with the kids. It’s hard in Potomac, as made evident by the fact that Gizelle and Robyn are having this conversation at probably the whitest setting you could ever find.
Danator: Oh lord more race discussion. All I have to say is this – Katie was in the wrong last week, but Gizelle and Robyn talk with a lot of assumptions that Katie and Ashley don’t acknowledge or embrace/connect with their black heritage, and that seems… presumptuous.
Babylegs: Inevitably, talk turns to how fucked up it was for Katie to question their ancestry at the 50th birthday party. Cue Gizelle’s idea for the season’s final showdown: a “Come to Jesus” Luncheon in which all the ladies will be invited to Hash Things Out.
Karen’s also spending some QT with her kid, helping Rayvin pack for school and acting like she’s sending her off to the Trojan War. She’s not too broken up about it; as she reminds her daughter, it’s given her and husband Ray a chance to “date” again. By “dating” she means whatever is appropriate enough to insinuate to your daughter with a wink and salacious grin, which Karen does, which makes me do this.
Danator: Karen is helping her daughter pack. She’s taking brand new towels with tags and packing them in a box- What are you doing!! YOU GOTTA WASH THAT SHIT FIRST KAREN. It’s becoming more and more clear to me that money can’t buy you basic common sense…
Babylegs: Rayvin is obviously pretty stoked to be on her own and out of the tyrannical clutches of Karen Huger, but Karen still insists on visiting her for her 18th birthday and bringing her home after a month and refusing to allow her to make any friends or fraternize with any boys.
Get ready for this girl to go full Curtin on you.
