The "Real" Housewives of Orange County - The End!
It’s the big finale of the Real Housewives of Orange County and Bravo will henceforth be taking the series to New York to film some allegedly “real” women as they discuss their money and plastic surgery. Needless to say, I won't be participating in that spectacle.
But let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? About 90 percent of this final (hooray!) episode deals with Lauri and George’s wedding. Yes, it was beautiful. And, yes, everyone looked lovely. Skeletor only looked slightly freakish and George only slightly resembled a double-chinned lemur with an eyebrow twitch problem. Really, that's as lovely as it gets.
Needless to say, the cliffhanger from last week involving Lauri’s son Josh and his participation in the wedding ended well. He was indeed a part of the festivities and ultimately agreed to try and not do as many drugs in the future. Yay for him! Although the fact that Lauri had the whole thing filmed for national television seems to raise more red flags than I care to get into right now. Methinks Lauri needs more psycho therapy than her son. Yes, more therapy and less surgery. Her boobs look terrible—and that face! Guh!
Meanwhile, Quinn and Billy, who weren’t invited to the wedding, are vacationing in Vegas together and, boy is that vacation going south faster than Quinn’s Christian-cougar soul is plunging into the depths of hell.
New Japan Pro Wrestling - G1 Special In The USA
TicketsSat., Jul. 1, 5:00pm
Orange County Soccer Club vs. Portland Timbers 2
TicketsSat., Jul. 1, 7:00pm
Los Angeles Temptation vs. Pittsburgh Rebellion
TicketsSat., Jul. 8, 7:00pm
Orange County Soccer Club vs. Phoenix Rising FC
TicketsSat., Jul. 8, 7:00pm
See, Quinn can’t get over the fact that Billy doesn’t want to get married, so she has decided that it would be a great idea to bring up the subject over and over again during their “romantic” getaway. Well, Billy doesn’t think too highly of Quinn’s incessant chatter. Quinn, freakin’ nut bag that she is, decides to alleviate the tension by dressing up in a blond wig, skanky clothes and posing as her alter ego, "Roxy."
Poor Billy. It has become very clear at this point that he views Quinn as nothing more than a walking vagina with a crazy lady attached. And I’m pretty sure that’s all I can see her as, too.
Later, at dinner, Roxy has gone back to being Quinn and Billy just wants to have a quiet dinner without a side of psycho sauce. But oh no, Quinn decides to bring up the commitment issue AGAIN. Poor Billy. I mean, the guy just wants to get laid. Cut him some slack, lady.
It seems Quinn is confused (maybe that’s because she’s nuts). Is it Jesus she’s confused about? No, it’s Billy.
“Our chemistry is pretty undeniable,” Quinn says, but then she adds that Billy doesn’t have some of the core things that she wants, like a Bible. “Maybe my vision is unobtainable,” she says.
“Or unrealistic,” Billy answers back.
“Well then maybe you can be one of my buddies,” Quinn offers.
”I don’t want to be your buddy. We don’t have enough in common to be buddies.” Burn! Yeah, they break up.
Back in Coto, Jeana throws a "goodbye to television" party and all of the housewives are invited, even Jo, a housewife from last season. Vicki walks in and gets shitfaced right off the bat, as usual. Her daughter has to tell her to stop drinking because she is acting like a floozy and Vicki decides to yell, “She doesn’t like it when I get drunk, and I usually don’t.” Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
The whole party is abuzz with chatter about Vicki’s drunkenness and Jo’s career. Apparently Jo is performing at the Anaheim Grove later that evening and everyone is super proud.
“Maybe she is the opener for the opener of the opener or something,” Vicki’s daughter says.
“Or maybe she is parking the cars,” Vicki’s husband Donn answers. Ha! I love Donn. And apparently Jeana and Quinn love Donn too, because they are both throwing themselves at the poor bastard while his drunk wife hits on the waiter.
Ah, the drama continues—but from here on out, we won't be subjected to it. We will have only our imaginations to see how the rest of these spoiled bimbos’ lives play out. I don’t know about you, but I am imagining a mass suicide. Sweet release.