Two major changes: Tammy is gone for good and Quinn (the cougar) has been replaced by Gretchen, a 30-year-old from Detroit who makes all of the other ladies feel uncomfortable because she's so much more attractive than they are. She even has real boobs. This makes Tamra, who claimed to have hers removed and reduced (she didn't) feel inferior (because she's a liar).
This addition to the clan means that Tamra is no longer the hottest housewife, and she's handling the demotion like any classy, 40+ lady would: by talking shit and getting more plastic surgery. In the episode opening, for example, she and her mother spend some quality bonding time at a plastic surgeon's office getting face lift consultations and lip injections.
Beautiful Gretchen is engaged to Jeff, who is four times divorced and looks like a skinny Kenny Rogers. He is 23 years older than she is and has leukemia. She says she wasn't attracted to him at first, but then he was just so “generous” that it made the “physical stuff not matter.” By “generous,” she means, he buys her whatever she wants. See, Jeff is a self-made millionaire who earned his fortune working as an engineer in the automotive industry. Gretchen says he's built an empire. Lets hope that empire isn't GM. . .
Speaking of divorce, Vicki and her husband Don (loves me some Don, can't fucking stand Vicki) appear to be having some marital troubles
this season and it looks like Vicki might finally set him free from her
annoying, giraffe-faced clutches. Run Don! Don't ever look back!
Lauri is back, too. And this season she will continue to look deformed,
discuss her new marriage and struggle with her son's drug use. Yawn. And Jeana, who's separated from her husband, continues to let the
asshole live in her house and treat her like shit so she has an excuse
to constantly over-eat.
In this particular episode, Jeana hosts a trunk show at her home so all
the women can do what they do best–get drunk, spend money and talk shit
on each other. Gretchen attends the spectacle to meet these horrid
wenches for the first time and is extremely nice to them–saying they
look hot and actually thinking they're not two-faced. She's so naive
that it's almost painful to watch. The wenches greet her with smiles
that cleverly conceal their jealousy. I give poor Gretchen a month
before she changes her ways and becomes one of them: shallow, self-centered and soulless.
But maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe this will be the season that one of these women will learn
money can't buy them happiness. All it does is inflate the false sense
of entitlement that they're all hopelessly addicted to. Perhaps one
will finally realize how ridiculous they all look to the majority of the
thinking world and the only people who respect them are leeches who
want nothing more than to take their money and cling to their broken
philosophies of put-downs and degradation so they can feel better
about their own sad lives. Maybe she'll donate her wealth to charity,
marry for love and buy a modest home where she can raise the babies
she's adopted from Third World countries while she feeds local homeless
out of her garage.
Or maybe the new girl will get a boob job and turn into yet another
Orange County consumeristic Republican clone who talks about her
“friends” behind their backs and cries herself to sleep at night,
drunk, in her multimillion-dollar mansion, wondering why she feels so
hollow on the inside.
I've got my money on the latter. It's more fun to watch.