I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it’s weird to shout “Whoa, I’m getting seasick” on a ferry in the midst of all your friends and then proceed to sit there and start retching. That’s weird, right? Heather has to jump in and correct this bizarre (dare I say camera desperate?) behavior on Vicki’s part, shooing her off to the bathroom. Tamra notes, in a Housewives tradition, that it’s “not a great trip so far.” Shannon’s sick, Meghan’s annoying and Lizzie might be pregnant. Vicki’s half-hearted woohoo says it all. So far, Tahiti is a bust.
Things start to turn around at the ethnic Tahitian welcome dance that apparently is performed—when truly authentic—without the constriction of underwear. They were blurred out, but we can always count on Tamra to observe things like, “That’s his balls.” Never change, Tamra.
The positive trend continues as the ladies ride their golf cart out to their amazing rooms on stilts where I am 99% sure the Kardashians stayed several seasons ago. Sofitel has a killer publicist. Even my partner, a major disdainer of the entire Bravo network, remarked that the rooms looked fantastic, with their soaring ceilings, private decks and windows into the turquoise water beneath.
Shannon only has eyes for the plate of chocolates in her room. Everyone else—they’re thinking of the view! The amazing ocean! Shannon’s like, oh shit they put chocolate in my room. So I guess, in general, I’m wondering about Shannon. She treats her constant cough with a “nebulizer” every day to “keep her lungs clear.” I don’t even have to Google it to know that this is garbage nonscience. Shannon, the nebulizer miracle cure could be your problem. Think about it.
BTW Meghan’s room is like on an entirely different branch of bungalows. Like, she’s on the New Girl Peninsula.
Tamra’s boobs continue to stay relevant. She’s invested a lot of money, time and storyline in these boobs and there they are, tiny blurry bits in the center of immobile flesh globes. Heather acts like Tamra taking her tits out is some sort of huge scandal but they are in French Polynesia and after all the boob talk we should probably get to see them.
I feel like I should always mention when I agree with Meghan on anything, so we’re copacetic when she says, “Just try your food.” Exactly. Housewives are always really immature when faced with a menu that is in any way exotic.
The producers waste no time in delivering two different pregnancy tests into Vicki’s capable hands so she can force Lizzie into peeing on a stick, thereby breaking her intolerable abstinence from alcohol. This is why Vicki IS the OG of the OC. She’s the enforcer. No bullshit fake pregnancies on her watch. Lizzie does an admirable job concealing her disappointment at the pregnancy test being negative and admits defeat, saying, “Vicki start the fun bus.” She knows there is no escape.
These women rock a beach cover up and seem to be hitting the bar straightaway, although time is always weird on these vacation sequences. It could be 8AM it could be 2PM. Anyway, Meghan tosses out more of her stepmother garbage and everyone in the viewing public and on the show is unified in our distaste for all of it. Meghan is like a scared bird, her head twitching this way and that, as the women try to make her understand that it is not OK for her to say “I wish I was their Mom.”
Somehow these Orange County ladies end up on a tiny boat in a bay full of stingrays and small sharks. I imagine there’s a certain necessity to push the ladies to do more and more outrageous, extraordinary things but feeding giant wild stingrays is weird and also ecologically questionable. They all balk but because I like to say nice things about Meghan whenever possible, I admire her attitude of jumping right in. Good for you, Meghan. Also, you look fantastic in that teensy tiny bikini.
That night, Vicki, Shannon and Tamra straight up boycott dinner out with the other ladies, claiming they are tired. This is code for “down to party.” A bottle of Grey Goose materializes in Vicki’s room before they head down to the hotel bar and again, flummoxed by the idea of being in another country, order fireball shots. They are shocked when neither their server nor the bartender seems to know what that is. Instead of trying to find something perhaps more Tahitian, they force themselves to drink these “fireballs” (apparently vodka on ice) grimacing all the while, until they are awesomely wasted. Possibly a Housewife record.
Meanwhile, Lizzie is literally yawning at dinner with Meghan and Heather. These three do not work together. No one is cracking the whip and enforcing shots and handing out pregnancy tests. Which group would you want to hang out with?
Both groups spend some time talking about the Meghan stepmom, but what she said is just so wrong-minded it’s hard to devote any space to it. The best thing I can offer about Meghan as a stepmom is that she really seems to care. And that means a lot! The thing is, these kids are basically grown and her marriage to Jimmy is all of four months old. She should be thinking of herself more as Daddy’s good friend rather than Mommy.
In any case, did I mention that Tamra, Vicki, and Shannon have managed to get record-setting wasted? Tamra’s toast for the fourth or fifth shot is, “Lights out, ass up” which I cannot wait for the opportunity to roll out. There are pinkies in the air, arms waving, a Tamra-Vicki kiss. Someone’s cell phone rings and they all start gyrating at the table like they are in Ibiza. Vicki is eyes-closed drunk. She remarks to the sober threesome upon their return, “I can’t be sure but I think we had one too many drinks.”