Vicki, take a percocet and leave us alone.
Pregnant women can get away with so much. They can eat straight from the garbage can. They can cry during pet food commercials without anyone making fun of them. They can skip any party and stay home instead to watch Bring it On. They can say they aren’t friends with Vicki Gunvalson, then show up to her house with a Jim Edmonds signature candle and cry about how they’re just so so glad she’s okay.
No matter what happens, they can blame it on the hormones.
By now it’s clear that the Glamis Dune Disaster® has divided the Real Harpies of Orange County into two factions: those who will be forever scarred, plagued by flashbacks and night terrors and mysterious bumps in their lower back, and those who can’t possibly relate to the pain, the horror, the sheer nightmare of seeing your friend’s helmet fly off her head and into the sand.
Heather, Kelly, Tamra, and Vicki belong to the first group. They’re the survivors, the lucky ones who lived to tell their stories, and they’re bonded forever by what happened in the dunes that day. Shannon and Meghan belong to the second group—the heartless guttersnipes who couldn’t be bothered to drop what they were doing and bring sweatpants to someone they don’t like.
Who was obligated to do what that day? Was Meghan obligated to tell Shannon about the accident as soon as Shannon got to her house? Should they have cancelled their couples weekend in Palm Springs to rush to Vicki’s bedside? Should the medics have said, “No ma’am, we’re not going to take a photo of you lying on the stretcher, we’re professionals”?
Here’s the thing: THEY’RE NOT VICKI’S FRIENDS. Last I checked, both Shannon and Meghan were very open about where they stood with Vicki, the consensus being a hearty “thanks, but no thanks.”
Sure, there was that time Vicki brought Meghan a pregnancy gift. And then there was Vicki’s birthday party at Merv Griffin’s house. That was nice. Splashing around in the pool, talking about babies. But is that any reason to drop your golf game and go running to the hospital at the first mention of “life flight”? Apparently it depends on who you ask… and when.
Because at first Meghan is very adamant that she doesn’t belong at Vicki’s bedside. She tells Heather and Kelly that they should go visit Vicki; they’re her friends. She and Jim have company, and that company is Shannon and David Beador and they really don’t like Vicki, so the whole thing is just weird and inconvenient. So no, she won’t be making it to Palm Springs General, but could someone pass the chocolate cake, please? She’s eating for two!
That would have been enough for me. But Meghan knew it wasn’t gonna be enough for the ladies, so she shows up at Vicki’s house bearing gifts, eyes brimming with tears about the tragic accident, apologizing about not understanding how bad it was. Vicki, who is not in the position to be withholding forgiveness from anyone, lets her know that it’s all okay. The important thing is that she’s fine, and that Meghan will just please start to invite her to things because God she is so, so lonely.
You see, no one but Briana has the balls to say what’s really going on: VICKI IS EMBELLISHING THESE INJURIES. Did you see her pulling a full FDR during Meghan’s visit? Confined to her armchair, a plush throw covering her legs so as not to show weakness? And my god, the photos! I mean honestly! How serious can your injury be if you’re sending photos to your friends during the life flight?
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Vicki believes that the Glamis Dune Disaster® is her ticket out of Friend-bo (that’s “friend limbo,” a term I use for the people whose Facebook friend requests I ignore). Now that she’s weakened by tragedy, everyone will have to forgive her for being involved in a fake cancer scheme. All her friends will have to come to her bedside and stroke her hair and coo about how they’re just so glad she’s okay.
You see, a serious head injury might have knocked the truth loose. Vicki may have come so close to death only to realize that helping a con man pull one over on her friends and family was a fucked up thing to do. She might have apologized—genuinely this time—for lying to her loved ones, and for putting the needs of a shifty grifter before theirs.
But, Vicki will have to settle for this sad little pity party. It might not bring her true friends back, but at least she’ll have a nice candle to burn while she cries alone, into the dark.