What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Well, guys. We made it. After 18 weeks (EIGHTEEN. WEEKS.), we’ve come to the end. The finale. The last hurrah. There are no pages left to turn, no trips left to take. There is only darkness. There is only pain.
I am so, so tired.
What did we learn this year? Tolerance? Forgiveness? That life can be snatched away with the roll of a go-kart, so we better cherish every minute?
I’ll tell you what I learned: these women are snakes, moving slyly through well-manicured grass. Even the ones you think you can trust are slithering around on their bellies, sinking their poison fangs into a collapsed tower of Krispy Kremes.
The season culminates at the eating party Shannon promised Tamra, the one with all the sweets and carbs she couldn’t have while she was training for L’il Sexy Meemaw 2016. Because Shannon is a woman of her word, Kelly and Vicki remain on the guest list, even though everyone would rather get poked repeatedly by Meghan’s IVF needles than be in the same room with either of them.
So here we are. In Shannon’s rental shanty overlooking the harbor. Now everyone can corner Vicki and Kelly and tell them exactly how they feel. Words will fly. Tears will fall. Apologies will be delivered and accepted and by the end of the night everyone will be gathered around the fire pit singing Kumbaya.
Just kidding! That will never happen. These women are probably broken forever.
Kelly won’t apologize for anything. She feels like she’s owed an apology because everyone tried to force-feed her booze in Ireland. This is a joke. You can only be mad at someone for ordering you a double tequila for so long, especially if you later screamed that that same person has chin stubble and an abusive husband. So what if the women wanted to provoke Kelly into a drunken rampage? It’s a little shady but it’s not an atrocity, especially in Bravoland, where Andy Cohen is our supreme leader and petty bullshit is our lifeblood.
And anyway, the joke is on Kelly because the ladies got their rampage in the end. Kelly wasn’t even drunk when she started screaming at everyone on that bus, proving that perhaps alcohol isn’t the problem—perhaps the problem is her deformed soul.
Vicki, flanked by Briana and that Steve guy, shows up with a gift and a card. Shannon opens neither, but we know that it’s an apology card because Vicki reads a little bit out loud on the limo ride over. Something about wanting to get back to a good place, making amends, how there’s a great man in her life that loves and cares for her—wait, sorry, what was that last bit? Something about her new dude? Only in Vicki’s brain does her new boyfriend have anything to do with her and Shannon’s friendship. This card might as well read: “I’m in a good place, be happy for me even though I told Kelly that your husband beats you.” Some apology.
Tamra has gifts for her friends. To thank them for all of their support during her rigorous pageant preparations. They’re tank tops (all size XS), and they depict each individual ladies’ “mugshot” along with their various crimes. Heather gets one that says, “Being too fancy.” Kelly gets one that says, “Drunk in public.” Vicki gets one that says, “Backstabbing, self-serving, delusional, lying she-devil.” (Okay, really, it just says “lying.”) But Vicki tosses her head back and laughs like she’s in the front row of a Carrot Top show, because that’s what she does best: pretend. That Brooks has cancer, that Shannon is her friend, that she’s not desperate and lonely for a man to validate her existence. Yes, she thinks as she hees and haws, this isn’t so bad. I can do this.
The party ends with both Shannon and Tamra declaring that they are “done” with Vicki. Do they mean it? I don’t even know anymore. Dr. Moon can probably provide Shannon a remedy for warding off evil spirits, but I’m not so sure about Tamra. She and Vicki have been down this road before. And anyway, how is Season 12 going to work if everyone refuses to shoot with the Original Gremlin of the OC? Something will have to give.
So, it is with a not-at-all-heavy heart that we bid another season of The Real Housewives of Orange County adieu. Sunrise, sunset. All that glitters is not gold. Whatever. Good riddance. With any luck, these women will rip each others’ arms off during the reunion and there will be a court-ordered halt on production until it’s safe for them to be around one another again.
And anyway, there’s always something to look forward to: Vanderpump Rules is back.