Real Housewives of Atlanta: “The Bride and the Doom” Part 2 February 1, 2011Posted by Skippy in Real Housewives.
Ok, so no one can find the marriage license. Supermodel is freaking out, because apparently, in Georgia, you can’t get married if the person officiating the wedding doesn’t have it in hand. Well, guess what, y’all? The license is there…but it’s in the hands of the Greek Chorus. They convene outside and debate whether or not they should give Supermodel the license. How dare these heifers stand in the way of true love!
After we come back from commercial, the Greek Chorus decides that Sugar Daddy isn’t right for Supermodel. These are some hateful bitches.
Anyway, Kim and Kroy the Impregnator show up…with their own bottle of wine. That Kim is the very picture of class and sophistication. Kroy looks at Kim with this bemused expression. I’m pretty sure this was before he knocked her up. NeNe shows up, shade is thrown. Kandi shows up, and the class level goes up exponentially. NeNe interviews that Kim is invisible to her. How could you not see her with giant fake breasts like that?
Speaking of big breasts, the Frog and the Hot Piece of Ass show up. He really cleans up well. I hate that froggy bitch. She interviews that she’s showing off her figure…in a hot mess of a dress and too much jewelry.
So, the evil stepsister Malorie tells Supermodel everything’s okay and then leaves the room crying. What the hell is wrong with Malorie? She’s crying like she’s dying. Anyway, the Frog interviews, “Some people in Atlanta love to front and flex like they have money when they’re really in foreclosure and bankruptcy; so it really doesn’t surprise me that Cynthia was able to pull off this million dollar wedding with fifty cents.” She encapsulated what I despise about Atlanta. Sheree comments about the lack of chairs and what-not. Shut up, bitch. Where’s your Aston-Martin?
Sugar Daddy staggers down the aisle. The bridesmaids do their march and Malorie walks down the aisle, happy as all get-out—oh, wait, that was a typo. Supermodel says she is getting cold feet, and Bravo tries to milk some drama before commercials. Fools, we know THEY ALREADY GOT MARRIED.
Oh, she doesn’t run! What a surprise! Anyway, Supermodel interviews that she knew she was doing the right thing. Whatever; talk to me in five years. She is walked down the aisle by her brother and cheap-ass daddy. This orgy of heteronormativity ensues, and I want to shoot all involved. Malorie definitely wants to shoot someone. She’s crying, but they are not tears of happiness. I think she’s envious like a motherfuck.
Anyway, the Bravo-sponsored nuptials continue, with Sugar Daddy putting on his bifocals to read his vows. Yep, he’s old, y’all. They read their vows…and I am at this point certain that they won’t make it five years. Anyway, NeNe interviews that the ceremony was short—there was no exchange of rings and the vows were shorter than my hair after a trip to the barber shop. But who are we to say what love is, NeNe asks.
The wedding is over and the soon-to-be divorced couple are introduced by Kunte or Kithe the Hutt as “Mr. and Mr. Peter Thomas”—he’s probably smashed, because he has to repeat himself and still gets it wrong. Dwight approaches NeNe with his pathetically tacky date. He wants to have a conversation with NeNe. They have a ridiculously insubstantial conversation, but they get on the dance floor and cut a rug. NeNe interviews that she’ll get her happy back.
Time for post mortems!
NeNe: “With her divorce pending and Gregg still in the basement, NeNe dreams of a move to LA…to get her happy back.”
Kandi: She is still looking for a man, but in the meantime, will continue to substitute work for companionship: “Issues with ‘The Ring Didn’t Mean a Thing’ remain unresolved and the single unreleased. Kandi travels to promote her new album…but not by bus.”
Phaedra: She feels complete with all her accoutrements: “Phaedra balances litigating and diaper changing. She is planning Ayden’s baptism…Dwight is busy planning the party.”
Sheree: She is in a great place and is dating. She thinks she is “acting.” “The producers of the film called, Sheree got the part. She’s still dating..but checks credentials first.”
Kim: She is in a good place and is in love with Kroy’s wallet. “Kim and NeNe haven’t spoken since Miami. She and Kroy are home hunting to make room for their growing family…a baby is expected in June.”
Cynthia: It’s happily ever now. She’s already planning her escape. “Cynthia is learning to separate romance from finance and remains happily married. Peter is opening a small lounge in Atlanta…Cynthia is not investing.”
Ok, children, rant time. Atlanta is, as my friend Meredith puts it, a cesspool. Sure, it’s a great place to be—if you are in your twenties, have a shit load of disposable income and have a high tolerance for utter and complete bullshit. Actually, it’s a great place if you’re an utter and complete bullshitter. I cannot count the people I met who pretended to be “ballers” and what-not, but lived four deep in a two-bedroom apartment. There are people who live in a Podunk apartment, but drive a luxury car. There are more hustlers and liars than you can shake a stick at—and the megachurch culture of the city only exacerbates the bullshit.
Children, and let me say a word about the black gay culture of the city. It’s abysmal. There are a few folks who work to better the lives of everyone else (isn’t that usually the case?), but by and large, the culture is oriented around parties and pretense. I lived there over ten years ago and went back this past summer to hang out with a friend who was there for a conference. A group of us went to Bulldog’s…and I saw guys in the club that I saw in the clubs when I used to live there. They were the living example of the saying “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”
Actually, the same thing can be said about the Atlanta housewives…