The prevailing domestic theme of last night’s ‘Real Housewives of D.C.‘ made us wax philosophical as we watched the Salahis hunt for a new home in the city: If Home Is Where the Heart Is, what happens if you don’t have hearts, as in their case? Does it mean the Salahis will forever be homeless? Pretty deep, huh? Give that a think and get back to me.
Little Lynda was also getting homey as she began clearing the air (literally) in her new suburban purchase through a unique spiritual exorcism of sorts. But before we get into that, we must give an honorable mention to Lynda’s guard dog situation. After careful consideration, I say nevermind on the German Shepard—Mr. Pug-licious Ichiban will do just fine, thank you.
While there is surprisingly more to say on yet another croak-worthy installment of ‘D.C.,’ I’ll let the recap do the rest of the yapping!
Fame Whores Need Homes, Too
Ring, ring, ring! Pretending that there’s no friction between her and Stacie, Michaele joyfully calls up the real estate queen to help her find a really overpriced home that she and Tareq plan on paying for with Monopoly money.
Stacie meets the shady couple at their fave haunt—the Four Seasons royal suite—and asks what kind of living situation they’re envisioning. Tareq, dressed in black to allow his frame to look as un-fat as possible, haughtily exclaims he needs a home that can cater to 200-plus victims guests. And price range? Michaele throws out between $100K to $12 million! Tareq brings her back to reality and says about $8 million. (That flippin’ cheapskate.)
Although hesitant because the shyster couple still haven’t supplied her with financial paperwork that shows what they can really afford, Stacie nonetheless hops into their limo and takes them to four properties. She discovers that Tareq’s mother hates her son’s guts and that the feeling is mutual. We understand, Mama Salahi, the feeling is mutual with us, too.
A Sage Cleans House
Being the holistic, psychic, astrology-loving spirit that she is, Lynda made sure none of the planets were in retrograde when she purchased her new ginormous home in McLean, Va., which happens to be a stone’s throw away from Mary’s pad.
To rid the house of potential bad energy, she takes bundles of burning sage and waddles around the room, allowing the pot-smelling plant to “clear” the air. As she goes about her ritual, suddenly, we see doors slamming! Windows bursting open! And then a demonic voice whisper-screaming: “GET OUT, LITTLE PERSON!” Fortunately, Lynda’s too high on sage to notice the angry spirits haunting her new digs.
Keep It in the Closet
It’s hard being Mary. People just don’t understand how stressful it is deliberating whether or not you need a housekeeper part-time or full-time, how to deal with your eldest daughter’s shedding dog, and now the current issue—how to stave off your daughter’s sticky fingers from Mommy’s pimped-out closet!
Case in point: The Men Against Breast Cancer fund-raising event. Although Mary is temporarily distracted by the fashion show segment, in which Paul Wharton sashays down the runway with his hair flowing like a Victoria Secret model, she suddenly catches sight of a familiar dress a few tables down. Why does it look so familiar? Because it’s hers and it’s on her thieving daughter Lolly-pops! As if in slow-mo, we watch Mary’s face defy gravity by contorting in ways that make it seem as if she hasn’t taken her fiber pills in months!
Face(book) the Reality
Jason prods Stacie to push forward in finding her biological Nigerian father, who we believe without a doubt is Seal. Although her birth mother, Heidi, has adamantly refused to give Stacie his name, Jason suggests another route: Contact Heidi’s white son, whom they tracked on Facebook!
Daanng, Heidi’s son is gonna get a kiss from a rose on the grave!
Cry Me a Vineyard
The Salahis drive up to the vineyard and commiserate over Tareq’s mother’s apocalyptic hatred for them. Michaele gets a bit emotional as she talks to her unusually taciturn hubby on why his Mommy Dearest would have anything against a money-grubbing Trish McEvoy makeup girl like herself.
But before they can say another word, Woo! Woo! Woo! Police sirens blare! The Terrible Twosome run out to see what the ruckus is about, and they quickly find out it’s another ‘F-You!’ message from Mama Salahi via the po-po to get off “her” property!
To win the suspicious officers over, Tareq frantically wipes the donut crumbs off his windbreaker and runs over to offer them some piping hot Krispy Kremes. Off in the distance, Michaele paces back and forth in a pair of black spandex that accentuates the human skeletal system. Tears roll down her face as she explains she wasn’t raised with such familial conflict. “It’s devastating!” she cries as her YSL mascara smears on her orange face.
If only she had her American Express on-hand to comfort her in such moments! Oh, the humanity!