PREQUEL TO A PARTY
Real Housewives Of DC Recap: Invitation To A Beheading
By Sexy Chatty Catty THIS EPISODE IS JUST AN AMUSE BOUCHE until next week's White House State dinner, so let's enjoy.
We finally get to see Lynda at work. She's casting models for a fashion show of Burkina Faso couture clothing. Sounds weird, right, since Burkina Faso is one of the poorest countries in Africa. As we watch pretty people shashay back and forth in a tight little space, she chats with the designer and her entourage. In the middle of her critique of a model we flash over to Michaele, who tells us that Lynda's just a bully.
Where did that come from? I thought her critiques were quite reasonable and models are used to people constantly telling them something is wrong with them. I don't think she's bullied Michaele, either. She just doesn't go for her shit.
Oh no, more mama drama at the Turners. Stacie's still on her "journey" (ugh) to birth parent hell. Jason has put out a plea to her birth mother's son on his Facebook page and they’ve asked him to contact them. Without telling him what it's about. Stacie says that Jason should leave his phone number because if the guy calls her she’ll faint and be no good. When this guy, who's mother has probably never told him about her African love-child, finds out what this is about he'll be the one fainting.
Mary, Lynda and Cat lunch and chat about life. Anyone passing their table could definitely tell they were dishing on somebody. After listening to Cat whine about getting her me time and how awful it is that Charles the photographer has to travel so much in his glamorous life, they get to the meat and potatoes -- the Salahis and all their dastardly deeds. "Was she really a Redskins cheerleader?" "She's been saying she's a model since 2005." "I hear they have a house they're not paying for!” “How can they say this stuff, this is such a small town and all their business is out there. Why lie?” “Are they in bankruptcy or just the winery?” “I hear they own a unicorn!” Uh, no, that was me.
“Everything with her is happy heart, joy, joy, telling people she's just met that she loves them!”
Meanwhile, the couple in question are in their white limo, grinning and discussing their beautiful, fabulous life.
At a Moroccan can dinner with another couple, the Salahis eat, drink and make joy joy. Michaele says Tareq only wants the best - best meal, best wine. Tareq says that together they are unstoppable. Well, they are, it seems, at every event in town. I think they are unstoppable. If you try to stop them they’ll go around to the kitchen door. Talk turns to polo and the America's Cup. Which brings the Salahis to talk about India. Hmmm, what a lead in.
These two, in addition to writing a book, opening a winery, hosting parties, running a polo club, going to parties and generally living large, are central to creating a bond between America and India through polo. Wow, who woulda thunk. They've spent a few weeks there on polo business and, of course, hung out with the royal family as well as top brass from India and America. I guess that's when she bought the now infamous red sari.
So now I ask this question -- where is the money coming from? They can take a weekend trip to Paris on three days notice. They limo everywhere. Spent a few weeks in India. Say they can afford a house between $100,000 and $12 million. I've never actually seen them pick up a check, pay or otherwise. And they had their lawyer makes sure everyone knew they were not responsible for one penny of Paul's party that they hosted. Where is the money coming from???? Michaele used to sell makeup (as Mary will make sure you know) so she has no cash. And we definitely know it’s not from Mom Salahi -- she hates them. In the immortal words of Yul Brenner, “It's a puzzlement.''
Anyway, the camera pans D.C. and it looks beautiful. Lynda's chatting with the Burkina Faso fashion designer and her crew which includes the wife of the Burkina Faso ambassador. They want to show that there's more to Africa than poverty and misery. There's fashion! Lynda plans on helping the ladies make their show a big success. I really like Lynda, she's so multi-culti. When she turns on her Southern charm, with her husky voice, you can't resist her.
Cat and Charles the photographer have an invite to the White House Christmas party. She wants him to print out this this photo that Charles took of Obama so she can have it framed and present it to him at the party. Charles says Obama is looking forward to meeting her. Heady stuff.
No word from Stacie's, I guess you'd call him stepbrother. She does. But I would think he'd need a minute to think about their query, coming out of the blue and being so mysterious. Full of ideas Jason thinks they should contact the Nigerian Embassy. Stacie scoffs at that since they don’t even know her father's name.
Lynda phones Mary to make sure she got her invite to the fashion show. She assures her that the Salahis will be tossed out on the rears if they even try to poke a pinky into the room. Mary's bringing Lolly and knows there would be quite a scene if she got to tangle with Michaele and Tareq. She's relieved.Michaele tells us that Mary and Lynda are cliquey while she's into giving love, love, big love all around, get it out there, love everyone. It's all you need when you live in the land of unicorns and rainbows.
After scoffing at Jason, we see the Turners coming out of the Nigerian Embassy with an official. They talk at a coffee shop about Stacie's quest and lack of real information. The official, Stella, looks incredulous when she finds out they don't have a name. But they do have a photo and from the dress she says he looks like a chief. When Stacie mentions where her father is from it turns out the official says, "That’s my state." Stella determines that Stacie is an Ibo and says she knows a professor that may be able to help them. She remarks that she and Stacie resemble each other and calls her sister. Well, maybe. They leave with kisses and hugs all around.
Lynda, looking chic in her Burkina Faso frock, chases down the guards to make sure they have photos of the Salahis and is chagrined when they don't. She starts to describe them. She is serious about this. She says they’re sneaky. After all, they snuck in the back door to crash the Black Caucus dinner. Holla. Cat walks down the aisle to her front row seat and finds her nemesis Erika already seated. I don't think she acknowledges Erika at all and leaves an empty seat between them. Which Mary fills as she tells us that she's outta that, they have to work it out between them. Cat pretty much tells us -- fuck her (meaning Erika).
We see Michaele getting her makeup and hair done for a big affair. At first she tells everyone it's so very hush hush, confidential. Then proceeds to spill everything -- it's Obama’s first state dinner, 400 people, she used to work at the White House doing make up, under a tent, India, sari. Wait, wait, hold up. Did she say she used to work at the White House doing makeup? Yes. Says she called the social secretary to see if wearing a sari is appropriate because you have to be appropriate, quiet and humble if you ever want to be invited again.
So the hairdresser, all hyped up now, wants to see the actual invite. Michaele says she left it in the car and will go out to get it. She goes out, looks around the back seat, no, no, not here. Then she has the driver open the trunk so she can look there. She says, "Oh, there it... oh, no that's not it.” She goes back in empty-handed. A producer prods her memory. "You said you were going to get the invitation to show her." “Uh, what?” She's looking all wonky, like she doesn’t quite, oh, yea. Well, she couldn’t find it. The producer wonders why that doesn’t seem to be a big deal to her, that she can’t find it. Girlfriend glosses over that problem and moves on to putting her sari on.
After they get into the limo, Stacie calls. Both women’s voices rise five octaves when Michaele tells Stacie they're off to the White House. And... it’s over.
Next week we’ll see what caused the headlines.
Also this year, the materialistic Madonna has set her daughter Lola, 14, up with her own fashion line named – what else – Material Girl.
