The Real Housewives of New York…
“MISFORTUNE TELLER”… Part II
Yeah, it’s too bad that those other people on the show couldn’t fly with us… but we’ll be first ones there… we’re number one! We’re number one! We’re number one! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! Tone it down, Kelly…
Look at all those big guys wearing white… and they’re holding a white coat with long, floppy sleeves and buckles. That’s pretty cool looking, huh Kelly? Kelly, they want you to try it on. Yeah, go ahead, Kelly. I’ll take pictures for you. Good, they got her! Step on it, Moheeb. Didn’t I tell you Kelly was crazy? I’ve been saying that since the day she came on the show. She’ll be thanking me for this. We’ll pick her up on the way back to the airport…
I’m supposed to tell you that I’m flying right now and I’m way up in the air on my way to Morocco… even though you can clearly see the ground lights and reflections of other planes still on the ground. No, no one watching the show will notice. Yes, I know YOU will, but Andy says that he can get away with just about anything ’cause the people who watch HWs are ready to lap up anything… yeah, he said that. Really.
Kelly: Let’s all toast: “To having a great time on Bravo’s dime.” Hey, that rhymed! Countless: Where’s Kelly? Kelly!? Cindy: Kelly just said ‘Marrakech’ and ‘treasure chest’ and asked for a shovel. She said something about finding her satchels of gold here…
Sahibe, I have been to many, many places all over the world, so I have to take photos because I have an especially valuable bag, a very valuable bag. My green bag is the most valuable because that green bag has my screenplay for John Travolta in it. So, I’m putting down my camera and walking away for ten minutes… uh, because I have to find film. Did you hear me? I said, “My green bag has valuables in it. Ger-een bag…John Travolta.” Damn. I been cartin’ around that script everywhere… my lawyer told me that if it was stolen I could get out of my bankruptcy.
Look here Mz Baena… I know who you are. You think you’re gonna hide out in Morocco until the whole Ah-nuld thing goes away. Well, you’re wrong, ’cause I know who you are and no, you cannot come home with me and Mario. But I got your number, so you just follow me around with a bottle of my chilled pinot grigio and fill my wine glass when it’s running low and I won’t tell anyone I ever saw you.
Look, it’s my friend from New York. It’s such a small world! I’m in an out-of-the-way Moroccan shop and out of all the people who I know in NYC, who should just drop in the same little shop in Morocco? Have you seen Sonja’s va-jay-jay yet?
I could not believe that Brian Boles walked through that shop door. I mean Andy was putting up such a stink about my suggestion of Morocco… and then they just think nothing of sending over Brian… with a friend, I might add.
Ramona: Countless was so mad about Jillz friend, Brian, being here that she popped her neck veins out real big. See? These, right here. They were about to explode on her. I swear to you, Sonja. I’ve never seen LuAnn so mad and her eyes were bulging, too… like that new girl in Jersey, only ten times bigger.
I know you’re all wondering what big-mouth Ramona said about me. As you can see, I did not blow up my neck veins. But, you can all be assured that as your host, I did make arrangements for a very special clean-up crew. Let me introduce to you, the very best vein popping cleaner-upper and he specializes in cleanin’ up explodin’ heads… Mr. Messy Mike, the Moroccan Kleanup King. Mike cleaned up Sadam Hussein AND his boys, so he knows what he’s doing.
Alex looks like a hypnotized freak with claw for hands. No, Ramona, Alex looks like Frankenstein’s wife, except she needs those bolts on her neck. Where can we get those bolts? Either she does this or it’s the va-jay-jay. Changed your mind yet, Alex?
Lucky for us, I escaped that looney-bin and got back here just in time to see that the fortune-teller was trying to swindle Ramona and Sonja. Even though I don’t like them, what I hate more are bullies and that badly-dressed woman was a bully. I just did what any friend would do. I beat the ever-lovin’ crap out of her. Yep, beat her… just like I beat the crap out of my boyfriend. She’s so beat that you can’t even tell where her eyes are… yeah, my knuckles are sore, but I’m very satisfied with it.