On last night’s Real Housewives of New York… ‘LAST CALL, MOROCCO’
Jill Zarin and Ramona Singer were still recovering from their vicious verbal vacuous venom vitriolic version of a married couple’s spat; Housewives got henna’d; they got a personal tour of a huge stucco building; they ate dinner; some were late for dinner; some weren’t told what time dinner would be; they saw belly dancers dance; they helped in the kitchen; they tagined and got caftan’d; and packed their bags… oh, they haven’t left yet, that’s next week…
Ramona: Geez Sonja, I know the rules about us all getting one-on-one camera time, but you didn’t have to tell Alex that Simon was Skype-ing his boner. I mean, that’s just making me sick. Couldn’t you have just knocked her unconscious or somethin’?
I would suggest that you order everything on this menu. For God’s sake, your toaster oven is an electrical hazard and your oven is a home for rabbits! Andy knows your situation… just have it all shipped.
Sonja: Did the maitre’ d just say that shipping overnight will be $9,700 USD?! Alex: When you get back, just give Andy a Pillsbury crescent roll and tell him it’s a Moroccan flijahibibi… he’ll slip it through accounting.
Jill: So, Miss ‘Let’s All Go to Morocco’ leaves us here with the Unabomber… again. I don’t understand one word of what he’s saying, there’s no translator, I’m really getting pissed. If I were travelling with my Bawbee, none of this would ever happen…
Ramona: We were all at the Moroccan Taj Mahal and she just said she had something to do. So, how is that any different from me and Sonja taking a drive when we got here? Alex: Should I kick her ass when she gets back? Ramona: Oh thanks, Alex… but I can do my own ass-kickin’.
Look, I made you a promise and I keep my promises. But, you have turned on me during this trip and I don’t like you very much right now, so maybe I will mention something to someone. I just have to think about this… LuAnn, please leave.
Oh, Alex. YOU don’t tell ME to leave… ever. Let me remind you… if it wasn’t for me, YOU would not be here. YOU would not even be on this show. YOU would be an unemployed mother of two little… ahem… ‘precocious’ little boys, married to a concierge of a second-rate hotel, who lives in BROOKLYN. YOU and your kids and your husband would be living on food stamps if it weren’t for ME getting YOU on this show. So, let me remind you again… it would be best for you to keep quiet.
My boys are lovely children and yes, they are rambunctious boys and I live in Brooklyn, so what! I love Brooklyn. Simon was NEVER a concierge, he was the manager and the hotel was NOT second-rate! You’re second-rate! YOU are second-rate, LuAnnie…
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the craziest of them all? You are. No, YOU are. Shut up! You’re weird. NO, you’re weird. Noooo… YOU’RE weird. Shut up! No, YOU shut up! You’re weird and I won’t shut up! Make me! No, you make me! That is not the way to do things… you don’t tell someone to shut up and then tell them that they’re weird. It’s weird. No, YOU’RE weird. LuAnn entering room: Kelly, who are you talking to? Kelly: Uh…
Really, Alex? Really? You really like it? ‘Cause Cindy did it. She called it ‘hairjazzling’ and she used these very short extensions that she brought with her that are only made at her shop. She said that’s why my hair got all curly. You really like it???
We KNEW it was you that took the hangers, Cindy
Clipclop whatever… you will be doing all of my ladyscaping when we get back to New York. And Mario’s, too. No, never mind, just mine… forever. Sonja can make her own deal with you…
He embarrassed me and I will not stand for that behavior. That’s the ONLY reason I wanted to show you girls Morocco… I certainly would not have picked this desert filled, poverty-stricken country otherwise.
I was so proud of myself. It was perfect. They were both there, and I felt a little like ‘Betty Broderick’, except, of course, I’m not fat, old or ugly. But I have to say, it was very satisfying to off the Count and his Moroccan gold-digging girlfriend. No one… no one will ever take my title away… no one. Ever. And, I checked… America does not have a fugitive reciprocal agreement with Morocco, so as soon as I hit US soil, I’m free!
Moroccan police arrested Countless LuAnnie just as the AirMoroc flight attendant was making the pre-flight safety announcements.
Jill fell in love with all the glitzy fabrics in Morocco and LuAnnie promised her all the fabric that she wanted for life, or as long as Zarin Fabrics stays in business, and you know Jill… she could not pass up a good deal!
And Cindy? LuAnnie told me, just in a conversation, because you know that I knew nothing about this while we were there. I knew nothing. But… LuAnnie told me that Cindy would be a tough one and was ready to pay her $100,000 a month for the rest of her life, but she was joking and told Cindy that she could be a Countess, too, and Cindy said, “OK!”
Cindy told me that she was sick and tired of her last name and Countess Cindy sounded much better than Cindy
Barmop Mophead Headshop Headcount Headboard Bedboard Breadbox Boxtop Boxcar Carhop CarLot SirMixALot Beyonce whatever…