REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS PHOTO RECAP: Season Three, Episode Three… “Don’t Sing For Your Supper”…

                  Hurry up, Ma, and add those grapes!  I love your “goin’ to the prom” chicken salad tradition…

                 But… WHY do we have Chicken Salad as a prom tradition?   Aunt Kyle’s prom tradition is givin’ her kidz a brand new Ferrari and $367,899… CASH!

                    Your Aunt Kyle stole my house… nuff said.

                   Who is this “Kyle” person… and do she have any daughters lookin’ fer prom dates?  I mean, I’ll hug ya and all that, but I really could use some new wheels…

              Thanks, Mrs. R!  As soon as I’m done takin’ Janice here to the prom, I’ll give Kyle’s daughter a call… I could really use that CASH!

 “DAMMIT!!  He just looked at the check I gave him.  MEH… he’ll make up the difference when he takes FrontPorcha to the KindergartenKarnival next month…”

                     You should also know that I’ve worked for many other well-known, big-money, snobby-people in the Hills of Beverlee…

                           If you plan on continuing to work for ME, you cannot work for any of those other people.  Do you understand?  Sprechen ze Deutsch?

                  Well, I could barely understand what you’re sayin’… but, you should know that I hate the following clients:  Camille Grammer and… well, just Camille Grammer.

                    Zat iz enuf for me to know!  As long as you hate Camille, I can tolerate your taking those four-hour “fatigue” breaks…

                 Since when did you learn spell??  And spell actual words that add up to sentences?  And… put them all together in a parental demand letter?  WHEN??

                      Aunt Kim taught me how to spell… and she told me about YOU stealin’ her car and ditchin’ it!  Aunt Kim promised me three gallons of chicken salad to drive down Mullholland and jump outta the driver’s seat…. and I LOVE her chicken salad!  Let’s roll!

                             I heard about your accident on Mullholland.  Wotz the big deal?  You only bonked your head straight through the bloody windshield… I doubt that anyone will realize that you’re brain damaged.  Keep a stiff upper lip, Kyle… oh, your upper lip IS permanently stiffened!  Just a bit of the old British humor!   Is Kim’s chicken salad really that good?  I might want to serve it at Villa Blanca…

               That butler guy is pizzing me auf!  Theez iz not my job…  

                  Where the hell is that damn butler guy?

                     OH!  Now I find you in zee keetchun!  You should be prank callin’ Camille like I told you!  Ask her if she has Prince Albert in a can… or even better… ask her if her refrigerator is runnin’!

                    Why am I always being escorted by you two?  You’re getting the bad edit this season, Adrienne. Oh!  You didn’t know that…

                       Oh, Kyle!  If you wanna be included in more of my “super dinner parties for the self-important”… you might want to inform your hubbend over there that MY butler takes no less than $1,000 to park a car.  He’ll need $10,000 to park your wrecked one.  Now, who’s this straggler wit da stringy hair…is she wit you?

                    You had to bring my sister, didn’t you, Paul?  Paul?  PAUL?   

                     You didn’t know that Kyle’s sister, Kim, has cooties? Yeah… Kyle did another surprise home inspection on Kim, just to make sure she’s not hiding Ken in her house… and she caught Kim washin’ her hair with RidX!  Kyle will NEVER get that Pantene endorsement deal now…

                     Oh, no… I can’t sit next to Kim… ya know, cooties and all…

               Tonight we’ll be serving all you high-falutin’, curtain-rods-for-brains, low-enough-on-the-celebrity-Zlist-to-agree-to-appear-on-a-reality-show, actin’ all happy to be here people… Nebraska-raised prime rib roast with an apricot confit stewed in triple-malt scotch…

                Love you!  Love you back more!!  That triple-malt scotch was a great touch!

                    HEY!  Morris, Maurice,  Reece-e-o!  YO!  Kyle’s hubbend! The guy who stole Kim’s house!  Yeah… you!  Git yer fingers offa my hubbend’s piano!  If you wanna play my hubbend’s piano, you better git yerself a Grammy first… only Grammy winner touch those keys.  

                     OK, Jeeves, it appears that our tony guests want MORE of the apricot stuff!  Just bring out the whole pot of the apricot confit WITHOUT the apricots… and ten straws.  And while you’re at it, get rid of the Morris-tainted piano and bring in one of the 7,287 replacement pianos from the shed out back.

                    Let’s have an intimate talk with me, David Foster.  As we do with ALL of our dinner parties, my lovely wife, Yolanda, and I only require ONE thing of our guests.  Are you all paying attenshun?  Do you understand what I’m saying?  Are you all still smashed on the apricot sauce?

                 Quick, David… play faster music so I can herd these lushes into the kitchen and make them prank call Camille.  It’s better when they’re wasted… if Camille ever asks them, they REALLY won’t remember!