I wonder if Bravo has considered a spin-off for Landon yet.
In her mind, I’m sure the ideal solo series would be about an intrepid divorcee roaming the world — sorry, ROAMING the world, sorry, TROVARECOING the world — in search of self (and hence, love).
But I think something along the lines of “Billy Madison” would be more appropriate.
She needs a do-over.
She needs to go back to school and matriculate through each grade again so she can find the point at which her emotional intelligence got jacked and fix it — I’m guessing by her word inflections and her desperate need for acceptance that this was the eighth grade.
Because what was wrong with her last night?
I’m asking this seriously.
It was as if her agent gave her the wrong information about “Southern Charm” and instead told her she’s playing the part of Miss Cringe in a reality show called “Oh My God, Y’all! It’s Thomas Ravenel. How’s My Giggle?”
All night long she embodied the spirit of Ramona Singer’s runway game.
You know in Ramona’s head she was like “I’m really impressing these fashion show attendees with my sultry doe eyes.”
But then she checked the footage the next day and had no choice but to ask herself “No really. How many people did I murder last night?”
Even the way Landon asked for a cocktail at Patricia Altschul’s sounded desperate and inauthentic.
I’m truly hoping there’s no Bravo in North Korea. Can you imagine Kim Jong Un walking around his cardboard palace today cracking himself up by saying “Bourbon? Slushie?” over and over again until it dawns on him “Attack the imperialists with nerve gas? No! Laughing gas. No! Nervous laughing gas! Yasssssss, Freddy Mercury.”
(That’s “Yasssss, queen.” Things get lost in translation over there.)
Here are the moments Miss Cringe Clavenel put our national security at further risk last night, but first let me just say, her hair was on-point at that quail dinner. It was perfection. As was her outfit. Everything else, though? What’s sign language for “giant train just hit car but subtly”?:
— As Patricia was extolling the virtues of a Thomas Ravenel love connection, Landon had the worried, nodding look of someone whose doctor just explained the next three to six months to her. We know you love thinking you’re hard-to-get for Thomas so don’t pretend his felonious inability to be around guns is a tumor.
— Something tells me that whole act of repeatedly pointing out the “adorable” Austen-Chelt-sea relationship to Shep was her way of being like “YOU SHOULD HAVE LOVED ME BACK.”
— Of course she would suggest eating those hors d’oeuvres before everyone gets there. Of course she would.
— Only Landon could turn concern for a friend’s wandering liver enzyme into a tattletale-esque reproach: “You’re not supposed to be drinking that!” and “I don’t think we need roadies …” Um, he does. Because your voice …
— She really did write down Austen’s deeply profound statement about the process of becoming a diamond: “Hard enough and long enough …” Do you even hear yourself, girl?
— “IS IT AMAZING?” is the least sincere question I’ve ever heard someone ask about quail wrapped in bacon. Even less sincere than “Is that bird going to be OK?”
— Her face when Thomas was talking about Kathryn … bottle that up and you have yourself a new perfume called “We Can’t Both Be the Veronica.”
— My favorite part of the night. Landon in interview: “I’m just keeping my distance from Thomas right now.” Flash to Landon in scene: “I’VE BEEN CALLING YOU!!!!”
Other fun moments from last night’s episode:
— Boys are bitches too! Poor Craig and his misguided trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods. Doesn’t he know all the cool girls shop for their hunting gear at Elmer Fudd’s House of Fancy? It’s one hunting trip, Whitney. I think you can back away from that hideous vest just a little. Although it’s the perfect attire for a man who doesn’t know there are snakes in Georgia.
— Craig almost shot a dog.
— My money was on that happening to Landon, though.
— The Shep Wagon. I was so torn watching him guzzle that whisky and drink that wine. On the one hand I was like “But you ran 1.8 miles from your house to Patricia’s! And that smoothie you told your mom about! And one scoop of vanilla, one scoop of cookies and cream! You were doing so great!” and on the other I was like “Drink up, Trimalchio” because it actually looked like a really fun time at that lodge.
— And mainly because of Cameran’s drunken laugh. She, Shep and Whitney should get more drunken screen time together.
— The “douche in fiduciary” totally watched last night’s episode and was like “Meh. I have Naomie. Whitney and Shep have Whitney and Shep.”
— I like Chelsea a lot. But holy crap. Could she have been “that girl” anymore than she was last night? Like we get it, OK. You like guns and pickup trucks. You’re the hot girl who does boy stuff. (“I can’t wait to pop off some birds!” Except you can’t shoot. So there. Also, we can see that you’re putting on full eye makeup for your “I just woke up in bed” camera appearances. Again I say, so there.)
— Cameran’s case of hunter face. I’m surprised Lilly Pulitzer hasn’t sent her a letter asking her to stop wearing those dresses. “Our frocks are for ladies who go to baby showers, not for women who cut their face with gun scopes.”
— Austen and Chelsea’s romance gives me the same feeling I had when I read “Flowers in the Attic.” They look and act like brother and sister. I could go the rest of my life not seeing them in bed together again and not just because Austen looked like he was doing an impression of a beige sock.
— Kathryn! I almost forgot about her hair. Those pigtails were straight outta Whoville.
— And Patricia’s dog caftan. Hey look, if I had millions of dollars and a lifetime of man-memories, I’d be printing my dog’s face on a caftan and lying around in it like it were totally normal, OK? But, let’s be clear, caftan or no caftan I’d secretly be doing it with my butler because why not …
I know it’s hard to believe, but there have been six other episodes leading up to last night’s major plot advancer. Read recaps of them here.