One time, right after college, something very childish but meaningful happened.
My friends overheard Brooke Sullivan — a cruel and orange Smurf of a girl who allegedly stayed thin by cutting her cocaine with baby laxatives and whose name isn’t actually Brooke Sullivan because come on — have a prolonged and egregious midnight diarrhea blow-out in the apartment of some guys we all knew.
Sorry. I know. This is graphic. The significant part of this story, though, is not the blow-out, because that stuff happens (although from what I understood at the time, Brooke’s was like prodigy-level orchestral, so brava, Brooke).
The significant part of this story is that afterward Brooke had to open the bathroom door and, in a festering cloud of her own making, walk past the very people she was known to ridicule and regard as lesser beings (ie., my friends).
Never miss a local story.
And because she had no aptitude for self-deprecation or appreciating humor of any sort and no history of being kind or forgiving to others, she couldn’t just say “Oopsy” and giggle it off like a thing between pals. Nope. She had to act as though this very equalizing moment hadn’t just happened to her.
The fact that she knew they knew, though, was karma. It was comeuppance. It was, in some circles, considered justice.
It has taken 20 years, but the glee I felt on the night my friends told me about Brooke’s intestinal humiliation has finally been topped.
THANK YOU, LANDON.
Thank you for the drunken behavior last night and for the verbal diarrhea, that you cannot avoid, that you cannot pretend didn’t happen.
Thank you, “Southern Charm” cast, for showing us that you saw and heard it too, at least for this one episode.
And God bless you costume stores of Charleston because something tells me you’ll be getting a very confusing phone inquiry today.
I know your first reaction will be to ask, largely because of the voice on the other end of the phone, “Why would a rotisserie chicken call me from the sizzle grill and why would it need a disguise?”
I promise you, that’s just Landon. Instead of selling her a mustache and a wig, though, I suggest writing the word “authentic” on a piece of paper and hanging it around her neck because no one will ever recognize her that way.
OK. So last night was like Bitch Christmas, right?
I’m still unwrapping the presents the cast got me.
First, let’s start with the stocking stuffers.
Here is the moment it all went south for Landon:
Cameran to Kathryn, who are now apparently hanging out and giving each other “mom fives”?: Landon wants you to apologize before Key West. She used the word “duty” to describe this fantasy of an apology from you to her.
Kathryn to Cameran: Oh. Interesting. Yeah, I’m not doing that. Also you should know, Landon went to Delta Plantation with Thomas for three days.
Cameran: Delta Plantation! What! They totally did it at that plantation!
Kathryn: Yup. They did it at that plantation, which I’m going to say many more times, because we’re Southerners and we should continue to say “plantation” a lot in this conversation because “plantation” is such a normal word for Northerners to hear without saying “Er what?”
Audience: UGH! Landon sucks. Wait. The timeline on this makes no sense.
It really doesn’t, continuity editors at Bravo.
One, Landon and Thomas’ shocking pineapple-holding Instagram photo from that time places this nauseating non-couple in the London area. Meanwhile, Delta Plantation is like 15 minutes from here. If you want to see “the wing” in which Landon totally wants us to believe she didn’t do it with Thomas because, according to her unspoken logic and apparent lack of learning anything from “Downton Abbey,” people can’t “do it” in wings that they have to themselves, click here.
Two, this issue already came up during last season’s reunion, which Cameran was at … but to be fair, she was probably too distracted by Kathryn’s homemade brothel jewelry to fully absorb this point of contention.
Three, or were there TWO SECRET SEX TRIPS?
Sigh. I can hardly muster the energy to care.
Or rather, I can hardly muster the energy to care after degrading myself during a 30-minute rabbit-hole perusal of Landon’s Instagram page last night to find out, which of course required that I first log out of my own account because Landon has blocked me for some reason (perhaps this reason?).
Sidenote about Landon’s Insta, by the way: This 1,000-plus photo collection of hers comes off as the most genuine thing about her while still seeming to depict the life of a really fun and likable person for whom an online travel/lifestyle magazine would be an inevitabilty.
No need to watch your back, Elisabeth von Thurn und Taxis, but this version of Landon could totally write a monthly jet-setting column for Vogue (and she somehow has way more followers than you).
I’m not kidding, though. Landon seems way cooler if you’re to believe her photo journal. She quotes Hemingway multiple times and wears cute clothes and has kind of great hair and goes to the Soho Club and skiing and even has a couple of pictures of her and Kathryn on there.
And she has friends who don’t seem to hate her the way the rest of Bravo high society does.
What do you think that’s about? Certainly we haven’t pegged her wrong here, right?
Wait. Don’t answer. I need to focus. So much ground to cover. Plus, we know why she’s despised by viewers. Thomas said it best: She is inconsistent and self-serving.
Here are the rest of the gifts I’ve found under my Bitch Christmas tree:
— I’m going to throw Landon a bone AGAIN: She was nervous about seeing Kathryn and that anxiety didn’t mix well with the alcohol. And now I’m taking that bone back because yikes, girl, do some yoga breaths. Ask Some Confidence to sponsor your online magazine because you need free samples, lady.
— Let’s talk about that moment when there weren’t enough chairs for Landon at the table … whoa. I don’t know if you’ve ever had “that” friend before, someone who is on the very edge of getting ousted from the group because her behavior is so abhorrent and time-consuming yet she is still around because no one has talked to her about this yet. I have had this friend. And I have so seen that moment when the drunkie of the group, “that” friend, who is on everyone’s current nerves, can’t find a seat because The People have subconsciously, and with no coordination at all, sent the collective message: “Oh my God. Go home. No one wants you here acting like that right now.” Landon handled the whole thing super maturely too with her lame threat, “I’m going back to the hotel!” Um, yes, please do.
— “And, looking back, that was the moment I SHOULD have gone back to the hotel, you know?” Sorry. Just picturing what Landon is saying to the costume store clerk right now.
— Austen wins the night for two reasons: 1. His adorable exchange with Shep in which he expressed sadness over their discord; and 2. His response to Landon when she asked him if she had wrinkles. “I don’t know, Landon. What do you want me to say?” The weariness in his voice so very clearly said “These are shenanigans. You are not being as cute as you think you are right now. I should go inside. But the producers are telling me to hang right here for a moment so Chelsea and Cameran can talk about this.”
— Speaking of Austen, I continue to accept him as a full castmember of the show and have even found myself looking forward to seeing his friendly cartoon man face. But when Shep brought out his peace offering of “Let’s be fish-shirt brothers,” I was right back to square one. WHICH ONE IS WHICH?
— You know that thing that causes us to hate the thing in others that we hate most in ourselves? Landon, you’ve got a case of the Kathryns. Your co-dependency and that dumb flowy coverup and your blue mascara and your squealing and skipping toward boys need to check themselves into rehab.
— I hope Kathryn designs the ugliest necklace she’s ever designed, using beads shaped like dolphins, and calls it The Landon in response to Landon’s comment about Kathryn not wanting her kids back.
— By the way, when Kathryn ordered that drink “because she’s on vacation,” I seriously wanted to cry. I was like “Nooooo! Your sobriety is what sets you apart from this group of very tired, very drunk people with hair that is very affected by the humidity.”
— “Tell him to shoot it in there three times” is actually the Ravenel family motto. If you look closely under their crest you’ll see these words there, only slightly smaller than “Buy low, sell high, let the Confederate flag still fly.”
— When Landon announced that she had to go blow her nose was she A. confusing it with the phrase “powder my nose”; B. accidentally or on purpose sending coke-felon Thomas Ravenel a signal a la The Manchurian Candidate, hoping he’d follow her to the bathroom; or C. subtly letting everyone know that they had made her cry because there was no chair for her, which means they like Kathryn better?
— OK. The Exchange. No, wait. A few more things.
— Did you notice at dinner how J.D. and Liz kind of looked like a 1940s immigrant couple that just realized they got off the ship at the wrong stop? Their faces were like “Excuse please. Ellis? Island?”
— I keep picturing this: Craig at his sewing machine. The doorbell rings. Naomie coming out of a classroom. A man comes up to her. “Craig Conover?” the man at the door says. “Naomie Olindo?” the man on campus says. “You’ve been served.” Flash to Gizmo talking to a judge ...
— Chelsea might win the season for me because of her perfect Southern accent and affect. Jury is still out. But I’m a little disappointed in her peanut butter jar eating. Not because she was eating the peanut butter (because big deal, talk to me when you’re eating meat sauce out of the jar and sprinkling each bite with Parmesan cheese or pouring Frank’s Hot Sauce into a spoon and chasing it with a tiny bite of blue cheese, or eating ranch dip like it’s soup). It annoyed me because she mentioned it once to Shep, and when he didn’t react, she mentioned it again later. Which means that jar was a mother-Landoning prop, there to help cultivate the image of “I might just be the Cameron Diaz of Charleston.”
— Michael the butler found the hole. As we all watched Whitney and Patricia puzzle over that $32,500 ELEPHANT CLOCK THAT IS SUPPOSEDLY WORTH DOUBLE THAT, every single one of us knew WE KNEW that Michael the butler would be the one to find that hole to put the maharaja’s fan in. And that knowledge made me a little sad for him.
— More marijuana dress drag queen, please. Thanks for nothing, Bravo. Flashes to the actual fun of the night? NO. Make the whole show about Shep’s stomach getting licked and Kathryn twerking and Landon pretending she didn’t just horrify all her friends with her clear and present fakeness at dinner.
— There is too girl code, Landon. And Jen Snowden probably can tell you all about Section 40-6-72, which very clearly states “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. She knows you did the thing. Just shut up.”
— Caption contest! I’m not even kidding. Send me what it should say under this photo of Thomas getting ready to go out on the town. Email me at email@example.com or tweet me at @elizfarrell and I’ll pick the best one. The prize is a free subscription to Trovareco.com, which is the same as saying, there is no prize, just the honor of knowing you’ve created something without your father’s blessing. (Btw, don’t hate me for saying this, but Landon’s site isn’t the worst home ec project I’ve ever seen ... it’s starting to come together ... kind of ...)
— All right. I’m ready. The good news is, a few weeks ago I wrote a movie script called “Landon the Liar” and last night’s dinner in Key West was remarkably similar. See for yourself:
LANDON walks into dining area with WHITNEY, who is holding her hand.
Landon: Oh my God don’t pull me over to Kathryn! What! No! What would I even say? (No, no. Keep pulling me. I’m pretending I don’t want to do this).
Kathryn: Hi, Landon. You thought I was going to yell at you. I’ve instead chosen my smooth, steady post-rehab serial killer voice, which indicates that while I am way less crazy than you’d have people believe, I can dial this up at any given moment.
Landon: I just want you to know this whole time I’ve been like “Let’s get along. I love Kathryn. I have NO ISSUES with her. For instance, I’ve never said ‘She’s a bad mom’ or ‘She’s crazy’ or ‘That druggie needs to go to rehab.’”
Kathryn: Sure. That completely lines up with the episodes of this show that we’re on, which I’ve watched.
Landon: The problem, I think, is that I didn’t graduate from Mom School. So like, I didn’t know ... how to not go on Valentine’s Day trips that weren’t intended for me ... without that Mom School degree ...
Kathryn: Fine. For the record, I totally know you’re talking to me because people like me better than you, but I’m going to save that tidbit for the interview.
Landon: AHMEN. Also I’d like to once more insist that nothing happened on your Valentine’s Day trip that I went on with your child’s father/on-again, off-again volatile relationship mate and also that I didn’t know you two were still together, which I realize is confusing because it seems like I’m saying “I didn’t have sex with him!” while also saying “I did! But I had no idea that would technically be a problem.”
Kathryn: Mmmmm. OK. I think Craig is calling for you.
Craig: Please let me heighten the drama here because the producers can only film so much sewing and fights with Naomie. Landon, you absolutely hate Kathryn. YOU HATE HER.
Landon: (Gasps) Whaaaaaaaaaat.
Danni: I’m going to faint next week. Also, Craig, we hate YOU right now.
Landon: OK. I’m slurring this, Kathryn, but you’ll totally get the gist of what I’m about to say: Women should (garbled). And this is obviously Thomas’ fault. HE USED ME LIKE A WEAPON.
Flash to THOMAS.
Thomas: You died on a Saturday mornin’. And I had you placed here under our elm tree. And I had that house of your father’s bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin’ was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn’t. Little Forrest, he’s doin’ just fine. About to start school again soon.
Flash to bus-shaped GRAVESTONE with the words “Here lies Clavenel. Horses. Architecture. Real Estate. Alcohol face. Orchids from the grocery store. Walks with Charlotte the Dog. Morning-after muu-muus. Our class ...”