Sooooo ... how’d you enjoy that sequel to “Pretty In Pink” last night?
Personally I was disappointed to discover that Andie Walsh had traded her flowered kimono for a boring hot pink number that only a basic “Richie” would wear, but it was nice to see that the producers were able to use the same messy set as they did in 1984.
Good lord! Ashley Borders is living inside the soul of an angsty John Hughes movie ... her clothes, her emotional spasticity, her home decorating skills, her living on the fringe of the popular rich kid crowd (her asking “What about prom?” all the time).
And her marriage! It is truly as if my 30-year-old question “What would have happened had Andie gotten with Ducky in the end?” has finally been answered.
What would have happened? Um, Ducky would have been humiliated on national television for not doing it with his wife. Clearly.
The expression on Ducky’s face (I mean, Dennis’ face, whatever) was so readable when Ashley confronted him about their relationship. It said “Let me get this straight: A voodoo priestess came to release a nervous and trapped spirit in our home ... that caused the fire I rescued our son from ... and then that priestess was like ‘Want some unsolicited advice?’ and you were like ‘Sure! Absolutely!’ So she informs you that I am not your soulmate (because a line on your hand told her this), and then you serve me spicy broccoli and sit me down in front of a camera to let me know that a Ghostbuster thinks I’m not the guy for you? And now you’re crying because my official response to all this is to stay very still like a forest creature in the hopes that you will give up and stomp away with your gun?”
And yet Ashley had the audacity to be like “I don’t think Dennis heard me …
Mmmm ... he heard ya.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this bad for a Bravo spouse before. I’m really digging deep into the archives here. Donn with two N’s? Nope. Paul the yelled-at plastic surgeon? No, no. Joe Giudice? Lol. Just kidding. What a punk that one is. Yeah. I can’t think of a single Bravo-battered spouse. I think Ducky Dennis gets the trophy for The Man Most Exploited in the Name of Gaining Medium Fame for His Wife.
Unless this is all a storyline ruse and he’s in on the take ...
Other trophies for the night:
— Daniel’s bathtub gym. Whoa. Mazel to him and to the tub. Mostly to the tub, though. Is that marble?
— Someone is going to die on Ashley’s staircase. I just shuddered thinking about all those shoes on the stairs. It makes me want to break into her house and set up an organizational solution that would address the needs of the whole family.
— I actually believe in Hannah’s idea for a clothing line. When she said she was looking to start her own label, I was like “Yes. Of course you are. What fresh disaster are we facing?” But then she said “beach coverups that double as an off-the-beach outfit,” and I was all ears. Until the Freaky Fashion Fairy told her the idea sucked. OK. Yes. Hannah did present the Triple-F with what looked like reproductions of the drawings that cave men made on the day “shapes” were invented. But give a girl a chance. Give a girl a cover-up.
— OK so ... I don’t believe that a human would fake a fire for a TV show. But ... I get you, Louis.
— What the heck was that Catherine Does the Beach situation? Are we as the audience supposed to believe that Jersey Shore just rolled up on their own all mic’d and ready to go? “Oooh! Who are these boys?” Catherine says, then touches their muscles. I mean, how do you not know who they are? Didn’t the producers say “Talk to these two so it makes sense later when Ashley accuses you of having monogamy issues?” Well, that’s who they are. I mean, I can only assume. And mainly because this was the second time in one night that the producers seemed to have used a plant to further along a plot line. (The first was that table soulmate lady in the Charleston “Charm” who told Landon and Thomas that they belong together. Yeah right, “that wasn’t planned.”)
— Did Daniel and Louis try to say that Catherine touching those guys’ bodies was sexist? ... actually, they might be right about that. I need to mull that one over for a second.
— Best edit of the night: Ashley tells everyone about her Gullah house cleansing. Cut to an interview with Ashley, “I could tell immediately they weren’t even listening.” Cut to an interview with Happy, “I wasn’t listening. I was too busy rolling my eyes.” Samesies.
— Best point of the night: Ashley was short-shamed and slut-shamed at Happy’s wedding shower by Catherine who is apparently the Samantha of this messed-up “Sex and the City” friend group.
— When Happy’s mother got up and walked away during the “So I’m Still Marrying a Muslim” conversation, I had a revenge fantasy in which Happy grabbed a fishing rod, casted the rod in her mother’s direction and hooked the woman by her Ralph Lauren. In my fantasy, Happy reels her mother back toward the crabs while softly singing all parts of “West Side Story.”
— OK. Why isn’t anyone taking Hurricane Matthew seriously? Ashley’s whole “We watch the storm from the porch and get drunk” version of how Southerners handle natural disasters does explain a lot, but RUNNNNN. Spoiler alert, Southern Charm Savannah: You’re about to lose your power.
— Whaaaaaaat is a “Nurse Injector”? I can figure it out, obviously. But is that really what we’re calling that now? Or is Injector her last name?
Now for the real meal.
— What a fun dinner party! First, let’s talk about the clothes. I think Catherine gets best in show, although I had to wonder if she told everyone that the attire for the night was black and white just so she could stand out in a color. Oh, and I loved her 1980s fur coat homage to Dead Girl No. 7 in “American Psycho.” And I loved loved loved that Daniel schooled Louis when he tried to make fun of Ashley’s chinchilla in the pre-hurricane heat. Um. Catherine did the same thing, you sock maker.
— Speaking of socks, my initial favorite part of the evening was when Daniel reminded Louis to take a picture of the sock twins for Instagram and Louis responded so seriously like, “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.” I felt like Louis, in that moment, realized for the first time that being a sock designer isn’t just a thing to say about yourself. You are never off the clock if you’re a sock designer. Never. Every time someone sits down you better be ready with that camera. Eyes on ankles, Louis. Eyes on ankles.
— How many times did we hear about Angel Kisses? I counted 75 and I still don’t know what that is exactly? A drink? A friendship technique? One of Ashley’s soulmate ghosts?
— Whaaaaaaat is Seafood Southern Delight? I assume it’s served in Jello. Is there mayonnaise in it? Is it from Paula Deen?
— “Why should people trust you?” is a GREAT question to ask the fake minister plenipotentiary of artistic endeavors for the Bahamas when he announces that his next career move involves investments and the media.
— Quote of the night: “Nelson may or may not believe in alternative facts.”
— Who was the congressman that went to Liars Camp with Nelson? I want to know. I have some ideas ...
— And now for the best part of “Pretty In Pink II: We’re Not Ducky”: “You throw bags for Delta” is my new favorite Savannah-specific insult but lord ... it’s so hard to listen to a bunch of rich kids with docks and dresses pick on someone for their menial job. I get that the real issue here isn’t that Ashley works a blue collar job, that it’s more about the group thinking she’s a fake, but I have to agree with her. Why is her Delta job any of their business? And wow, the look of smug satisfaction on Lyle’s face was so James Spader that even James Spader was like “I need to put more lip attitude into my game.”
— Winner of the night: Daniel. I have a feeling it’s always going to be Daniel. What a good guy.
— OK. I’ve mulled it over. Is it sexist of Catherine to grope a man on the beach when guys can’t (or shouldn’t) do the same to women? Nahhhh. I think it falls under the “You can pee standing up” clause. Look it up.