I’ll get to Shep’s puffy cry for help, Landon’s lame everything, Kathryn’s birthday party outfit and Thomas’ Jeans Pocket of Fertility in a second, but first I have to ask the question we all had tonight: What was Naomie doing to Craig’s toenails and why did she get so angry when he made light of the situation?
I have some guesses.
▪ Gizmo challenged Craig to a Mr. Pretty Claws contest, and Naomie is fixing Craig’s attempts at getting his own nails to retract like a cat’s. She is not happy primarily because of what I just said: Her boyfriend accepted a challenge from a cat.
▪ In his latest business proposition, Craig has invented individual socks for toes (“For the man who has everything, except the ability to cover his ugliest toes while still rocking the barefoot look”). Naomie was simply helping Craig get his feet camera-ready for investors because SHE HAS TO DO EVERYTHING and she was angry because SHE HAS TO DO EVERYTHING.
▪ Naomie lost a bet. The bet was “I’m going to buy a sewing machine and embroider things,” “No, you’re not,” “Want to bet?”
▪ Gizmo all of a sudden stopped licking Craig’s feet on the reg and Craig’s happiness depends more on cat-man intimacy than it does on man-woman-out-of-his-league lasting love, so he asked Naomie to paint tuna juice on his toes.
▪ Or, and OK sure “most likely,” Craig hurt himself running in the New York City marathon. The marathon was on Nov. 6. He posted a photo on Nov. 8 of Naomie and him on the flight home. St. Julien Blah Blah was born on Nov. 9. It’s easy calendar math really. As for Naomie’s anger, well, she also ran that marathon and no one was treating her like a sporty sheikh.
And now the others ...
— Maybe Patricia Altschul shouldn’t have dialed Michael on speakerphone while everyone was singing “Happy Birthday” to a baby, maybe that was gauche, but I get it. Why stand in a park at a sober party when you could be martini-lounging in a pug caftan? She had to have been miserable at that party. Just miserable. I’m surprised Michael didn’t go full-on Fall of Saigon and show up hanging off a helicopter in a water-rescue basket while softly reciting his butler rules for extraction, “When one extracts one’s mistress from an undesirable location, one must never give the impression of shouting over the noise of the helicopter. Instead welcome your mistress aboard the basket as if she were entering her own foyer.”
— “I think I just stepped in goose poop” was Patricia Altschul’s way of saying “This party is full of landmines.” Petting zoo? Um, no. How about full-on regular zoo? That party was like the human version of when a new gorilla gets introduced to the gorilla exhibit. Everyone was watching Kathryn and Thomas like “Are they going to kill each other? Oh please don’t kill each other in front of us. Whoa! Whoa! No mating!” I shouldn’t compare them to gorillas, though. Gorillas are much less awkward at small talk. That was beyond painful. And I’d totally make fun of “card stock,” but I’m pretty sure that was their safe word. It was Kathryn’s way of saying “This is the only topic left that doesn’t lead to me calling you a nasty em-effer at this park party.” Just like “The mother is here” was Thomas’ way of saying “I was raised by a Civil War ghost.”
— That was nice of Austen to let St. Julien borrow one of his blue gingham shirts. Did Craig make the alterations?
— Kathryn brought the class to that park. First, I loved her outfit. It was all I’m Not Going to Cause a Problem at This Party up top with her preppy chambray button-up and tan crew neck sweater and all But I Might on the bottom with her Joan Jett ripped black capri jeans. Jen Snowden was like “Hi!” and then looked down at Kathryn’s pants and was like “I better not.” Second, Jen Snowden. The rumor is that she, like Kathryn, is a Ravenel Baby Mama. If that were true, though, wouldn’t she just stay away from the spotlight? But on the other hand, if that were false, wouldn’t she just stay away from the spotlight?
— My impression of JD and Thomas talking about card stock and joking that it wasn’t on “old treasury paper”: “Lol. Remember when the state of South Carolina elected me as their treasurer and then I was like sniff sniff sniff ‘I love the smell of cocaine’? Remember how I used to be able to write letters on taxpayers’ stationery? But then I couldn’t anymore because I was in prison?” Hmmm. I wonder what kind of things T-Rav traded in exchange for a stack of Crane and Co. while he was at Jesup.
— Naomie: “I don’t know what I’m going to do when Gizmo dies?” Craig’s brain: “I don’t know what you’re going to do but I’m going to fling myself onto Gizmo’s tiny casket and beg the sweet lord to let me be buried with him.”
— If someone hasn’t already started an Instagram for the empty Blizzard (?) cup that is always in the backseat console of Naomie’s Porsche then now is the time. Now is the time.
— I can’t believe I haven’t said this yet, but GIZMO IS SO CUTE. Who takes their cat to go see a new house? Um, people who have cats like Gizmo. He had to check out the investment. Plus he probably didn’t believe Craig went through with it either.
— Raise your hand if you’re not surprised Landon forgot to bring a gift to Jen Snowden’s Sip and See party. God. Every Monday night I read tweets from people who swear they turn off the sound whenever Landon is on the screen. Until tonight, I have believed about zero percent of them just because of the logistics of it, but locating the remote is way less hellish than having to listen to her pretend to grapple with her Thomas decision. “If Jen’s saying I should date him ...” and “I just don’t want to be seen as ‘She’s just after him for his money ...’” Oh please put us out of our misery, Bravo. Stop mic’ing her.
— I cannot believe that both Thomas and Landon, on two separate occasions tonight, brought up the “lady at the restaurant.” NO ONE THINKS THAT WAS REAL, YOU TWO. Stop trying to make “lady at the restaurant” happen. If she thought you fakers were destined to be together it’s because she’s a proponent of incest and thought Landon was the daughter. Real estate, architecture, horses, squinting, awkwardly quoting Shakespeare ... maybe that’s less “things in common” and more “inherited traits.” When Thomas asked Landon “Did any of it ring to true to you?” I swear to you, I inside-voice screamed “WHAT?”
— Landon would prefer orchids next time, Thomas. She’s so super-cool. Lauren Conrad’s lifestyle blog must be shaking in its boots.
— If I didn’t know better, I would be calling up the National Enquirer right now to tell them that Nora Ephron faked her death so she could write for “Southern Charm.” Because OK, Bravo. You mean to tell us, US, the viewers who were over this Landon-Thomas ruse before it even began, that last week Landon was crying about how all she wants is a man who will walk her dog with her because no man has ever done that before and then this week Thomas casually says “Charlotte looks like she needs a walk”? Look us in the eye, Bravo. Look us in the eye.
— I don’t know how Kathryn didn’t put the baby bottle in Thomas’ back pocket and then smack the bottle so it shattered in place.
— Cameran’s love for her husband is sweet. At least we won’t be wondering about the paternity of that “Southern Charm” offspring.
— Also cute was Austen and his puppy love. I know! I can finally tell him and Shep apart AND him and Fred from “Scooby Doo” apart.
— Chelsea’s house is #goals. Also, who has crudite just hanging out in the fridge? Yes, Shep, you DID mess up.
— Poor Shep. Actually, poor Cameran. His bedroom could not have smelled great. When a man falls asleep still wearing his belt there is a 95 percent chance that he’s filled the room with the unpleasant aroma of his beer particle-filled lower intestines. And a 5 percent chance he’s filled it with orchids. Oh my God, Landon! Is Shep your soulmate?
— Could Shep have looked any more disappointed in himself? I know it was hard to tell with his puffy eyes, but pretend for a second he just used Thomas’ undereye cream (we saw you do that, sir, and it does not appear to be working!). Now are you registering Shep’s self-disapproval? Homeboy has to move out of Charleston to get away from the person who is throwing all these frat parties, which is him. He is the person throwing all these frat parties. And in an effort to get away from this person throwing all these frat parties, HIM, he makes an appointment to buy a beach shack but then doesn’t show up to that appointment because of the frat party this person (HIM) threw. When Shep said “I’m not happy. I need help,” I truly believed him. And he didn’t even need the lady at the table next to him to say it for us. Weird.