You’ve got Sext

Kenya takes her stallion booty to Sky Gym to do some of those scarf twirling acrobatic workouts in order to relieve her house hunting stress.  In a masterstroke of nutbaggery, Kenya twirls around, her ass in air, and she says she is no stranger to having her legs in the air while being upside down.  Kandi walks in and Kenya is twirling around over using her favorite catch phrase “I’m gone with the wind”.  Kandi demands she get some new material, STAT. 

Kenya-twirl

Kandi tells her she “fell out of her high heels” and hurt her ankle so, regrettably, she simply cannot twirl.  Kandi is avoiding workouts and on a diet, so she is “get off my lawn” cranky and decides to go Barbara Walters on Kenya’s ass implants over the Apollo texting scandal.  Kenya’s eyes pop out of their sockets and she decides to show her the texts and end this debate.  The most controversial thing Kandi can sniff out is a text from Kenya to Apollo saying “LOL, thanks babe”.  Kandi presses for an answer on whether or not Kenya and Apollo met up in L.A. and Kenya plays the “I don’t recall” card.  Kandi isn’t buyin’ what she’s sellin’, bottom line, both Kenya and Apollo know better and are in the wrong.  Kandi gets upset that Kenya keeps interrupting her and tells her to look in the mirror and take a long hard look at herself.  Where there are smoking weaves…there’s fire.

Porsha visits Dr. Sherri Blake to get a quick therapy sesh.  She’s got a bad case of the sads and she is sporting her straw fedora, which apparently is her choice for therapy wear.  Porsha realizes she was playing a role and thought she could “fake it until you make it” with the marriage.  Dr. Sherri points out that Porsha got pissed because her friends were telling her the truth about the marriage.  Porsha also reveals she didn’t have her name on the deed to the house or the bank accounts.  Sherri points out that she may as well been hired help and Kordell was playing the role of father.  Porsha reveals her father died when she was 17, so that explains the roles.  Basically, the marriage did not come out the way Porsha envisioned and she didn’t want to see reality.  Porsha throws more gay shade and reveals that Kordell did not work on starting a family.  Dr. Sherri points out that Porsha is still wearing her wedding ring, she asks “who is holding on?”  Yes, Porsha, it’s you…strap on your big girl fedora and move on.

Porsha-fedora

Nene drops by Cynthia’s for a post-op visit and wants her to get out of bed and go shopping.  Cynthia is feeling better, her stomach is puffing down, but she isn’t ready to move yet.  Kandi calls while they are chatting and wants to arrange a “cheer up Porsha lunch”, which they reluctantly agree to.  Cynthia’s happy pill kicks in, so she scoots Nene out the door and Nene happily obliges, off to Saks to blow the last of her “Glee” money.

Phaedra is busy with “babies, dead people, and my study group”, but there is plenty of time to meet Kandi for fro-yo and gossip.  Kandi arrives first, and as she ogles the brownie bites, her inner demons start fighting out loud.  She and Phaedra sit down and start gossiping about Kenya, who according to Phaedra, has “whorish tendencies” and knows Kenya and Apollo saw each other at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, but she is “ride or die” for her hubby and insists nothing happened.  Stand by your man, stand by your fro-yo.

We see a nice, short scene with Cynthia talking to her daughter, Noelle.  Noelle has apparently been making out with a boy named Arthur, which is too much for Cynthia’s puffy tummy to take.  Cynthia cautions her to be careful and demands that Noelle keep her abreast (pun intended) of all details, she needs the “blow by blow”.  As I cringe behind a pillow, Cynthia, realizing her faux pas, retracts her statement.  “Maybe that wasn’t the right word!”  Ya’ think???

Operation “cheer up sad Porsha with taquitos ten-quitas” is underway.  Porsha enlightens the ladies about her marriage and how she was like a child in the house.  She bashes Kordell from every possible angle and they all have a good laugh now that Porsha’s delusion has ended.  They all cheer to the “new Porsha”, dance on the table, and fight over who gets wear the Beyoncé wig.

Nene goes to visit Kenya at some seedy extended ghetto stay motel and she screams “where you live, bitch?”  I love when we get glimpses of the old Nene.  Out of everything Nene could have chosen to be appalled over, she is most horrified by the white refrigerator.  Never mind the blood stained carpet and semen-ridden easy chair.

Nene whisks Kenya away from her squalor to look for a new place.  Kenya talks about a new man she has met in Nigeria and how she cannot possibly live in anything under 5,000 square feet.  She and Nene look at a place that is a paltry 4,000 square feet priced at $1,650,000.00.  Kenya is outraged, she can get 15,000 square foot house in Buckhead for that price!  As if she can afford that, puh-leaze.

Finally, Phaedra and Apollo sit down for a one on one “date night” that goes off the rails quickly.  In an odd aside, Phaedra looks at a subpoena she received to serve as a character witness in the landlord/eviction case for Kenya, which is out of sequence since that case has already been shown and concluded.  Bravo, can we get a continuity editor ova here???  Phaedra uses the subpoena as a segue to confront Apollo about the text-gate.  She basically tells him to stop texting her friends and he immediately goes on defense.  Since when is Kenya her friend?  HA!  Apollo is about as slippery as a partially masticated gummy worm and he won’t tell her exactly what was said or what happened between he and Kenya in L.A.  He throws out the same card Kenya played, “I don’t recall”.  After more prodding, he caves like the little bitch that he is and tells Phaedra that he could have hooked up with Kenya if he wanted to, but he didn’t. 

Phaedra-notbuyin

That’s about as reassuring as stepping into a port-a-potty at a hot dog eating contest.  Phaedra tells him she is ready to cut his tongue out with her steak knife.  Now that I’d like to see, then this show would really start cookin’!

Badass

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