Hello followers, sorry for the delay in this RHATL recap. I’ve got this pesky full-time job thingy that really gets in the way of my creative outlets. Anyhoo – I’m back bitches, and ready to have some fun. There’s a lot to unpack here, let’s start with some general RHATL housekeeping:
First and foremost – WHERE ARE THE TAGLINES? The Bravo intern must still be toiling away over his laptop, his asshole sweating like it’s being paid to. We’ll let it slide for this week, but next week we want taglines and they better be on point!
Second – Phaedra Sparks Counselor Parks is no longer. This is for the best – her puffed-up foolishness had grown tiresome on all fronts, and there’s part of me that was starting to think she had that Apollo chasing her with the power drill moment coming to her. But folks… this means THERE IS NO AYDEN. This also contributed to my recap delay, I wept for days and awoke in a ditch covered in Oreo dust.
Okay, now that we have that out of the way… what have these fools been up to? Kandi is focusing on the OLG restaurant, and it’s on and poppin’! Kandi is trying a thick, blocky bang… which oddly works for her. The furtive OLG posse is perched high atop a balcony, staring down in disbelief at the line wrapped around the block. Everyone in the ATL is ready to get into this joint and tear into some fried chicken. Todd’s new tagline is “They sellin’ chicken like Colorado sellin’ marijuana!”
Kandi gives her annual, obligatory speech about how she isn’t going to get bogged down by the haters, she is the self-proclaimed “people’s champ”. She’s mom first, restaurant owner second, and let’s not forget she is a member of this dysfunctional ensemble and starring in her own spin-off show – getting XScape back together, man!
Shifting over to Lake Bailey, Cynthia has finally found her zen through a leaf blower. As she preps her deck for company, she throws some grapes and Laughing Cow on a saucer and pops the Prosecco. Rolls Royce Nene is at the door and she is taken aback by the “acreage” of Lake Bailey. Cynthia finally has money in the bank, which apparently entitles her to celebrate a birthday year. Some folks celebrate a birthday weekend, or a birthday month, but Ms. Cynthia ain’t stoppin’. It’s my birthday year, damn it, and I am throwing another theme party where everyone must dress up as a version of ME! It’s 50 shades of Cynthia, I can hardly wait.
As the two catch up, Cynthia wastes no time in announcing to Nene that arch-rival Kenya, is now married. Cynthia was in the dark, so I spy a rift in the budding BFFL territory. Kenya twirls in, cut the small talk, let the grilling commence! Nene wants receipts for this marriage, but she’ll get nothing and like it. Kenya will only drop a few morsels, she knew said “Baby” for four months, oh and his name, yeah it’s “Baby”. Brilliant, smashing – move along folks, no red flags of a doomed marriage to see here! A simple Google search tells us his name is Marc Daly, and let me just say… by the looks of this wedding photo, these two are going places. When your groom gives you a fist-bump to seal the nuptials, Guuuuuurrrrl… you know it’s built to last!
Nene presses for a name, but Kenya won’t budge, “Baby” it is! So, is this like “Baby Driver”, “Maybe the Dingo ate your Baby”? I just don’t get it. Kenya goes on to reveal that they are going to dump Moore McMansion and find a new house of cards within which to live. Moore McMans. has too many ghosts of hired psychos past and no baseboards. We finally get a glimpse of the ring, but Nene is still not buying what she’s selling. Nene wants a copy of the Marriage License, and quite frankly so does the rest of America.
We see Kenya talking to her father later while she tools around in her Bentley. Listening to her father talk is like watching the DMV sloth from Zootopia. OY VEY… use your words Papa Moore! He has a case of the sads over missing his daughter’s wedding and having to learn about it via Facebook post. She didn’t invite him because she thought her dad would say something to frighten the skittish Baby. Again, no red flags here… all is right in the ATL.
We catch up with our favorite violent, angry ditz, Porsha. She is now dispensing advice via podcast, and apparently, she preps by tearing into a chicken dinner and shooting warm Hennessey. Gettin’ paid to be an idiot! What has this nation come to? Porsha does the podcast with her sister and cousin, they talk to their pretend audience, discussing working with friends. This is a perfect segue for Porsha to announce that she has “locked it down” when it comes to her friends. She tells the girls that Phaedra has been texting, but Lauren warns to keep her distance. We also learn that Porsha and Nene have a big, two-year old, beef sangwich between them. Apparently when Nene gave her some actual sound advice, by way of “Bitch, keep your motherf*ckin’ hands offa people”, Porsha didn’t take that under advisement and Nene is as ruffled as her costumes.
She by Shereé is back, in her resident role of floating, shit-stirring mechanism of destruction. She is also rotating some very confusing wiglettes. We must address the elephant in the room, which is what I have lovingly dubbed the “Fried, Dyed, on the Side, Atomic Blonde” wig. SBS up to some international espionage, are we?
Maybe there’s more to SBS than meets the eye… no, we’ve looked into her eyes, there’s less. #seinfeldreference #seewhatididthere?
SBS drops by Nene’s new boutique – SWAGG. Not to be confused with POSCHE – different state, different HO’s. Anyhoo, SBS is ready to throw shade all over the damn place. She’s playing it close to the vest, all details on her own personal life are on Defcon 4, security lock down. Not much going on here, just Nene peacocking her return to the cast and setting up the shit-storm that will gust through this entire season.
Finally, it’s the big day of Cynthia’s “you know you wanna be me, bitch” themed party. We learn that she and Papa Smurf are now BFFL’s (READ: Exes with benefits in lieu of spousal support checks). Papa ain’t comin’ to this shin-dig however, his wait-staff in Charlotte aren’t going to grope themselves! Malorie and Cynthia’s mom arrive and they’re asking about Peter as if they like him now. What f*cked up parallel universe have we entered into? Guests arrive at the party, Cynthia makes her grand entrance and she’s chosen a really ugly yellow dress because she wants to reflect “love and light”. Insert RHNJ crossover here:
Cynthia probably should have re-thought the gladiator lace up in the back, it’s creating some unruly back stuff in the most unflattering way. But what the hell… she’s 50 BITCH! Cynthia presents a horrifying looking award to Kandi for “the best Cynthia”, which consists of the Coca Cola Can Curlers Cynthia. The party starts to dissipate, some of the guests continue to drink and play “mother*ckin’ walk off”, Malorie almost blows out her cankle, and the team Porsha vs. everyone else alliances begin to take shape.
SBS insists that Porsha talk to everyone and Nene rips into her like a hot chicken drummie. Porsha is upset that Nene said she should be fired from the show, Nene denies using the word “fired”, Porsha demands receipts! ROLL THE EFFIN’ TAPE! Nene is prepared to fight like the experienced big dawg she is. She wants a full audit, produce receipts for the last seven years, then we’ll talk!
Whew… well I don’t know about y’all, but I’m exhausted. Next time – Cynthia tries her hand at Tinder, Kenya is having marital issues already, and Porsha continues to have idiot issues.