Film & TV

Real Housewives of Miami, Episode 6: Larsa Calls the Witch, a Bitch

Last night's 90 minute season finale of the Real Housewives of Miami begins with a glimpse of Elsa's fabulous purple socks which temporarily blinds us with their utter awesomeness. Then we move into a scene where Cristy claims that Adrianna is an attention whore when Adrianna takes the attention away from Cristy at Larsa's shopping party. Alexia pushes her son to become a model; Adrianna has her greasy haired fiancé, Frederic, take pictures of her crotch on a boat; and Larsa calls Elsa a bitch.

But before we venture any deeper into this magical Miami jungle of energy, silly hats, and emotional immaturity, let's talk next week's reunion...on Watch What Happens Live!


The ladies of the 305 don't get a proper housewife two-part reunion

special in a banquet hall, an aquarium, or in a slaughter house in

Hialeah? You're telling us that that all of these ladies' combined

sizzle is going to have to be contained within the tiny crevices of the Watch What Happens Live!

clubhouse? How's a bitch supposed to scrap in that kind of a squeeze?

There's barely enough room to push Andy Cohen! Can a table even be

flipped if so desired? A half hour reunion in that small clubhouse is about as low grade as back alley plastic surgery.

Speaking of which, Marysol and the 99 and a half year-old Elsa (rocking those exquisite aforementioned purple socks) talk babies in our opening scene. Elsa says she's too old to roll around with grandchildren and Marysol doesn't have time for that kind of noise. She doesn't even have time to go grocery shopping or cook for her husband! Which might explain why Marysol decides to disguise an infomercial for her husband Philippe's prepared meal start-up business as a cooking class/luncheon for her and the girls.

Yup, you read that right, girlfriend had the gull to invite her castmates over to watch her husband take frozen meals he's trying to hawk, dump them in pots of boiling water, and pass off the whole experience as a cooking class. Thank Botox that Elsa showed up to this shindig and that Larsa is a self-absorbed bitch practical and knows the world is round or something or we would've been tempted, through random bouts of narcolepsy, to order a set of Ginsu knives.

And basically the drama between Elsa and Larsa goes down like this:

Larsa: Psychics are dumb! I bet if I went to a psychic without a manicure they'd tell me that I was too uncute to get married and that I was going to be really educated instead...I'm bored. How can I amuse myself? Oh, hey! Are you Marysol's mom, the psychic?

Elsa: Jes, nice to meet jew.

Larsa: So, read my future. Like, now.

Elsa: Maybe anotherRRrrrrRrRrrrrrr time.

Larsa: No, you old bat [snap, snap] now! Pronto! andale, andale, arriba, arriba, or, like whatever you Mexicans say.

Elsa: Cubans.

Larsa: Whatevs.

Elsa: You're a spoiled, self-important, shallow, entitled manipulative, shit talking, passive aggressive asshole emotionally immature.

Larsa: How many times have you been married?

Elsa: Four times.

Larsa: I've only been married once, I win. Go suck on some tarot cards, witch!

Then Larsa continues to talk smack until we reach the odd, and oddly suiting, conclusion of this season: Lea getting revenge Lea-style (AKA nonsensically). Since Lea felt she was exposed to so many awkward meals with these women, she decides to invite all the gals out for a white glove and silly hat lunch at an exotic locale.

Fast forward through a complainy limo drive and the girls end up at Paradise Farms, in heels, outside melting under Miami's horrendous summer heat, surrounded by mosquitoes, and watching Michelle Bernstein, in a random-ass-random cameo, make the culinary equivalent of blue balls with a bowl full flowers passed off as a salad.

All the girls agree that the lunch sucked as we as an audience agreed that this season sucked. No wonder they're having the reunion in the clubhouse. Fingers crossed Elsa shows up to the reunion. And flips a bitch...or a table.

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Elyse Wanshel
Contact: Elyse Wanshel