Watching “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” is starting to feel like someone you don’t particularly like forcing you to look at photos from their latest family vacation to someplace very expensive you’d never want to visit yourself. With Kenya too busy with her breast biopsies to stir up drama this week, the job was somehow left to Porsha, which is sort of like leaving the keys to a Porsche to an eight-year-old. As Kenya said, the girl is as dumb as rocks, and for once, Kenya wasn’t wrong.
Porsha seemingly has a pretty old school relationship with her husband Kordell, if old school means your husband treats you like a small, brain-damaged Shih Tzu. “Kordell loves to dress me! I’m his Barbie doll!” Porsha squeaks. Yeah, I’m actually expecting him to stick her in a dog sweater and swat her with a newspaper for peeing on the floor. Kordell loves to hear himself talk, and whenever Porsha talks about having a conflict with anyone (Cynthia, Kenya, her reflection, lint), he orders her to make her critic check that or sit back or some sportsy-sounding nonsense that implies he’s not really listening to what she’s saying and really just wants her to shut up and deal with her own problems. Porsha, eyes wide and doll-like, nods frantically, fearing a swat with the newspaper.
Anyway, Porsha plans an extravagant 40th birthday party for Kordell, which means she hires a party planner to do all the work and, like, thinking. I’m not quite sure why Cynthia can’t hire a party planner for her stupid, creepy pageant, but she wants free labor from Porsha, which is kind of like hoping your dog will speak French if you ask him to often enough.
Cynthia starts things off on the wrong foot by letting her Bailey Boys (which keeps making me think of the “The Boys from Brazil” for some reason, which isn’t a great connection to make) bully Porsha, as they’re HUGELY insulted she didn’t let them come over to her house. Her reason? She can’t have strangers over to her house when Kordell isn’t there to protect her. I’m not sure why this is a rule; is it that Kordell thinks she’s going to be robbed, seduced, attacked, or forced to eat baked goods until she gains five pounds and no longer fits his Barbie qualifications? Or all of the above? I don’t care, really, and I don’t see why the Bailey Boys should, either. It’s not like option B was to meet outside on the curb next to a dumpster and a homeless guy named Toothless McGee.
Later, Porsha lets Kordell fire her up with sports malapropisms that are starting to take on a Fat Albert quality — Get her flackin flick back! Flim on the flammin jam! — to confront Cynthia, and Cynthia fires her before she can do more than blink. Porsha, who exhausted all of her black woman insults on Kenya (You ashy! Huh, huh! You ashy!), doesn’t quite know what to say or do. She’s hurt! But Cynthia’s so nice! I don’t know what to… squirrel!
So, at Kordell’s birthday party, Kordell takes it upon himself to talk to Cynthia, who seems utterly bored by this entire tempest in a teensy teapot. Of course, no one including Cynthia can make any sense of what Kordell is saying. (“You two disgust me! You’re my favorite people! Flimmin on the flammin flick flack!”), so there really isn’t an argument or a conversation and eventually Kordell nods, confident he’s handled the problem. I guess when your wife is only slightly smarter than human hair, you only have to be as smart as, say, a comb or a rutabaga to feel like a rock star.
In other news, Kenya gets three breast biopsies and sniffles for the camera (I’m sure she feels this is her Katie Couric televised colonoscopy moment, but I somehow doubt her weeping and quivering in fear is going to make anyone eagerly line up for their annual mammogram), and she’s fine. I guess we’re all supposed to be moved to feel sympathetic, but I think we’d have to care about Kenya first for that to happen.
Kandi is going to cut a gospel record with Marvin Sapp, NeNe can’t get cell phone reception in the Hollywood Hills, Porsha’s waistline is small in “comportion” to her hips (actually, I think a brain-damaged Shih Tzu may be smarter than Porsha, really), and Phaedra thinks Kenya wore Victoria’s Secret coupon panties with her Fake-dra outfit.
Yes, a whole lotta drama in this episode. Not.
The only moment that was actually passably funny was watching Porsha try to soothe her niece Jadynn by shaking her wildly like a tiny, screaming martini and almost dropping her on her head. Porsha can’t wait to have twins, but I think Porsha may want to learn a little more about children first, such as the factoid that they’re not made out of rubber and do not, in fact, bounce.
It’s a bad day in Atlanta when you can’t wait for Kenya to get back on her feet, and you just wish Porsha would get off hers and take a nap when the camera crew comes to visit. It couldn’t be any more boring than she already is.
Do you think Porsha deserved to be fired? What do you think of Porsha and Kordell’s relationship? Will you buy Kandi’s gospel record?