RECAP: Real Housewives of Orange County “Swimming With Sharks” [Episode 9]

When we join the ladies of The Real Housewives of Orange County, they are jumping on the ferry, heading to Moorea. Vicki feels barfy, and totters off to the bathroom to dry heave in a toilet, Shannon is still sick, and Meghan’s bedazzled sweatband is still on everyone’s nerves. They arrive in beautiful Moorea, and the gorgeous scenery inspires Vicki to get the party started.  They are greeted by dancers, one of whom exposes his man parts, which gives Tamra a cheap thrill, to kick off the fun.  They ride to their gorgeous luxury water huts, and I am JEALOUS!  The bungalows are lovely, and aside from the screechy, self-absorbed women, it is simply perfect. 

Shannon whines about mosquitos and stomach flab, always the faithful upper of the trip. Tamra wants to skinny-dip on camera, and proceeds to air horn the announcement all over Moorea.  She runs through the house, topless, with her newest buoys not blurred sufficiently, by Bravo.  She looks great for an enhanced granny, and she loves showing off her goods for anyone who isn’t quick enough to clamp their eyes shut in horror.  She leaps into the water, and Meghan is aghast to discover that Tamra is an immodest show-off, clarifying that she indeed has never been an OC viewer. Skinny Meghan loves being a clothed American, and probably looks better in a bikini than out of one, so she stays covered. Bless you, Meghan! 

Cue the Driving Miss Daisy soundtrack, because Shannon is seen next, hobbling around her room, trying to laboriously breathe without collapsing. We learn that she coughs every day, and needs daily nebulizer treatments, as she hacks in her talking head, convincing us all that she is not really just a hypochondriac bundle of nerves.  I have a feeling that Tamra LOVES playing the sexy, foot-loose and fancy-free skinny-dipper to Shannon’s elderly, phlegm choker. Nice editing, Bravo! Heather busts up the fun, citing that Eddie has put her strictly in charge of keeping Tamra from behaving like a wannabe for Girls Gone Wild/Senior Edition. 

Later at dinner, where Meghan continues to rock her passe head jewelry collection, the women complain about the food, and chat about their men getting together in their absence. Vicki shares that Brooks wants to can the chemo, and Shannon continues to boringly rant about her primo doctor connection. 

Vicki surprises Lizzie with a pregnancy test, a room service delivery that surely brought a snicker to whatever wiener flapper got that job. Vicki stands outside the bathroom cheering on the pee sesh, and Lizzie overcomes her stage fright and hits the stick.  Lizzie isn’t pregnant, and appears relieved, and ready to fake wanting to be hammered, 24/7. 

The next morning, we watch the women primp, and learn that a boat excursion is on tap. Shannon emerges as the fifth Golden Girl, raring to take on the day. Sickly Shannon has morphed back into a rockin’ party lush, and everyone is happy. Heather is sporting an extremely strange mesh coverup, and Lizzie has mistaken her french maid lingerie for appropriate beach attire. The women chat about their children, and the difference between the biological and step varieties. 

Meghan wants to have a baby, but not now, because she wants to yap a lot about cocktails, and no ball shaker is delivering a pee stick to her room anyway. She reminds the women that she has Jimmy’s brood to hang out with, and her heart is full of motherly love for his children from all the previous wives. The women encourage her to have her own baby, but Meghan obstinately insists that being a stepmom for two years is practically the same thing as pushing out an infant. Vicki thinks that her attitude shows disrespect to mothers, and Meghan gets teary because no one understands how much a stepmom can love children that belong to whomever.  The women try to show Meghan the light, but she stubbornly refuses to accept their experiential wisdom, and simply chooses to make a fool of herself.

The women continue to pound them back, as they pull up to their glass bottomed boat. The resort sharks perform for the cameras, probably rolling their eyes at each other at more shrieking, tipsy tourists. The guide offers a swim with the critters, and the women partake, with Vicki and Shannon bellowing their heads off. Tamra continues her crude joke shtick, providing the most uninteresting, predictable, and stupidly rehearsed lines of the episode. The excursion looks fabulous, as long as ear plugs are part of the deal! 

On the way back, a tanked Shannon gropes Tamra, which brings a smile to the guide’s face. Hopefully, the trashy display makes up for the raging headache he must have cranking by now. The group stops for pizza, which peeves Shannon, due to to the fact that pizza contains calories that require chewing. David alerts her to a family emergency, and Shannon hears that their daughter injured her foot sneaking out of her first sleepover, to TP a house. The twins are evidently making the most of their over-bearing mother hacking it up in a another country, but little Stella may have let down her basketball team. But have no fear, because the Beador marriage has been blissfully re-invented, and will tackle this vandalism scandal as a victoriously united team. What a relief…and GO Stella!

Vicki, Shannon and Tamra decide not to join the others for dinner, because they want to whoop it up on the resort property. Lizzie, Meghan and Heather arrive at the planned restaurant, as the other group golf carts it to the resort bar. The old lady club is beat, but pounds back shots like twenty-something, hair holding champs. Vicki calls Meghan out for becoming naively emotional over not being the biological mother to her step kids. They all just need to agree that Meghan is just stupidly clueless, will remain such until she has her own baby, and realize that you just can’t teach stupid. 

The two groups gossip about each other, and tea is spilled that Heather is good friends with Jim’s ex-wife, thickening the plot. The old ladies continue to gag down shots, and declare their slobbery love for one another, as they slur and snort, completely alone in the bar. They are clearly the livelier group, and the others join them just in time to to witness Vicki and Tamra stumbling into the pool.  They flail around screeching, and I hate to admit it, but it looks fun, in a puke inducing sort of way. 

The bellowing vacation in Paradise continues next week, and I cannot wait! 

 

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