Tori and Dean started the episode bickering over the scale of Liam’s 3rd birthday party. Tori planned a thirty-five kid “homegrown” back yard party and rationalized the overblown affair by arguing she’d actually be saving money. In addition to the requisite bouncy castle, there were discussions of elephants, cows, and chickens. Tori and Liam settled on a theme: super hero.
Tori interrupted complaining to Patsy about Dean to ask Liam to get away from the dog bowls. Liam, tells her no and persisted in admiring his reflection in the dog dish while luring Stella into his toddler rebellion.
Like most of the straight men in Tori’s life, Liam totally disrespected her and continued to blatantly disobey her despite her repeated admonitions. Grow a pair with your son too Tori.
Dean put on his spectacles to studiously prepare for his single camera comedy dream role audition while Liam pitched a dick fit at the imaginary grocery store. 
Dean’s solution was to take both carts away and yell at his kids. What the fuck did Stella do? Let Stella have both carts and tell Liam to fuck off.
Always on the hustle, Tori auditioned for a voice over for a mattress commercial. Pas chic Tori, pas chic.
Tori indirectly called Dean fat and lectured him on the importance of keeping in shape for his craft. The conversation ended with her ordering him out for a jog.
Cut to speakerphone and a camera crew on Candy Spelling. Liam invites Candy Gram to his party for Superman cake before requesting a conference with her dog Madison.
Dean took Patsy for a ride. As a result of this episode, she’s going to get a lot of Dykes on Bikes fan mail. Post-ride, Dean attacked Tori over the hummus carrot planters she prepared for Liam’s class. The carrot to hummus ratio was seriously off.
Dean accused Tori of showing off with her intricate sweets and trying too hard to appear “normal.” 
That struck a nerve, and she definitely didn’t want that insecurity offered up to camera. 
She returned the barb with some stank eye before retreating to Patsy. Dean returned later to apologize and blamed his dickery on resentment over Tori not wanting to ride his stupid fucking motorcycle. Get over it douche, what a pussy-hurt little bitch, jeesh.
Liam served up a side order of tantrum with dinner while everyone once again pretended his stalemate with mac-n-cheese was cute.
Tori complained about the paparazzi and said they made her protective of her children. If she’s so fucking protective, why does she exploit them for her reality show?
Liam can’t resist the opportunity to pillage the village.
With all her self-proclaimed party planning prowess, it still didn’t occur to Tori that a three year old would bring an accompanying adult. Thirty-five children + thirty-five adults + ten hangers-on = a fuckload of people. Dean’s right, Tori’s party planning for a three year old is out of control. At that age, three to five kids is plenty. After all, do you remember your third birthday?
Surprise, surprise, Dean didn’t get the part. Hand me a hanky. 
Dean pulled himself together for a visit to the baby animal depot. After selecting some weird looking fancy-ass chickens, Tori put a deposit down on a baby goat. This unrealistic idealization of farm life will literally butt them in the ass when that goat gets a little bigger, Trust. How long before the Hollywood hills coyotes munch those poor defenseless chickens? 
Dean felt sorry for himself as Tori tried to give him a pillow pep talk. After an awkward stab at pity sex, the two tried to get some rest before Liam’s big 0-3.
Super Douche!
Candy brought an afternoon delight. Tori took her straight over to the food table where Candy critically surveyed the scene before the whole party was forced to endure another Jumpits performance. 
The Jumpits lick balls. Get Jenni Pulos from Flipping Out to do a number next time. She killed at Chloe’s birthday.
Liam rounded out his third birfday by finger fucking the cake.
While Nine has a few pretty gowns and sleek convertibles, something is definitely off in the styling. It never quite comes together to create a convincing authentic period feel. There is no reason this movie needed to be redone as a period piece (or redone at all). It takes a particular type of hubris to update a Fellini.
This movie takes a long time to get off the ground, and the midtempo numbers don’t do much to pick up the energy.
Penélope Cruz plays the poor man’s Dita Von Teese. While her singing isn’t bad; she never truly inhabits the role.
While you might expect Fergie to serve one of the best numbers in the film, she growls her way through her song with a really terrible fake Italian accent. The wardrobe and makeup department did her a major disservice aging her at least ten years.
Marion Cotillard didn’t make me gag, but she’s stuck playing the thankless wife. She has a couple of numbers, but none of her songs are catchy. In fact, not a single song in this whole movie is catchy.
Nicole Kidman surfaces totally waxy and immobile playing the movie star. Remember, the neck never lies. When she’s straining to hit the high notes you see every one of those years in her neck proving that freezing your face is an exercise in futility. 
Nine is long and rather boring. It is easy to resent the amount of talent wasted here.
In the age of rampant mid-life crisis infidelity, Guido as played by Daniel Day-Lewis isn’t a particularly sympathetic, sexy, or interesting character as he bed-hops from woman to woman acting out his modern day Oedipus complex.
Fake tittays are whack.
The Countess visited producer Chris Young to record her song Money Can’t Buy You Class, the drag edition. LuAnn sings better than Kim Zolciak, but that ain’t saying much. Last night on Andy Cohen’s after show, LuAnn confessed she landed a record deal and has another single in the works, Chic, C’est la Vie. Merde, C’est la vie is more like it. 
Ramona rounded up Sonja, Kelly, Alex and Bethenny for her pre-vow renewal bachelorette trip to St. John, (not St. Johns Ramona). When the girls arrived, they divvied up room assignments followed by some topside sunbathing and a white table cloth bikini lunch. 
Kelly wears vagina skimming dresses to events in Manhattan but insists on covering up to eat lunch with a few women on yacht? Whatever. She returned from putting on a cover-up and walked in on Ramona comforting Bethenny over the loss of her father. Bethenny joined this trip right after his funeral and desperately tried to contain her emotion in her large red sun hat.
Ramona wanted to discuss the confrontation at Jennifer Gilbert’s last week. Kelly misguidedly attempted to defend Jill, but ended up confirming Jill’s jealousy over being on the wrong side of the velvet rope in Bethenny’s life.
Sonja sat there like a lump while Ramona, Alex, and Bethenny schooled Kelly on the meaning of common American idioms. This lunch served as one of the first opportunities to clear the air among the women and it was fucking refreshing.
Episode highlight: Kelly stymied by the complexity of the glass door which foiled her dramatic exit.
Later on, Bethenny and Alex shared the most genuine moment of the season with a good old fashioned girl laugh at (Kelly’s expense). Take note Bravo, there’s been a shortage of these moments this season.
LuAnn’s date with the Millionaire Matchmaker reject Coerte V.W. Felske (author of illustrious titles like The Millennium Girl and The Shallow Man) gave me agita. When he “laughs” he throws his head back, opens his mouth wide, and makes no sound. 
Fucking creepy yo. LuAnn hurled her cooch at the lubricious tool using tennis as some icky bourgeois double entendre. Countess, you’re slumming.
Back on the SS Pinot Grigio, the ladies sat down to après-dinner cocktails. Kelly felt entitled to comment on Bethenny’s relationship with her father, and in general was fishing for any reason to attack Bethenny. Sloshed and slurred, Ramona encouraged the group to join her on yacht Hooter. This lead to a discush of one-night stands where Kelly sanctimoniously declared she never had one night stands. Ask Jay Lyon about that.
Kelly denigrated Bethenny and Sonja’s moment and expressions of emotion in general. Then she launched into the next round of attacks on Bethenny. 
Kelly declared, ”Nobody cares about you Bethenny. No one. No one cares. You are vindictive and malicious and cunning and deceitful and it’s creepy. That’s why I get creeped out by you.” 
Switching gears, Kelly accused Bethenny of being a cook and not a chef. This is a pretty bold accusation coming from a woman who claims to be a “Columbia graduate” when she actually went to the Columbia University School of General Studies (which is like the adult learning program). If anybody fronts on her credentials, it’s Kelly, was Elle Accessories even in circulation a year? 
After Bethenny called Kelly a moron and the most unintelligent human being with the worst vocabulary, Kelly took a nose dive to the lowest common denominator calling Bethenny a HO BAG! She busted out ho bag, on a fucking pregnant woman, classy. 
Bethenny charged in on Ramona, three sails to the wind, slurring all over Mr. Hooter. Stop leading with the tits Bethenny, you don’t need to feel yourself up every time you wear a strapless dress. 
Bethenny gives f-bomb dropping Ramona the quick and dirty version of the ho bag report before Sonja and Kelly board the boat that tits built.
Ramona hollered at Kelly to simmer the fuck down and stop attacking poor pregnant Bethenny. Ramona wanted to sweat off some of that alcohol stank at the Fat Turtle, so she, Alex, and Bethenny served up some Turtle Time disco bunny fever.
Too tired for Turtle Time, Kelly and Sonja returned to the poop deck where Sonja mounted Kelly as she complained about the lingering stench of cat piss.
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