Part Three of our adventure to the bog hell that is Washington D.C. brought us to a vineyard, to a fancy dinner, to the antechambers of hotels, to the Dupont Circle metro stop, and to Paris, France. Woo-Hoo?

Shall we start again with an American history lesson? Come on, drink it down like medicine, like Cavlin Coolidge's Patented Fix-You-Up Tonic & Remedy Salve, a product that essentially won him the election. It's important to know about your Founding Uncles. Because two of the H'wives went to Paris last night, perhaps this is a good time to discuss the history of American foreign policy. Here are some Quick Facts™ that you can toss out at parties if you so please.

  • In the late summer of 1912 the US officially declared a truce with the people of Belgium, ending the bloodiest period of warfare the nation had seen since the Civil Unpleasantries of the 1860s.
  • America's official sister nation is Chilean Burma, though they have not spoken nor seen each other since the League of Nations Reunion in 1922.
  • Obviously America's animosity towards France began with the accidental tarring and feathering of Shirley Temple at the Parisian premiere of Curly Top in 1935, but did you know that tensions had already been mounting, due to the uncovering of a French plot to smuggle America's greatest natural resource, Jerry Lewis, out of the country as an infant in 1927? Quick Fact™!
  • America's closest ally is Dutch Australia. Our least reliable ally is the tiny and frequently hostile island nation of Nantucket.
  • The international community's favorite US president was Grover Cleveland. Its least favorite president was Grover Cleveland, the second time.
  • The 50 stars on America's flag represent the 50 nations from which people are allowed to emigrate to the United States. Sorry, Honduras.
  • Did you know that the French word for America is "Canada"?
  • If the United States had to marry one foreign nation, it would marry Sweden, for obvious reasons.
  • If you dig a hole in the United States and just keep on digging forever, you won't eventually get to China. You'll actually find yourself in the guest bedroom of a small cottage in the English Lake District. This method of transport was employed by fearsome warrior chieftain Queen Elizabeth, who needed to escape back to the UK after her armies were defeated in the Battle of Bethesda during the Revolutionary War.

So now you have a sense of how the US, and its capital Washington D.C., deal with the rest of the world.* Let's see how these particular ladies choose to do it.

The show is really starting to sour, because I'm starting to strongly dislike even Stacie and her delightful husband, Rudiger. Stacie is just so lame! They went to a wine party at their friends' wine farm and were talking about wine, sort of. You see their friends are the only African American vineyard owners on the East Coast. Which, sure, that's great. There should be more, probably! If that's what African American people want. No one's forcing vineyards on anyone here. If people want a vineyard, fine, take a vineyard. You don't want a vineyard, hey it's a free country. Just means more vineyards for everyone else. Either way, Stacie's friends are the only African American vineyard owners on the East Coast, so that's something, and Stacie was really really eager to point out that Barack Obama, our president, had bottles from this vineyard served at some function or other. "And that's hot," Stacie said, because she is so sad and obsessed with Obama. Oh it's so sad. Do you think she has the Bravo publicist try to call the White House every day to see if Michelle is watching the show? "No, no, just call again. I don't know, maybe they didn't know when it was on. Do you think she watches? Do you think she makes him watch with her? What do you think? That would be hot." It's a little lonely, and I think it probably makes poor Rudiger feel a little inadequate. How do you compete with the leader of the free world? By wearing turtleneck sweaters? Well, yes, that's a really, really good start, but there needs to be more. Perhaps a trip to Paris to see your famous brother? That could work!

This is what Rudiger had planned, because his brother is apparently a famous singer in Paris, France, a place made of pigeons and cloudy wishes. So he and Stacie were going to go for sure, but little did they know that they would have companyyyyy. As Stacie and Rudiger and their two friends strolled the vineyards and drank Obama Wine, a beautiful white limousine pulled up and out stepped Michaele and Toepick. Yes! Aren't they so delightful, in their rented white limousines? Always off to a wedding in 1996, apparently. Stacie doesn't yet see what trundling disasters these two festering demons are, so she was actually kind of happy to see them. Earlier she'd been telling us that "In D.C. you have to be into politics," so she and Rudiger and Michaele and Toothpick all went for a stroll among the grapes (leaving the vineyard owners behind, I guess?). "So..." Stacie said, launching into her in-depth, Beltway insider conversation. "What do you think of Barack Obama?" Hahahahha. Oh, sure, that old politics topic. "What do you think of the current president?" "What a nuanced question." "Thank you. Now tell me, what are your thoughts on politics?" Stacie is like a one-woman Politico! Do you get the impression that Stacie mayyyybe didn't concern herself too much with politics until her Dream Date was elected? "So... what do you think of Barack Obama?" Hahaha. That is the best thing that's happened on the show so far. "Tell me, while we walk casually through this vineyard, what are your thoughts on America?"

Obviously, Michaele and GoreTex didn't really pick up on the silliness of this whole thing, so they started saying what they thought about Barack Obama. Aflac was pretty happy about some really specific policy thing that was obviously just a single talking point he'd memorized for all the fabulous dinner parties he sneaks into. Michaele decided to go the patented Real Housewives of D.C racial awkwardness route, saying things about coming together and difference and unity and harmony and it was so awkward that Stacie's eyes rolled back in her head and she went into some sort of dream fugue state, a place she goes to frequently, where she lives in a Caligulan fuck-hut with Barack Obama and Rudiger is her trusty be-turtlenecked manservant. It's not a bad place to go. But seriously Michaele and every other white lady (besides Lynda, I guess) on this show: Have you ever spoken to a person of a different race before? I mean it is insane how dumb they act about this. Look, I've got my prejudices same as anyone else (it'll be a cold day in July before I let any of my daughters marry a Spaniard — especially a Catalonian!) but Jimminy Christmas, I don't make an embarrassing sputtering mess of myself every time I talk to someone whose skinsuit is a different shade. Michaele and Mary and Cat: Stacie is just a lady, and Rudiger is just a man in a turtleneck sweater. That's all. They're just people. You don't have to make some grand Racial Statement every time you talk to Stacie and Rudiger, because they are just people who want to talk to you as if you are normal people too. You are not, but they're pretending. Fehh. It's so embarrassing.

Anyway, someone mentioned something about Paris and Michaele was all "Oohhhh Parrrrris" in her smoky cigarette voice and Tangiers was all "Ah yes, Paris! Ah yes." like the fucking dickknob he is. And they said they might go too. With three days notice. Oohhh flashy! Just toss that nonexistent money around, you feral donkeys. Stacie and Rudiger bulged their eyes, surely thinking that there was no way they would actually come to Paris. O ho ho, Strudiger (like it?). How wrong you were.

Before everyone zoomed of to Gaywadsville, they had to go be gaywads in the vineyard tasting room. The vintners were there pouring delicious Virginia-brand wine and everyone was taking HUGE HORKING GULPS of it, and Obelix was all "Oohh, yes, I detect floral notes of some tannins. It has a beautiful finish in the beginning, and is that a merlot bouquet I'm getting?" and everyone around him fell over dead because he's the biggest cheesefart in the entire world.

Speaking of corpses, Lynda did something that no one cares about, because she's boring. She was having some sort of modeling fashion show at the Neiman Marcus, y'know, because that's what big modeling agents in Washington D.C. do, they stand around department stores and knowingly criticize the walking style of Chesapeake-area models, the most professional models in the world, outside of New York, LA, Miami, Paris, London, Tokyo, Sydney, Toronto, Wichita, Durban, Pyongyang, and Baltimore. That's time well spent, everyone. Lynda prattled on to us about how she's doing this for charity, which is all well and good, but you know what makes charity seem a fuck of lot less charitable? Bringing camera crews with you so all of America can see how wonderful you are while doing charity. Charity: You're doing it wrong! And that was mostly it for Lynda. What a snooze she is. Bring back Ebong!

What else happened? Oh, people found out secrets! Mary was having her hairs done for some sort of event and she was attended to by a "Celebrity Stylist" and a "Celebrity Colorist". Ha ha ha, what? Judging by this show Washington D.C. is populated solely by sea hags and old gay men who like to touch hair. That's it. No one else lives there. When Michelle Obama was getting a tour of the city when she first moved she was like "Oh, driver, can you stop there, let's get some lunch there." And the driver was like "Oh, no, m'am, can't stop the car here, this neighborhood is controlled by sea hags, and they'll eat your skin if you're not careful." "Oh." A few minutes later they're in a new neighborhood (D.C. is huge!) and Michelle is like "OK, how about that place, do you like falafel?" and the driver shakes his head again and says "Sorry, Mrs. Obama, we shouldn't stop here either, unless you want a bunch of old gay men to scurry out of the shadows and touch your hair." "That doesn't sound so bad, pull over." "All right, it's your hair funeral." That's just how D.C. is. No one else lives there.

So anyway, Mary was in a hotel room getting ready for some sort of party and her old gay friends were doing her old gay hair and she was telling them an old gay story. See, earlier in the episode she had a meeting or something with Cheetara, an old gay man who likes to touch hair, and he told her that his friend Charlotte ("You know Charlotte, she does all my PR and booking" — Ohhhh "all" of it? She does all of it?? That's amazing, because there must be SO MUCH to do, when you are Cheetara who lives in Washington D.C., just soooo much PR to handle when you touch hair in the 27th largest city in the country) got a phone call the night of his birthday from Michaele and Tic-Tac's lawyer saying that he'd need a signed document saying that the couple wasn't required to pay for anything or they "wouldn't walk through the doors." Hahahaha. I am laughing so much at this show! Hahahah. A signed letter from Cheetara saying "You don't have to pay for my birthday party." Hahaha. These people are so stupid. Every single one of them. "We won't walk through the doors." Hahaha. Michaele and Tabernacle were supposed to be HOSTING the party and, as Mary wisely informed us, "In D.C., when you say you're hosting a party, that means you pay for it." OH IS THAT SO, Mary?? Is that how it works in D.C.. That's fascinating, because in the rest of the country we host parties all the time and then run away when the guests arrive and then our butlers set the house on fire and everyone dies, and that's considered customary. But in courtly D.C. society, no no, that is not how it works. In D.C. the hosts pay for the party. Thank you Mary! You can crawl back into the garbage again now that you've taught us this important D.C. etiquette lesson. Class dismissed.

So anyway, obviously everyone was SCANDALIZED by this hilarious, sad news. Mary told the two old gay men touching her hair in the hotel room (just a normal Tuesday) and one of them was wonderful and told a story about how at the party Teflon was walking around saying "Are you enjoying yourself? Good, because I paid a lot of money for this party." Hahahaha. 1) Everyone go home. 2) Why would you walk around a party saying you paid a lot for it even when you HAD paid for it, let alone why would you say that if you HADN'T paid for it. TikTok is apparently the kind of man who not only brags about how much money he is spending, he also brags about how much money he is not spending. Congratulations. You know what also deserves a congratulations? That this whole issue had to do with a grown man's birthday party. That was a big plotline on Real Housewives of D.C., a grown man with Lauren Hutton hair upset about his birthday party. He, Cheetara, the grown man, kept saying "My birthday party." And, no. You are not allowed to say "My birthday party" with an upset tone after the age of 12 or 13, I do not think. "My birthday party" — A grown man, 2010

Mary liked the story and liked talking about Michaele and Tagalog so she kept talking about them when other people had arrived. Lynda the Lizard scuttled down from the ceiling and sat there licking her eyeballs, saying she wouldn't DARE sit next to Michaele at the big fancy dinner they were going to. Stacie was there and she was shocked! She had no idea that people didn't like the two horrid goat beasts that wear human clothes and ride around in a rented white '95 limousine. No idea at all. Why, she'd just come back from Paris with them and they'd had a lovely time, strolling the Parisian streets, especially the "Shamps Ehleesay", and then rocking out at Rudiger's brother's (Rudiger's brudiger's?) rap concert. Oh it was quite a rap concert! Michaele swung her hay hair around the place and showed off her winning perpetual flesh-robot smile, and Sarlaac actually did some freakdancing. Yeah he had one arm up like he'd seen in a rap video once and he proceeded to rap dance like that for a while, just this boastful steamed dumpling of a man, rippling and pale, at the Paris rap concert. It was very evident why the music was popular in France, because it involved like a full jazz band and was sort of a sun-splashed Sunday afternoon version of rap. "Oui, let's drink the wine! Everybody let's drink the wine! Oui oui!" is how it went, and the super cool French people just bopped along to it. And I agree with them, let's drink the wine. Oui oui.

But yeah, Stacie had had a lovely time with them, so it was shocking that all these other woman were now being so mean about the couple. But oh well, camera time is camera time, so sat there and didn't get involved, an old gay man pawing at her hair, wishing that it was Barack, and that after he was done touching her hair, he would lay her down on a dark wood bed, Caribbean winds blowing across their bodies, and he would whisper in her ear and say "So, tell me, what do you think about me?"

Then it was time for the fabulous dinner party! The theme of the dinner party was The Best People In Washington D.C., but it was also a birthday party for someone else, or a celebration for someone? I don't know, I couldn't tell. Mary garbled a toast to someone, maybe it was to the Celebrity Stylist? It was to some old gay man, is the point. That's all that matters. The Best People In Washington D.C. party was funny because its very existence implies that these people are not the best people in Washington D.C. Are they the worst? Well, no. But they are close! Either way, it's good that they were all contained in one place for the evening, giving the rest of the city a night off to go do whatever people there do at night in peace.

You know who was there? Cat. Cat had a dumb episode. She had to finish an important book that she was writing, so she was really stressed about that. It's called Chicken Soup for the Horrible Person's Lack of a Soul and it's going to be very good. Plus her husband had just gotten back from a photo trip and then had to go on another one right away and it was so stressful for Cat, she said as she lounged in a chair, drawling. She was mad at her husband, and he was mad at her, so they fought. But don't worry, they made up! See, Cat needed a fun photo for her book cover, and rather than hire one of Lynda's Ladies to do the modeling for her, Cat decided that she would do it herself. So she hired a photographer that wasn't her husband and they took her to the public library or somewhere and took photos of her holding shopping bags. "Smile!" they said, but Cat didn't. "Laugh!" they said, but Cat didn't. "Come on, you're good at pretend laughing," the photographer said. Hahaha. That's a fucking depressing thing to hear about yourself, I bet. "You're so good at pretending to be happy!" "Thanks... [gunshot]" So Cat wasn't happy. I guess she wasn't feeling this "shopping" and "human mirth" business. She wanted her husband there to take some real photos and then, wouldn't you know it!, there he was, curly hair bouncing joyously. Cat's face cracked into a smile and he whisked her off to take photos.

Where did he want to take photos? At a Metro stop entrance. "I think you look best when you're standing in front of a huge black hole in the ground." "Thanks... [gunshot]" So Cat posed and her husband said "C'mon give it to me, give it to me," and it was whatever it was. Cat's dumb. The whole thing was dumb. And she was dumb at the party. She was talking to Stacie and another lady, who was black, and she said something to Stace about how she was Diana Ross or whatever and the other lady was like "Ohh hear that Stacie, you can be the token black girl in the group!" and this gravely offended Cat. So she stormed out of the restaurant, feather boa trailing after her, and then Cheetara came bounding out to console her. "Are you upset about my birthday party?" he asked her, "Because I am too..." But Cat told him no, it wasn't that. It was that black people KEEP thinking she's racist. It's so weird that every time she is around black people, they call her racist. Isn't that weird? Clearly it has nothing to do with her, so what could it be? Cheetara calmed her down and touched her hair and hugged her and Cat said, making a funny joke "Don't touch me, you're gay and colored!" COLORED. Hahaha. You're deported, Cat.

Back inside Turmeric was doing normal fancy dinner party things, like talking about his wife's weight. You know how good husbands do that at dinner parties. "Yeah, ol' Barb here gained a lot of weight a few years ago, but then she lost it, isn't that right sweetie?" That's just what good husbands do these days. Lynda was skittering across a puddle when she heard this and she shook her head and said "He's trying to tell us that he's worried about her weight," which I think wasn't right. I think he was just telling a story about his wife's weight because that's the kind of person he is. Meanwhile Michaele sat there and couldn't figure out what to do. On the one hand, her husband was talking about her weight at a dinner party in front of TV cameras. On the other, the TV cameras were focused on her for the moment. Such a dilemma! Oh well, she eventually decided, she'd let Timon yammer on in his doughy way and she'd just sit there and enjoy the attention. Good choice, Michaele. You are the patron saint of good choices.

I think that's it. Oh, there was a scene with Mary and her daughter where her daughter was trying to be edgy and issuey and was like "They talked to us about sexting in school" and it was stupid, because a) They talk about sexting in school now? The world is beyond doomed. And b) Mary was like "I've heard of sex texting, but never sexting." Oh Mary. Who the fuck has ever heard the phrase "sex texting"? I've never heard that, because everyone's been calling it "sexting" for years. Has Mary been listening to dubbed Russian news or something? "In Americas, all of the teenagering has been down with the sex texting." Sex texting.

That's basically this show, isn't it? "Oh, I've never heard of that thing that everyone has heard of. But I've heard of this different, sort of similar, but still really peculiar thing. I'm going to do things in such a way that is almost recognizable as normal human behavior, but it isn't quite." They're all just sex texting forever, sex texting with each other, touching people's hair, being old sea hags, drinking stinking Virginia Wine, dreaming of Barack, being stupid lizard ladies with meaningless jobs, riding around in white limousines. They've never heard of sexting, and they never will.

OK, that's it.

*I know these have nothing to do with the show at all, but I need to do something with these recaps that I find fun, or else I will go crazy. Please indulge me.