The threats made against her thus far this season are nothing compared to those made on camera last season (several of which involved Mack trucks heading directly at her face at full speed), but I still worry about Ariana’s physical wellbeing when Kristen exists in the world. To that end, I am going to give Ariana certificates to classes for kickboxing, sword throwing, and Krav Maga so she can learn to protect herself. Additionally, I am going to throw in a lesson with a former student of mine who is a current gang member who might be able to teach Ariana how to successfully hide a body. (The kid did not learn that skill in my class, but he does now know the difference between a dissolve and a cut on form. Editing always matters.)
I will buy Scheana the factory that produces her mile-long false eyelashes so she never runs out and a session with a therapist who can explain to her both verbally and through charades that her husband – the guy with the addiction issues – probably shouldn’t drink at all regardless of the fact that she feels it’s no fun to be married to someone totally sober. As for Shay, I’m going to buy him some more sessions at that gym so he can learn to grind against the floor with as much expertise as Sandoval.
Speaking of Sandoval, I’m just so thrilled that he hasn’t worn a beanie or wept into a camera in close-up yet this year, so I’m going big for the guy. I will buy him a sprawling house on a mountaintop that’s too steep for Kristen to even crawl up. This home will come equipped with a home gym, a screening room that plays Zoolander on a loop, and an ornate fountain that spews Vanderpump Sangria instead of water. Such a fountain will be befitting for the man I’ve decided to make the official model for the beverage – and yes, I know that he and Schwartz want to get out of modeling and try their hands at business, but let’s face it: neither of these guys can formulate a sentence when they’re under pressure so perhaps the business world is not the right place for them. I hope Sandoval will peacefully come to terms with the fact that he’ll never know nearly enough to be able to pull off a Ponzi scheme and that he’ll spend his languid evenings rocking slowly in the golden hammock in his backyard while Kristen – refusing to give up – tries to scale the terrain using just her nails and her knuckles for support.
I’m giving Lala nothing. I prefer to believe that she doesn’t exist.
The thing is, even the sh*tty gifts – like permanent exile wrapped in a shiny bow – that I’d hand some of these people are nothing compared to the things they give one another. They bequeath grief, deceit, fickleness, and fury to their friends and alleged loved ones with the same air of casualness that I tried (and failed) to master when I handed the booger-eater a tissue. And none of them even break a sweat.
This episode begins with the lovely dinner Lisa threw for charity ending and some conflict beginning because the guys are planning to leave for a trip to Vegas. Neither Ariana nor Katie wants their men to go gallivanting off to the Land of Sin with a chaperone like Jax – and if I know anything about men, it’s that they love to be told that they’re not allowed to do something. Katie believes that Schwartz lost his Vegas privileges when he hooked up with some stranger last time he was there (the girl’s got a point) and Ariana refuses to allow anyone to leave Los Angeles proper within sixty hours of the day of her birth.
In a tree-lined corner of the restaurant, Peter and Jax approach Lisa to ask about getting some time off for their No Girls (That We’ve Promised Anything To) Vacation. Lisa reacts like she doesn’t know this request is coming, an act I can’t quite buy being that she’s an executive producer of this show and probably has this trip already written on a calendar somewhere because it does require some planning to send a camera crew off to Nevada. In any event, she pretends to be flabbergasted by why they’d want to go after all the messes they’ve gotten into in Vegas in the past, like that one time Jax got a random girl pregnant while he was in a supposedly committed relationship. She also tells them they’re idiots to bring Shay with them seeing that he’s married and maybe not in the best position to run wild in a setting that beckons bad behavior. Still, she lets them go. The woman is no idiot; she knows what will make good TV. (Oh…another quick note about a change in language. “Good” can now be defined as bland debauchery engaged in by douchebags. I’ll alert Webster’s.)
At the hostess stand, James approaches Lala with a smarmy greeting and the news that neither one of them has yet to be invited to Ariana’s birthday party. Who cares, wonders James. He doesn’t want to go anyway! It’s just gonna be Silverlake hipsters and he hates those f*cking people and none of them even own a tank top or can make music with their phones so he doesn’t need to attend! Lala, however, is not so cool with being left out of festivities thrown by people who are not actually her friends. She’s also not being all that smart here because she’s allowing James to make her feel vulnerable and like he’s the only person in all of SUR who cares about her. I have no doubt: she will come crawling back to him and start nibbling on his scrawny pale forearms by sundown.
I get why Lala is upset that she’s not invited to Ariana’s party because this is a fiesta with gift bags! Unfortunately, tied into the candy bags is a sh*t ton of resentment because Ariana is okay that her boyfriend is heading off to Vegas instead of wanting to be by her side the day after her birthday. Katie’s not thrilled either and Schwartz appears terrified to bring the whole thing up to the woman to whom he has yet to officially propose. Both Katie and Ariana summon up some strength and put the official kibosh on the trip – which means the guys will be leaving bright and early the next morning for Vegas.