Yolanda is at Mohamed’s house to thank him for hosting David Foster’s daughter’s wedding. Weird, I know. Later on, she and David will study for her test to become an American citizen.
Yolanda: Lisa planned a party on the same day as the wedding. I don’t think that was very nice.
Mohamed: Yolanda, let it go. Lisa has better things to do than pick lemons and paint hearts. Besides, I hate when you trash talk Lisa. I’ve always regretted that I didn’t marry her before Ken did.
Yolanda: What are you trying to say – that I don’t have anything in my life but doing cleanses?
Yolanda: You’re always sticking up for her. Now, while I’m here, I need to use your house again for Gigi’s going away party.
Mohamed: Fine, now why don’t you have something to eat.
Yolanda: No, just a cup of tea for me – maybe I’ll just snort a tiny bit of a croissant.
Back at the Foster’s, David is quizzing Yolanda on all things American.
David: Who wrote the Declaration of Independence?
Yolanda: Josh Groban.
Yolanda: Stevie Wonder?
David: No dear, one more try.
Yolanda: Oh, how silly of me. Of course you did, my love, my baby, my king.
David: Nice try, but wrong again. It was Thomas Jefferson.
Yolanda: He must be a genius. We should invite him over for dinner. Do you think he’d like the Canadian Tenors?
Yolanda did become a citizen, after bribing the officials with baskets of lemons and a recipe for her cleanse.
Carlton is helping her husband plan a party to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Gebbia’s family business, Stock Cross. They’ve made a ton of fucking money, ya know. The guests arrive, but Mauricio didn’t show up, since Carlton uninvited Kyle.
Calrton to Lisa: I want to apologize for what happened at Ken’s birthday party.
Lisa: Oh dahling, it did get a little out of control, but this is Bravo. Everyone is out of their bloody minds.
Calrton: Kyle called me an anti-Semite and that’s just like living through the apartheid in South Africa.
Lisa: What in the bloody hell are you talking about?
Calrton. I lived in South Africa. I know what it’s like to have black friends. Have you seen Hotel Rwanda? Bloody awful, I tell you. That was when I decided to become a Wiccan and surround myself with light and positive energy and stripper poles.
Lisa: I still don’t see the connection.
Carlton: Well, the truth is that Kyle is going to ruin our business. We’re going to lose a ton of fucking money from our Jewish investors.
Lisa: I doubt that. I should think that they’d be more concerned with your fetishes and stripper poles or, even worse, that you played any part in the business. Now that bit of news should send them running to Bernie Madoff.
Calrton: Can’t you see I’m really upset? Look, I’m crying – real tears. Kyle labeled me. She’s a systematic labeler.
Lisa: Isn’t that a label?
Carlton: Et tu, Lisa? I mean, really. Are you fucking kidding me?
On the other side of the room, Kim and Brandi are talking about Lisa.
Kim: Lisa has always been mean to me. I think she likes to be flippancy.
Brandi: Now that I shink abow it, sheesh been mean to me too.
Kim: Why are you talking like that?
Bransi: Like thish? I shwallowed shumpthin and my tongue and throw shwelled up. I shink I may choke to deash.
Kim: You’ll get used to it. I’ve felt that way since the ’80s.
Brandi and Kyle meet up to pretend to exercise. They decide that sitting on a bench is a good way to start. Of course, their conversation turns to Lisa.
Kyle: I love your hat.
Brandi: Thanksh, ish lined with tin foil.
Kyle: Okay, I’ll bite. Why is it lined with tin foil?
Brandi: Cuz Lisha puts shings in my head.
Kyle: You mean thoughts?
Brandi: Yep thatsh it – shthousth. I’m not ushed to them and they shcare me.
Kyle: Oh, I understand. She does that to me all the time. I never thought about using tin foil though. I just figured that if I used enough Pantene products, nothing could permeate my brain.
Brandi: Lisha ushed to call me every day to tell me to wake up, and feed my kids, take them to school and shtuff like that. We even goshipped about you and Adrienne. Now she wants no part of me. She even likesh you better than me. How could anyone like you more than me?
Kyle: Good point. Most of the time I can barely stand myself.
Brandi: You know, I Googled that Fisher person and I shink Lisha may try to kill ush.
Kyle: You Googled Bobby Fischer and now you think Lisa is going to kill us?
Brandi: No shilly. Amy Fisher. She shot her boyfriends’ wife and I’m afraid Lisa may do the shame.
Kyle: Wrong Fisher, Brandi. You didn’t even spell it right.
Brandi: What the fuck, Kyle! You know I can’t shpell. Have you read my tweetsh or blogsh or my booksh?
Kyle: Check mate. So what are we going to do about Lisa?
Brandi: Take the bitch down. Theresh shafety in numbers. And don’t shay chesh mate. Friends aren’t a chech game. Girlfriendsh don’t cheat on you, until they do, then you shtart rumors and go to the tabloids with ’em. By the way, did you hear what she did to Cedric? She had him exiled and he’sh locked up in a Gulag shumwear near the Sochi Olympics. (#SochiProblems)
Kyle: That wouldn’t surprise me with Lisa. Well Mauricio and I don’t hold grudges. We forgive and forget. Lisa says things even she doesn’t believe. I can’t wait to get to Puerto Rico.
Brandi: Gee, I wish I could be as nishe as you and Moreesheeo. You alwaysh have your friendsh back. But, you know, Lisa shtill puts all kinsh of shtuff in my head and then I jush shay it out loud. That’s how the whole mesh with Adrienne and Paul shtarted. I can’t keep my fucking truth canon under control. No secrestsh shafe with me.
Kyle: Oh yeah, that’s Lisa. She feeds us information and we run around town blabbing it. Adrienne was right about her all along. By the way, why are you talking like that? You sound like a drunken idiot.
Brandi: Drunken idiot ashide, shumthin’ got in my mouth and now my throw and tongue are shwolled up. I may die. Jush put a shtraight jacket on me now. I’m sho over it. (Some jokes just write themselves)