In 2006, Nikki had been married to a man, and appeared on Oprah. The topic was married women who later realized they were gay. Nikki’s father called her to say he happened upon the show, saw a beautiful woman talking about her epiphany, and thought, "What a waste of a woman." Then, he realized it was his daughter. They haven’t spoken since.
Well, that’s crazy. If Rose’s dad can support his daughter – which he does – you other parents have no excuse.
Whitney has a sister, Alexis.
Sure, let’s trot out everyone’s siblings. In lieu of plot, we can compare who looks more like whom, and wonder who has a different daddy.
Whitney has Alexis’s name tattooed on her arm, as she’s the only woman in Whitney’s life that isn’t going anywhere any time soon. They chat about their dad over dinner. Whitney is mad at her womanizing pops because he had an extramarital affair, and when she was younger, flirted with all the moms instead of paying attention to her soccer games. Dear lord, it’s genetic.
Speaking of genetics, Natalie’s family is doing what it can to swell the ranks of the gay population: three out of five kids are gay. Awesome. In that house, you have to come out as straight. Over mani-pedi’s, Natalie and her equally soft-spoken, equally gay sister, Leslie, plan a dinner with themselves, their mom and Rose, so mom can meet her future douche-in-law.
The only one not prattling on and on about their families is Mikey, the workaholic. God only knows where Raquel has been, but Mikey is in New York with her assistant, Shanna to introduce some LA designers to the local fashion editors, who don’t know from bedazzling and always think black is the new black.
On the first day of the two-day press event, no one shows up to Mikey’s party. The LA designers mill around their booths, picking imaginary lint off their wares, as the publicist calls around to see if anyone is coming. The crickets do not reflect well on Mikey. Granted, she didn’t book the no-show appointments, but it’s her name and her ass on the line. Mikey’s solution is to start passing out champagne.
If that doesn’t distract the bored, disappointed designers, she can always make shadow puppets with her penis.
Tracy arranges brunch with Aimee, to smooth over the other night. Tracy learns their mother has been doing a little Stamie recon with Aimee, and not her. "I’m a little bit bummed she didn’t ask me, but goes and talks to you about it," Tracy tells Aimee. Tracy’s mom is no dope. When you want the idyllic version, you ask the girlfriend. When you want the truth, you ask the by-stander.
Jill and Nikki go to Malibu to scout an estate as a potential wedding site. Upon entering the manicured grounds, walking through the lavish home, and soaking in the expansive ocean view, Nikki promptly has a tourgasm.
True to her instinct-free roots, Jill wants more time to consider, mull and compare. It’s a little known fact that Jill needed five weeks, three references and a pie chart to say "yes" to Nikki’s marriage proposal.
Nikki reveals she was diagnosed with anxiety when she was in college. Her father also has it, but unlike him, she refused to let it run her life. She muscled through and came out braver, stronger and able to leap tall budgets with a single check with many zeros. Jill’s job is to keep Nikki’s Louboutin-clad feet on the ground. Good luck.
After seven hours of waiting for Godot’s editors, Mikey and the designers pack it in. To unwind, Mikey goes to a "tranny club." One patron tells the camera he wishes he were a lesbian because they’re nurturing, there’s no cattiness, and "it would be so much easier." Easier than what? This hat?
Mikey bursts through the curtain partitions, struts in as if she’s chafing in three different places, whips off her leather jacket like it’s on fire, and proceeds to Drink. Her. Face. Off.
Someone loves New York. A little too much.