Whitney is pissed. She hasn’t been this pissed since she someone ran up to her and gushed, “I loved you in Predator!”
Whitney waves her cigarette around, and screams, “You lied!” as if that’s never happened before. Claire and Francine watch from a few feet away, craning to hear every word. Who doesn’t love other people’s drama? It’s like theater in the round.
While Sara starts to wonder what leaving the show will mean to her fantastic hair styling “career,” trouble is brewing with our other Haute mess, Romi and Kelsey. They’re both completely hammered. Romi has just leaned over Kelsey to make out with Rachel.
Get ready. Kelsey is about to have an emotion.
She comes out of her coma, grabs Romi’s tiny head with both hands and slurs, “Do you want a threesome?” Wait. Is this one of those loaded questions like “Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”
A friend intervenes and reminds Kelsey this is not new Romi behavior. This is who your girlfriend is. Don’t act surprised, and don’t bother getting mad. Sara interrupts them and tells Kelsey she has to take Romi home now because “she’s wasted.”
Kelsey’s sh-t-faced too, but she dutifully staggers over to Romi and drags her out.
Kelsey decides that now would be a good time to tell her something, even though Romi can’t even stand up anymore, and they’re both totally incoherent.
Kelsey: Honestly? We’re. Tomorrow. We’re everything our relationship.
Romi: Oh yeah?
Kelsey: Yeah, we are.
Romi: Oh, tomorrow we think everything.
Kelsey: Yeah. When your f-cking sobe… Yeah.
Kelsey: You’re just f-cking made out with her.
Romi: I was not making out with her. I was drunk and wasted. I’m not…
Romi stops mid-sentence. She suddenly remembers she wants to be across the street for no reason. Kelsey chases after her. They agree they need to get a cab. As they stumble past that other Mecca of gay drama, The Abbey, and disappear off into the night, Romi slurs, “You always want to make everything so bad.”
Thanks for visiting Haute. See you next week.
Classy as all get out, Claire sniffs she was raised better than these girls. She would never be drunk and having public, screaming fights in bars. Claire prefers in-home douchery and Skypes “I love you, I miss you” with Vivian, as Francine is forced to listen from the kitchen.
Oh, honey. No. Don’t mess with the Gaysians.
The morning after, Romi claims she doesn’t remember making out with Rachel. She tells Kelsey, “I don’t like Rachel that way!” as if its randomness somehow makes it excusable. Ya know, s—t happens. What can you do except apologize, move on, and hope no one put anything on Facebook?
Romi removes two pounds of makeup from her face, and starts to rethink her entertainment choices.
Listen, not every LA lesbian spends the morning trying to remember the night before. Some of us are home, shopping for sperm.
Cori and Kacy have given up trying to find a loving teaspoon among their friends and are now perusing the internet.
Cori learns these places ask questions she hadn’t thought of. Questions like medical history, education, family background. All Cori cared about until now was, “How long do you need and would you like a magazine?”