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Last night on Middle-Eastern Massacre the garter snakes of New York slithered across the Atlantic to Morocco and turned into cobras. They bit and hissed at each other over petty matters, until a brilliant Sybil shamed them all.

Yes, this was the first leg of the ladies' jaunt overseas and it went exactly as planned. Well, it didn't go as planned for them, but it went exactly as planned for us, because they were cackling and scratching at each other as soon as they arrived.

The episode, as last week, started with the dulcet tones of an American speaking a foreign language. "As-salam alaykum. Dar Es-Salam. Habibi. Falafel," It was the Countess of Crackerjacks trying to teach everyone a little bit of Arabic. "Repeat after me. Mekalekahi Mekachiney ho! Mekalekahi Mekachaney ho!" Jill is excited to be on the trip because it reminds her of hanging out with her girlfriends in high school. And while she is in high school, everyone else is in Brooklyn. Well, at least Sonja, Ramona, and Alex, who are joining the ladies the next day.

When they get to their giant palace, they see Brad Pitt standing by the side of the road with his suitcases piled around his feet. "Hello ladies, you're really going to love this house. I hope I didn't clog up any of the drains with my beard hairs." All the girls giggle and clap and then go into the house where there is an army of staff waiting and bowing in unison. Then they broke into a choreographed dance number, churning around with glasses of champagne on trays, hopping over the fountains as they popped to life, and making up the beds to the beat of the music. It was just like the first time that Little Orphan Annie showed up at Daddy Warbucks' house. Then they all assigned rooms. Kelly got the red room, red room. Appropriate.

The next day Sonja, Ramona, and Alex are on a plane to Morocco and when they finally touch down, well, it is just as embarrassing as you would imagine. Ramona looks out over the city and the vast desert just outside and declares the whole expanse "ooky" and "dusty." Sonja is afraid that someone is going to just jump out of the desert and grab her, like she is an android wandering around a desert planet and a Tuscan Raider is going to come out of a sand hole and drag her screaming back to his cave palace.

When they get to the house, the staff, again, is all lined up and they're about to break into their number. The headmistress starts singing, "Be...Our..." "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ramona interjects, waving off the whole affair. "I need someone to help me unpack, I need about 40 hangers, and some hand weights, and I have this corn on my foot that someone really should do something about, and, OH, is their white wine? Is it chilled? What, why are you just standing there? We have a lot of work to do. Chop chop!"

Countess Crackerjacks has other ideas. She calls everyone into the living room for a tea ceremony, but the whole time Ramona just wants to go unpack and Sonja is worried that a Tuscan Raider is lurking outside their riad and is going to pillage her luggage from their minivan. She goes out seven times to make sure her bags are all still there. Well, it wasn't really that. There was a security guard watching the van and he was really sexy in that swarthy, Middle-Eastern way. "What's your name? Muhammad! That is such an exotic name out here. You're so big and strong for guarding our luggage. Do you want to help me take mine back to my room. You know...back to my room!"

After all this hubbub, the Countess lets everyone go unpack so that she and Jill and Cindy and Kelly can have a really weird conversation about pornography. That is really the most unsexy conversation about sex you could ever imagine. It's like Bruce Villanch giving a rimming seminar.

Anyway, Ramona gets the headmistress to help her unpack and she's brought every sexy, leopard-printed outfit and ballgown in her closet. And a whole suitcase of jewelry on stands like at any minute the crew that films "Holy Rollers by Ramona for HSN" is going to show up and expect her to do an infomercial on the spot. The head of the house gives Ramona a look that would wither a brick. I mean, it was just awful.

While this is happening, Cindy goes up to the bedrooms and finds some of her clothes lying on her bed and some of her hangers missing. She goes and accuses Ramona and the other ladies of stealing her hangers. They say they didn't. You can watch the whole exchange above.

The best part is when Cindy walks away and then gets pissed that they're talking shit about her. As Ramona says, of course they are. Cindy is such a stupid Zombie, and it's clear that she hasn't eaten any brains in a long time, because she is getting really dumb. Like at this point she is a functional idiot, shambling and sashaying across the dunes, looking for a mummy to hook up with so they can feast on a host of humans. Doesn't she know what show she is on? This is the Real Housewives, a franchise that is predicated on people talking shit behind other people's backs. In fact, I'm sick of any of the Housewives getting pissed that someone was talking about them behind their backs. That's what they do! It's like if you hire a housekeeper and then scream at her because your sink isn't full of dirty dishes. This is what you signed up for. Get used to it.

So, the hangers are a huge international incident, but Countess CJ gets everyone together for an afternoon of lunch and shopping. But not Ramona, Alex, and Sonja. Alex says that she needs a nap. Girl, if I had to spend five minutes with this crew in a foreign country, I'd need a nap too. Sonja and Ramona say they want to "go for a drive." Well, only Ramona wants to go on a drive. Sonja wants to sit around and watch the gardener prune the hedges while she peeks over her cat-eye sunglasses and swishes her sweet tea around in her glass while watching the sweat trickle down his body in subtle torrents. Instead she and Ramona went to a hotel and got wasted.

When the rest of the crew was in the market, they ran into Brad, Jill Zarin's season one gay. He (says) he lives in Morocco and its his birthday so he's having a big party that all the ladies were invited to. First they have to go home and get the rest of the girls. When they get back, Alex has just woken up from her long winter's nap and the hay that fills her scarecrow body looks totally plumped and refreshed. Ramona and Sonja, on the other hand, are completely sozzled. Like not even a cute, fuzzy buzz. They are sorority-girls-who-just-played-beer-pong-and-are-about-to-make-out wasted. Countess CJ tells them all to convene in the library for a surprise.

Countess brought in the most famous fashion designer in all of Morocco and he's going to make dresses for all of them. The problem is, he doesn't speak any English, so Ramona is trying to talk to him and alter her design and explain exactly what she wants to him in English. Oh man, what a mess. Ramona, again, is a total embarrassment. This guy is not the help, he is an actual professional businessman who is going to do something nice for her and she's making it into a chore. She is not the designer. She is the model, and she gets to wear what he designs. Would she go to the dentist and then try to clean her own teeth? No! She's bring Jill along and Jill would clean her teeth. Ramona gets another look that would melt a skyscraper—just turn the Chrystler Building into a glistening puddle right there on the east side.

At this point, the trip to Morocco is just like a weekend in a Fire Island share house (which is where I am right now, so of course I'm thinking about it). Crackerjacks is like the house mother, trying to make sure that everyone is happy and gets along and doesn't do anything to permanently harm themselves in body or reputation. Jill, Cindy, and Kelly are like the part of the house that just wants to relax and read People by the pool and pick on Kim Kardashians ugly engagement ring. They'll go out for drinks at tea, but after dinner, they want to curl up with a DVD and get some rest so they can get up early for some beach relaxation the next day. Sonja and Ramona are the crazy high-maintenance queens that want to hit every party, drink every drink, do bumps in the bathroom, and wear high heels to the Sip 'N' Twirl, which is all good fun until Dee gets so drunk that she falls off the boardwalk on the way home and lands on one of the rabid deer that is grazing by the roadside and then wakes up at 6 am not knowing quite where she is, where her left shoe went, or just how that condom got in her hair. Alex, well, Alex is like the poor soul they needed to round out the share and none of them particularly like, but tolerate for the harmony of the house. Oh, the group travel dynamic.

So, the girls all travel to Brad's party and they clomp through the souk in their finest evening wear arm in arm like they're doing their best Sex and the City impersonation. They all fight over who gets to be Carrie, except Sonja, who just slurred. "I am definitely Samantha. Who wants to fuck?" When they get to the party, it's at a B&B, not Brad's house. Jill calls him a liar. It's the first time that Jill being mean to someone is kind of cool, but only because Brad is way more awful than Jill.

When they get there, Cindy's ass is all chapped. No, it's not because she is at this huge gathering of people and not one of them will let her eat their brains, it's because of something that happened on the car ride over. Cindy was being all uppity and annoyed by Ramona and Sonja's drunk asses, when Sonja tried to "tell a funny antidote" about Cindy to help cure the tension (we get it, Sonja, an antidote!). She tells the story about how Cindy lured Sonja downtown with the promise of lunch and when she got there Cindy took one bite out of Sonja's head and broke all of the teeth in her zombie head, and had to go to the doctor and never fed Sonja her lunch. Now Cindy claims that she is being "attacked."

OK, I finally figured out the problem with Cindy. She has absolutely no sense of humor. None, not one bit. Apparently when you die a physical death, you also lose your ability to laugh. She just can't laugh about the hangars, she can't laugh about drunk Sonja telling a silly story. She just takes everything so goddamn seriously like every little thing matters so much. She has no sense of perspective at all, and she can't just chuckle at life's little misfortunes. Wasted Sonja was trying to make things better by telling that story and probably told it all fucked up and annoying because she was so deep into the glass, but she had good intentions. But Cindy sees it as an "attack." God, Cindy, do what any sober person stuck in the back of a cab with a boozebag would do and shake your head and hold it in your hands and wait for the whole thing to be over.

Then Brad called them all over to the psychic he hired. Apparently this is the thing to do at gay parties these days, because I just had a crazy psychic at my birthday. Actually, I was inspired by the Housewives, so maybe it's the snake eating its own tail. In fact, the Housewives love a psychic recently, if it's not Alison in Beverly Hills or Mama Elsa in Miami, it's this crazy lady, who was really Bugs Bunny dressed up in his Arab garb trying to fool Elmer Fudd. So, the psychic at my birthday was a total downer and kept telling people awful things about themselves and giving them really negative predictions. This is just what happened at Brad's party! Note: next year hire a clown stripper instead.

Jill goes first and Ashanti (that's what I'm calling the psychic) tells Jill that she has a good heart but talks too much. Ding ding ding! That is Jill to a T. Next Sonja goes and the psychic says that money is not life, that love is life, and the man in her life (which one, Ashanti?) is more important than having money. This girl is good. She tells Kelly that she sees three young girls in her life, so Kelly thinks she's having another baby. No, Kelly, the three girls are your two daughters and you. That makes three. Here, have another jellybean. Then it's Ramona's turn. Oh man, it goes down.

So, Ashanti only speaks French so it's up to Kelly and Crackerjacks to translate for all the women, because they both speak French. The psychic, who has been spot on until that moment, says, "You're thinking about your husband, but there's another woman." Both Kelly and CJ freak out and are like, "Oh no she di'nt!" And then Ramona is all freaked out so CJ gives her an accurate translation. Apparently Cindy has turned Crackerjacks into a stupid zombie, because she does something completely idiotic and gives her an accurate translation. You don't do that! You tell her, "She said 'You're thinking of your husband and he loves you very much.'" You don't tell her that Mario is fucking some chippy up the ass in the ladies' locker room at his country club. That is basically the image they placed in Ramona's head for her to churn around, over and over again in the corner, her mind gummy with denial and pinot grigio.

And then Brad hustled everyone out into the hall, because there was another act. This time it was a snake charmer and he had a band playing music as he and the snake faced each other down, hissing bug eyed stares back and forth between each other. It was just like an episode of the Real Housewives, vipers facing off and baring their teeth for each other, seeing which one would bite first. He even put his tongue right in the cobra's mouth, which is exactly what this trip was, and they all knew it. There was poison everywhere, seeping out of the snakes' mouths, leaving slimy trails across the artisanal tiles. Sonja, of course, thought it was a cum trail and she giggle and wanted to put her finger in it. They all want to put their finger in it, bring the poison right up to the surface so that it can drip off their fangs. That's what they were doing. That's what they've been doing since they got to Morocco, they're all just coiling up for an attack. And now they're ready to attack, their limp bodies hurtling through the air to entangle with each other once again, blinded by their own poison and all dying in one heaping mass together.