The ladies first group trip of the season means many things, but most importantly, it means watching them all pack as if they’re limited to space for clothes and shoes when half of them travel on a private plane. Kyle’s up first and she unearths garments from her overstuffed closet that looks like the sale rack at Forever 21 and naturally the rack collapses BECAUSE NOTHING IN KYLE’S LIFE GOES RIGHT. Lil Portia sits 2 feet away blowing on her fresh mani and laughing at her mom. What a little twat monster. Lisa packs one of her 300 pink fedoras while Ken watches. What is it that Ken does? I feel like he’s been following Lisa around this season and it’s time for him to get a hobby other than stroking Giggy and gossiping about Kim Richards. Eileen and Vince bicker when he finds out that one of her dresses/robes/mumus(?) was $500. Considering Vince only scrapes in $600 betting on horses this doesn’t bode well. HOWEVER Vince is wearing a Saratoga Springs tee, REPRESENT. See you this summer Vincey, when you win a couple dollar bets at the track.

Erika doesn’t get to packing right away, because she’s busy making up a bunch of names. She walks around her property with Laia (her executive assistant) who, from what I can tell, gets paid to follow Erika around with a notepad and scribble stuff down. One of her muy importante notes is to call Zona. No seriously, that was a name. Laia and Zona. What a cast of characters. And the biggest character of them all? Mikey—Erika’s resident “Pat the Puss” enthusiast and also professional packer. As a sassy gay friend and choreographer he fulfills his duty of throwing body suits around and shouting that he’s over it. I can’t put my finger on it but I know Mikey from somewhere. Was he in Darryn’s Dance Grooves? I need to get to the bottom of this. Anyway, the messiah that he is suggests a sheer skirt for Erika’s Hamptons trip in case she wants her vag to get some breeze action. Mikey knows what’s up.

Since doing absolutely nothing to pack was exhausting, Erika pops off for lunch with Mr. Girardi so they can talk about how they have two private planes, a small one for ‘Merica and a big one for Europe, because you can’t have just one. And then lookie here, the LAPD Chief strolls in just to say hello and grab some screen time. But actually, he walks up, says hello then walks away. But oh what a segue that provided for Erika to gush about how she knows the Chief of Police. La-di-dah.

If you ever wonder how the other half lives just cruise on over to Philly at the QVC studio for Rinna’s wild times modeling some shearling jackets and chunky sweaters. AND THEY SELL OUT. What, at QVC, sells out? I thought QVC existed solely to give Joel McHale weekly material for The Soup. Anyway, before Rinna could strut her shit and talk about jacket seams, we had to see that she chums with mad clothing designers. For example, a guy named Dennis, who brags about designing all the gowns in Nicky Hilton’s wedding and screams I love you a lot. With a flip of his aviators he’s gone and Isaac Mizrahi appars in his place. The most I know about Isaac is that he used to be in the Target commercials. So I’m not particularly impressed.

And then there’s my precious YoYo, who prepares for her boobalicious surgery in the cutest little blue leather jacket, white pant combo I’ve ever laid eyes on. She poetically describes how fortunate she is to be rich and afford this surgery and losing her monster boobs doesn’t matter at all because health comes first. It was a very poignant speech that was ruined in .2 seconds when David honka-honka’s her soon to be bye-bye rack and talks about how much he’s going to miss it. God, David, YOU PIG.

Then the most hilarious thing on this earth happens when Yolanda’s Dr arrives wearing a loudly patterned top and matching beret/chef hat. She screeches, “Am I a 10, or WHAT?!” JK she didn’t do that but she midas whale have with how ridiculous that outfit was for several hours of surgery. Since we’re on the topic of judging others, can we talk about how jelly I am that Gigi looks that flawless when abruptly woken up with Facetime? I could be camera ready and still look like Queen Woofie on extreme close-up Facetime. Anyway, I take back everything I said last week. I rarely go take backsies but I would rather watch Rinna get her taco waxed than get all up in Yolanda’s implant surgery as it’s happening. If I missed any portion of Yo bleeding out from her chest though, I guess I could just check up on the nurses’ instaG. You know, the professional nurse who had her phone out snapping pics of Yo sliced open on the operating table.

And while Yo loses 20 lbs in leaking boobs, everyone gathers in the Hamptons, but not all at one place. Kyle & Eileen get to the hotel first and can’t sleep—because as much as they want to pretend they’re young and hip, they clearly can’t hang. So no biggie, they just go right ahead and rent a house. AKA Mauricio does all the dirty work and they just trot on over to their new digs for some 11AM shut eye. Obviously Lisa no likey because she is the star this weekend and instead of drooling all over her cover girl life, her friends peaced out. Rinna shows up to the rented house because she can’t stay in a hotel room without scrubbing it down with alcohol wipes like Charlie Sheen recently stayed there. Then they all put on their borderline skankiest white dresses, nips out, and enjoy poolside cocktails with a side of passive aggressive chit chat, to be continued next week of course.