I’d go back and count them if it made a difference, but I think it’s descriptive enough just to say they’ve already edited about a half dozen cusses outta new Bridezilla contestant Cristal‘s mouth before they even introduce her, her fiance and their dog.
She describes herself as “every mother-in-law’s worst nightmare; I’m a tattooed ccrazy freak.” Corey calls her “the woman I love to death,” noting the ccrazy. They live in Anaheim.
Bridal shower. Two bridesmaids don’t show. She’s fucking pissed. She hides in a room doing shots. She calls one of the miadesmaids. Both of ’em. Fuck it. They’re “stupid sluts” anyway. And she’s got gifts waiting.
“I’m not a normal bride,” she says, locked in with eyes that envision dark things from time to time. “I’m a very … different … unique (nodding quickly) … kind of bride. So, those are the gifts I want. If I don’t see those gifts, I’m not gonna be too happy.”
Instead of a $100 bottle of Cristal, it’s “what the fuck is this?”
“I made it very clear that I am not a typical bride,” she says, gaze watered down now. “If I don’t like the gift, you’re gonna see it on my face. I don’t like the gift.”
She notes that if the stupid sluts don’t show up “I’m gonna cut their throats at the wedding.”
One of ’em texts back. Ain’t having the excuses. Then, this:
Rockwellian, that shot. Almost the perfect place to leave it. Almost.
She’s a bridesmaid. Her name’s Nikki, I think. Nikki* thinks “textes” is the plural of text. Also, she doesn’t like Cristal’s “twenties” look for the wedding.
Something’s going on. In the industry. Possible.
Anyway, she and the mother-in-law-to-be get together, in a huff, to make the centerpieces. Merlot, begrudgingly slugged. MILTB cuts Cristal out of one of the couple’s pictures. So she can have the picture of Corey. Threw the half with Cristal on it away. Put him next to the other kid’s girlfriend. Says it’s probably break-up time. Sa. Dis. Tic.
There’s some beef and Corey may not show up at the wedding. We’ll see.
Davina‘s back. Their re-intro makes it seem as if they’re better than this show. Let’s see where this goes. Ah, she’s having ladies over while she tells Brian he can’t go out because he’s got to do the seating chart. Only he’s going out now. Says he finished the chart. She’s bulldogging him. Fucking just go out, bro!
Oh hell yeah, the brothers who were doing shots last week roll up on that shit. Bachelor party time. Now she’s screaming. Fucking wrong, saying you’ll call off the wedding. Let. Him. Fucking. Go. More bros show up, including the dude with the perm and the ‘stache from last week. Randi. He’s here to party and she’s being a bitch and she should just let Brian do what he wants with his last free night.
So, some dude shows up with his girlfriend and Davina’s all like she’s a stripper, who fucking called the stripper, and she just ain’t buying that she ain’t, and the dude whose girlfriend was taken to be a stripper was all I’m just here to drink, but Davina’s all get the stripper out of my house and when the non-stripper’s gotten out of the house, she turns on her man for not stepping up, but then the non-stripper’s back in the house getting all don’t call me a stripper alright, which just fires Davina up even more to the point that she’s got to be held back, but not really — one of those look like you’re trying to get through when you’re really not — yet this leads to screamtears anyway, before a much-needed commercial break.
He slept on the couch; she has her eyes painted bright purple.
He feels as if an apology is warranted; she feels as if her actions were justified since, whatever, the girl was dressed like a slut.
There’s a cute little moment about who’s going to walk to who to give a kiss. Aw.
Now we’re back to Randi’s hair. “Any means necessary,” she says, imploring her mom to seduce him so she can swoop in and physically cut his hair. Attempt being made. Oh for fuck’s sake she actually does it.
Fucking insane. And she just fuck spikes the football in the form of whatwhat’ing him with scissors in hand. The fuck is that?
Ok, it’s wedding day. Looks like full-on panic mode for Davina. Screaming at Brian on the phone because the Hummer limo ain’t at the door waiting for her et al. Shows up. Gets ’em to the wedding. Demanding.
Fucking Randi’s hair’s all gone, too. Fuckin’ a, man. She should never, ever, evereverever be permitted to live that down, Brian. Seriously.