“Real Housewives of Atlanta” Ep. 9: Men are from Mars, women are from Atlanta

women are from Atlanta

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  • Nene Leakes: “Why, God, why did Gregg beat me to the punch of this divorce”

How was everyone’s Thanksgiving? Did you eat their body weight in dead fowl, only to feel horrible about your self-image the rest of the weekend? Great! My holiday was wonderful, thanks for asking, but I have a feeling some of our Housewives had less than festive Thanksgivings. Namely, Nene Leakes, whose marriage problems escalated in last night’s episode of “Real Housewives of Atlanta.” You know, it’s amazing that human society has been able to function this long given how terribly males and females communicate together. With such different modes of rationale and emotional reactions, it seems like the universe was predestined to have men versus women. I’m amazed anyone has babies at all. The men on last night’s episode really lost one for the team, and great, just what we need—another entitled prick named Prince Ayden Adonis Parks on the scene.

Dr. Tiy-E Mohammad has become the scourge of my life, and Sheree’s as well. After briefly dating, it finally came out that the “Love Doctor” is no doctor at all—gasp! All my ENT medical professionals and surgeons introduce themselves with nicknames like “Love Doctor” or “Dr. Feel Good.” I have a check-up with Dr. Happy Pills pretty regularly. But Tiy-E’s fraudulent resume finally broke the straw on the camel’s back. In her defense, Sheree tried to have an open mind when dating Tiy-E, as much as she could. When he mentioned he was staying in a Holiday Inn, she held the vomit in her mouth, letting it rot her teeth, instead of spewing all over him. That’s sweet. And when he made a crappy dinner instead of taking her out to a five-star meal, she tried to convince herself it was endearing. But this lying about a doctor thing has got her twisted.

Meeting at local favorite Highland Bakery, she went for it: “You say you’re a ‘doctor,’” Sheree says, to which he quickly comes back with “You say you’re a ‘woman.’” In Tiy-E’s masculine, defensive mind, proving you’re a doctor is as impossible as proving your women. But actually, it’s really easy to tell. See, if you have a vagina (powdered-sugared or not), you’re a woman. And if you have a PhD, you’re a doctor. Easy peezy. Sheree begrudges that “not once” did Tiy-E invite her to breakfast, lunch or dinner since he had been back in town, to which he replied “Why does a man have to feed you to talk to you?” But Tiy-E, wait. Wasn’t your whole spiel to let a man feel like the man, opening ketchup bottles and all? That’s what you probably wrote your whole “PhD thesis” on! So what happened to that theory? Sheree pointed out that Tiy-E is very “tit-for-tat” and that’s exactly right. If I buy you dinner, what are you going to do for me? If I spend $15 on you, you owe me. I hate people like that because they’re so not fun to go out to dinner with, plus they resent you your whole natural life.

Finally, Tiy-E pulled out his “PhD papers,” otherwise known to actual doctors as a diploma, folded up on cheap white printer paper from his pocket, but he wouldn’t show it to Sheree. Finally, after the acerbic break-up was complete, Tiy-E told her “peace and love” with the sleaziest grimace, did a kiss-peace sign (gross!!!) and walked off. You have to hand it Sheree, I would have punched him in the face. Okay, I take it back, men may be from Mars, but Tiy-E is straight up Uranus. Zing!