This episode was just chock-a-block with cringe-inducing moments of the sort you might experience while watching Toddlers in Tiaras, or a mere on-air promo of Dance Moms. It all started in the SCARY DOLL MUSEUM.
Yes, the Spelling manor included a creepy doll museum to showcase all of Candy’s beloved Madame Alexander dolls. I don’t know how many there were, but when she auctioned them off, she racked up $750K, so I’m guessing it was quite the blinking little army. Some of the dolls fetched prices as high as $18,000, including one that was snapped up for $12,000 by its previous owner who wanted it back because he’d never found a replacement since he’d sold it to Candy some years earlier.
A $12,0000 doll? I pity the rich who can’t think of anything better to do with their money.
Moving on, we are granted tours of Candy’s mammoth storage facility, where most of her furnishings live while she’s slumming it in some kind of Bluth family condo unit. Her future Manor in the Sky is under construction, you see, which gives us a great opportunity to check out some of the treasures in the warehouse. What does she monitor multiple times a day via security cams? Rows upon rows of ugly furniture, a virtual Fancy Plants franchise, and boxes of useless crap.
Now, we all have boxes of useless crap, but don’t you expect a gazillionaire to have good crap? You certainly don’t expect someone who’s entertained presidents and princes to be hoarding BEANIE BABIES. But there she is, taking Beanie Babies and Cabbage Patch dolls down to a strip center to have someone pop them up on eBay. Yee-ikes.
And speaking of Cabbage Patch kids, out of that whole warehouse, Candy pulled out two very special belongings she’s saved to pass along to her children. One was a decoupaged vintage suitcase daughter Tori had crafted herself as a teen, and the other item was a custom Cabbage Patch doll that was modeled after son Randy.
What follows is one of the most awkward pieces of reality television I have seen in a long while.
Even before they roll the footage of this loving presentation via Skype from mother to son, I’m thinking, “What the hell is this thirty-something dude gonna do with a damn Cabbage Patch doll?”
And I’m right, poor Randy Spelling–33 years old at this point–wants to be nice to his mom in front of the cameras, but he’s like, “Oh, riiiiiight. I called it ‘Bob,’ didn’t I?”
“No, it’s supposed to be you! His name is Randy!” Mama Spelling gushes.
Dude couldn’t even remember an eponymous doll, which should clue you in on how much he valued it as a kid, much less 30 years later.
Here’s where Candy holds the doll between herself and her webcam, waving its little Cabbage Patch arm at Human Randy and talking to him in baby talk, as if she’s Chucky the doll.
Human Randy is firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s probably going on in his head:
OMG, I’m never going to hear the end of this.
A doll, Mom? Seriously. Give me Tori’s suitcase and give her the effing doll. I’m begging you.
If you were gonna give me a doll, couldn’t it have been one of the $18,000 ones?
What, you don't want the doll?
Candy’s formerly estranged daughter Tori arrives to collect her Manor booty and it’s very obvious which of the Spelling children is gifted with better acting skills as she fawns over her flea market suitcase. Candy mentions her big doll auction and Tori tosses out a plea for a couple of dolls for her girls, but obviously Mama’s not over their big fight because Tori’s just getting the ‘case. Sorry, Stella! Sorry, Hattie! Grandma holds a gruuuuudge.
Next, we’re treated to a sneak peek of what Candy has planned to wreck decorate her future penthouse: green marble and granite in the kitchen, pink onyx in a bathroom. Can you say stuck in the ’80’s? I give her six months before she slips on that ugly polished floor and breaks a hip. Or maybe she’ll wear those grippy little toed sneakers in her Sky Manse?
But there’s more.
We have a lattice-fest planned for our future mahjong room, complete with raised concrete planters for the many rose bushes we want to haul up there. As if the pink onyx bathroom isn’t Rose Milk-y enough.
Then the unthinkable happens. Candy meets up with former neighbor and illustrious designer Karim Rashid at a dog park, to get the scoop on the remodeling efforts of Petra Ecclestone, the new owner of Spelling’s former Manor. He can’t wait to tell Candy that the 22-year old Formula One heiress, who snatched up The Manor for a cool $85 million ($65 mil less than the much ballyhooed asking price) has ripped out all of the antique mantels and light fixtures and is going modern, painting everything black. Why, he doesn’t understand what in the world would motivate someone to change a single one of Ms. Spelling’s fabulous selections!