The Real Housewives of Miami Finale: Make-Ups, Break-Ups and a Drag Queen

Well kids, we made it! Our little Real Housewives of Miami made it through an entire second season. Remember season one, when we got six lousy episodes (and they sure were lousy)? This was not that. This was one weepy, crazy, dirty, super-smiley (thanks, Karent), blowjob-innuendo-y, bitchslap-filled dramafest, and sweet baby Jesus, we loved it. We've always loved Miami, of course, but now that that we have Bravo legitimacy, we enjoy it just a tad more. Thank you, Andy Cohen, thank you.

See also:
- Smoking Hot Photos of Elsa Patton Before Real Housewives of Miami
- Last week's Real Housewives of Miami recap

For the finale, we arrive back in Bimini to bad weather. "Bad" is an understatement; the rain has caused their flights to be canceled. Perhaps "baby hurricane" would be more appropriate?

When the sun comes out for a moment, they ladies head down to the healing hole, which is somehow a spa-like escape and not a porn euphemism, so they ladies can rid themselves of their demons. Adriana needs love, Lisa needs a baby, blah blah blah. As they say their deepest darkest thoughts, they throw a flower in the water. We hope those rose buds make it back to Miami, 'cause it seemed doubtful that that positive Polly madness could make it through.

Apparently the wives made it back to the 305, because with the maybe the worst transition ever, we see Adriana back in the states playing piano with her son. Ok girl, we get it: you speak five languages, play the piano, and are a super hot MILF. From there, this show got really lovey dovey -- and quick.

We have Adriana and her fiancé planning their spring nuptials. Then, head over to South Beach where Joanna and her boo are making up over diamonds. But the passion stops there. Next, we met up with Ana finalizing her divorce. Call us an insensitive Sally, but it has been two years since you broke up -- stop the crying already.

Last but not least, we have Mrs. Marysol -- or rather, Ms. Marysol. She and her French baguette decide it's finally time to get that divorce moving. It was all very calm, mature, and ended with a casual cigarette.