I admit it. I have this morbid fascination with the Real Housewives of NY. I can’t stop watching. I can’t help myself. It’s becoming a sickness. Just when I think they can’t possibly be more shallow….they pull another stunt and I am flabbergasted at these non-3 dimensional beings. Simply flabbergasted.
Yes, I watched the season finale last week. Yes this coming week I will watch the reunion because I saw the trailer and watched Jill as she pulled the melodrama out her wazoo and stalked off the stage muttering something about not being able to take this any more.
I don’t know if I can take it any more either, Jill. All of you are social-climbing, status seeking, greedy, self-centered, unbelievably cruel and vicious women — none of whom I would EVER want to be my friend. My friends would never act as you do. Never.
Okay, I’m just a teensy bit jealous of the glamour part – the clothes and the constant champagne flowing – but the catfights are horrific. One minute the gals are having lunch and suddenly they’re all screaming at one another. Get off the air and go do something truly good with your scads of money and quit bitching at one another.
And now Bethenny has her own show starting — she has a baby and a new husband….omg can it get any worse? Will we be subjected to a spin-off of the Countess’s new singing career because, frankly, I would rather suck a diet pepsi through my nose. Although of all the women, I like Alex the best — I think she’s a rather nice lady, a tad naive, who wants to be in the “papers” wearing her pretty clothes and doesn’t have a clue how to handle the sharks she hangs out with.
And yet….I can’t tear myself away from this disaster. What does that say about me?
I am so happy to be a Real Housewife of Ohio – we’re calmer, we don’t mind wearing non-couture clothing, and we don’t spend all our time at swanky restaurants yelling at each other — crap we’re lucky to be able to get a table at the local Cracker Barrel. And eating that comfort starchy food forces you to be happy as you are too overloaded on carbs to be angry with anyone.
But I am compelled to watch them disintegrate little by little and wonder how low they will stoop and how long I will be fascinated by this strange creature known as a Real Housewife of NY. I find very little real there at all…then again I know like any other quasi-reality show, much of it is staged and the producers show you what they want you to see… still…if that’s any indication of life in NY, I’m staying here in the Midwest. sigh…