|My Secret Shame
||[May. 5th, 2008|06:19 pm]
International Bon Vivant and Raconteur
I have an unhealthy fascination -- nay, some might say addiction -- to The Real Housewives of New York City. Damn you, Bravo! I can no longer claim to not watch reality shows!
There isn't enough therapy in the world for these women's children. Especially not "The Countess" LuAnn's kids, who look absolutely crushed every time we see them. Both, I suspect, will grow up to be serial killers.
Ramona is a monster. She frightens me.
Alex lives in my neighborhood, but I don't think I've ever seen her or her husband on the street.
Jill I sort of like, but even though she's got a sense of humor she's still an overly privileged socialite at heart. The kind who walks out of exclusive fashion shows because she's seated in the second row instead of the first. Interestingly, she happens to live in the building right next to the one I lived in from 1981-1984. (And, amazingly, her sister lives in Westport, Connecticut, where I lives from 1972-1981. It's like everyone in that family is following me around!)
Bethenny is the only one I can stand, because she is the only one who is even remotely normal, despite being plastic-surgery fake from head to toe, and even despite trying to pressure a guy she's only been dating for a few weeks to marry her. But she's funny and at least slightly more down to earth than the others. Unlike, say, Luann, she doesn't talk to "the help" like they're children.
The reunion show was particularly a train wreck. It really came out how much they all hate each other. Ramona stormed out at one point, and Alex came off looking like she has Asperger's.
None of them are actually housewives, technically. They all have careers, but more tellingly, none of them spends enough time at home, either with their children or taking care of the house, to be called housewives.
Oh God, someone please help me.