Oh the holidays… here they are! It’s hard to believe another year has passed and with it so much reality TV drama; from legal issues to fallen friendships to failed marriages. But there’s also been babies, and weddings, and spinoffs, and new businesses, and so many new plastic surgery procedures. To celebrate this most wonderful time of the year behold Reality Tea’s rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.
On the First Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: One diamond ring for my wedding spinoff which my network will bestow upon me so long as I amp up the drama, wear an ugly dress, and have the whole thing staged and ready in a week.
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On the Second Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: Two two-faced friends who will throw me under the bus at my wedding for a contract renewal and some camera time; One diamond ring that may or may not be fake.
On the Third Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: A Three million dollar bankruptcy judgement; Two two-faced friends (who sell stories to the tabloids about my bankruptcy spending) and One diamond ring which will be seized by a trustee to satisfy my debts.
Credit: Kena Betancur/Getty Images
On the Fourth Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: Four Cheating allegations from my Made-For-TV mysterious African fiancee who no one has ever met; Three million dollars worth of debt for tacky gold furniture and infertility clinics, Two two-faced friends who insists they’ve never met my man, and One cubic zirconia to replace my pawned diamond ring.
On the Fifth Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: A Five month marriage that quickly ended in a long-drawn out divorce while I was pregnant by another man; Four months being trapped in the same luxury apartment with my soon-to-be-ex-husband; a Three million dollar bankruptcy debt that I’ll ignore until my Two two-faced friends tell the trustee where I hid my One diamond ring, that I had to pawn for Louboutins.
On the Sixth Day Of Christmas my TV sent to me: Six plastic surgery procedures for my revenge makeover which featured botox, new boobs, a nose job, and a chin implant; a Five auto-tuned songs about class and money, neither of which I have; Four tabloids about my husband impregnanting a transexual hooker in Aruba which my supposed friend tried to confront me with on vacation; Three million dollars in legal fees so I can fight my prenup; Two too-faced friends who tell everyone my boobs got paid for by my married sugar daddy; and One diamond-studded Rolls that I leased from a fraudulent dealership.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: A Seven-bedroom mansion, custom-built and decked out in the finest faux marble interior, complete with a beaver breeding gown, multiple fire places, and a closet for my dogs, Eviction and Bounced Check, whom have their couture own clothing line; Six plastic surgeons who gave me too much botox; Five metaphysical zenergist healers who sequined my aura and had a funeral for my dog; Four men I cheated with: Mr. Chocolate, Mr. White Chocolate, Mr. Goodbar, and Mr. Good & Plenty while my hubby was at the strip club spending illegally obtained money; a Three million dollar book deal about my “allegedly” abusive queen of an ex-spouse; Two two-faced friends who are jealous they didn’t get a book deal, and One diamond ring that I’m currently using as bottle opener.
Photo Credit: Peter Kramer/NBC
On the Eighth Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: An Eight-count indictment for fraud, a Seven-bedroom mansion in foreclosure, Six shots of botox, Five failed marriages, Four failed engagements (“prostitution whore!”); Three failed businesses, Two failed friendships, and One cheap-ass wig I never leave home without!
On the Ninth Day Of Christmas my TV sent to me: Nine glasses of wine which got me so naked wasted I caused an epic fight at a dinner party when my two-faced friends staged an intervention about how I’m self-obsessed and my whole life is a lie; an Eight-count indictment I’m pretending I’m not guilty of; a Seven-bedroom mansion currently occupied by the feds; Six plastic surgeons who are suing me for unpaid bills, Five ex-boyfriends exposing my secret stripper past; Four family members promising to take me down to get on TV; Three million dollars in debt that’s accruing interest by the day, Two friends who haven’t spoken to me since our twitter war, and One DUI.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas my TV sent to me: Ten chapters in a tell-all book about all the guys I’ve slept with and my cheating ex-husband; Nine glasses of pinot grigio from the line of wines I currently am hawking; an Eight-count indictment I’ve just pled guilty to; a Seven-figure divorce settlement I still haven’t been awarded; $6,000 that I spent on vaginal rejuvenation and charged to my exes card; Five sex tape offers that I am truly considering; Four guest roles on canceled sitcoms so I can pretend to be an actress; $ Three million dollars I spent on designer clothes I couldn’t afford; Two ex-friends who call me a whore for sexting their husbands; and One empty promise that fame and fortune will be mine.
Photo Credit: Judy Eddy/WENN.com
On the Eleventh Day Of Christmas my TV sent to me: Eleven hours of every day spent on twitter defending myself and spilling secrets about my co-stars; Ten rambling emails I wrote about my life which counts as actually “writing” a book so I can claim I didn’t use a ghostwriter – but my co-star did!; Nine different flavors of the wine, all of which I personally drink by the gallon, Eight scenes filmed for my “leaked” sex tape made with a famous porn star and produced by my momager; Seven angry co-stars who refuse to film with me after the last vacation turned me into a gummy bear guzzling medium who sees the ghosts of Housewives past; Six doctor reports proving that my boobs are as real as my asthma and my phobias; Five months of unpaid child support from my deadbeat dad ex-husband who is now dating my co-star and pretending he has a job; Four ladies in waiting to take my place on reality TV; Three Firkin bags that I had to pawn to settle a lawsuit; Two charity events where I behaved badly; and One prosthetic leg I threw across a restaurant floor to prove a point that I am real.
On the Twelfth Day Of Christmas my TV sent to me: Twelve interns who will run my fantasy businesses of Nigerian hot air balloon camps and Designer Fashion Sharpies; Eleven shedding pomeranians who I’ve trained to tweet for me; Ten angry fans who are demanding a refund from the book I didn’t write; Nine days I spent in rehab which lost me my wine distribution deal; Eight stalkers who spread lies about me to all the blogs; Seven months I’ve been sentenced to prison even though I swear I never broke the law (delusion made me do it and I was wrongly accused); Six reunion props which I used to distract from the truth; Five WWHL sit-downs where I cried about my mistakes; Four friends who’ve sued me; Three million dollars multiplied by two, which is how much I owe in my failed bankruptcy filing as adjusted for fees and interest; Two angry friends who dragged my by my weave across the reunion stage, and One mugshot from the woman who’s responsible for stealing my dignity and scratching my diamond ring, which I decided to wear on my right hand after admitting I purchased it myself because my ex was too broke to finance our fabulous life.
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah Reality Tea Readers! Thanks for making 2014 such a great year, filled with drama, intrigue and a lot of f–king law-breaking reality TV stars.
TELL US – WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS FROM YOUR REALITY TV?
[Photo Credit: Instagram]