“…I am not here to judge others but to give grace on situations, relationships and know that through my relationship with God it has allowed me to be who I am,” begins Brandi. “Who am I? I am a free spirit that is very light hearted and loves life to the fullest.”
In a desperate attempt to make us appreciate her cleverness, the Real Housewives Of New York star bragged of her blog, “I slay like Beyonce! Who is your THN? #rhony” (Let’s hope that was sarcasm, cause um…. otherwise someone put batshit crazy in Carole’s lemonade.) Inviting viewers to name “‘The Housewife Narcissist’ in each city and win a prize!” resulted in Carole re-tweeting a list which included NeNe Leakes!
Bethenny told us over and over again how cool her party was supposed to be – hot dogs! s’mores! Moscow Mules! Skinnygirl coffee cups! Yet, there for the grace of ungainliness go John, Dorinda Medley‘s boyfriend, a fetid protrusion who dropped a big old stink over the party, thus ruining it for The Big B. Her poor friend Carole Radziwill was equally besieged – the ghost of Countesses Past trailing her through the party seeking absolution? Resolution? Nah – actually a casually polite conversation.
It was a crisp, cool day and that something in the air was pervasive. I don’t think it was the smell of wienies roasting, but that was happening too (metaphor alert!). Pre-party, Dorinda gave John a Cliffs Notes course on etiquette and ran through How To Apologize flashcards to prepare him for seeing Bethenny, but there is no turning back time there. Some stains just simply will not budge – John apparently being one of them!
Carole and Jules had a ‘bonding moment’ over being the two skinniest girls in the room at Dorinda Medley’s bra party, but Carole isn’t buying Jules’ claims that she comes by her thinness naturally! Carole is confused about Jules defense being that she gets her period every day.
“Huh?” wonders Carole. “It’s kind of like hearing a friend you suspect drinks too much say, ‘What? I don’t drink too much, I never even black out.’ Ummm, okay.”
Here’s what the women of Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills don’t get: We do want a fabulous story – even if it means running over the “dead bodies” of dull Housewives filled with overly-inflated hubrises. IfLisa Vanderpump wants to be the metaphorical “Dexter” of Bravo, then by all means, do. Especially if it means I, as a viewer, get more exposure to diamonds and mini horses, than I do IV fluids and arguments about nothing. This show is supposed to be about glamour, which is why I don’t mind Kyle Richards wearing a ballgown to her BBQ and having it catered by a team of gourmet George Foreman Grill experts. We can get paper plates, hot dogs, and beer in our own backyards!
Eileen Davidson may label it “manipulative” (a word she has uttered so many times I swear someone at Merriam-Webster is paying her to make it a ‘thing’. Or maybe she just learned it and is over-eager to just drop it like it’s hot. It’s not.), but what Eileen fails to comprehend is what the viewers crave and expect from a show ostensibly about the lives of the uber-rich. This is not Unsolved Mysteries – we don’t care about ‘finding the truth’ or uncovering facts. We want glitter and we want it NOW!
Shemust have been tranquilized, nervous because of the Russian accent, the hotness – something, because Brandi was uncannily well-behaved and actually allowed her guest to speak. I mean, as much as it’s possible for Brandi!