If Dorit Kemsley were designing a dining room for the women of Real Housewives Of New York it would require padded walls (and floors), plus a vacuum that descended from the ceiling to pick loose clumps of food and spilled drinks. It would also need each table to come equipped with a megaphone and tissue dispensers. And possibly, if we’re being really ambitious it would need men, of any ilk and sort, schlubby, stuffy, dad bod, inappropriately clad, drunk, dull, droids – whatever as look as they seem convincing male-ish, they’ll pass. And never get between a Real Housewife of New York and a man!
In Newport, Rhode Island where Ramona Singer is pretending to be of the puritanical Mayfair class that Tinsley Mortimer hails from, no one can behave. Leah McSweeney is throwing anything she can pick up, and now they’re in yet another bar having yet another emotional meltdown. Honestly — someone just put hormones in their drinks because it’s like everyone in this cast is constantly PMSing.
