Upon the advice of a good friend (and by good friend I mean Andy Cohen....I need a life, pronto, people), I started watching Real Housewives of New Jersey one day. It was one of those marathon days that Bravo likes to run, I imagine the programming guys slumped in their chairs, headphones askew as they snore the day away. Meanwhile, hapless Jersey virgins like myself are drawn into this sick and wrong web, like a lowly fly is lured into a sparkling, shiny maze of silken strings.
First of all, we have Caroline. I love her, and I'm not saying that because she scares me. Really. I love her in the sick way that Don Corleone's henchmen loved him. Because if we don't, we'll wake up with the head of something next to us. And that's ok. Love is love, right? Seriously, I think I love her because she's the one with whom I can relate. Aside from the money thing (she has shitloads, I have none), the husband thing (she has one, I have none), she embodies some golden parenting cajones that make me love her.
She loves her kids, faults and all. She supports them and loves them and encourages them no matter what, and that one single thing about her makes me like her and feel good things for this bad ass broad.
Teresa. Please tell me that I'm not the only one with this thought: If you shaved one of the Geico cavemen, you'd have Teresa. Don't kill me. Please. She is Jersey, through and through, and just for that I have to love her. But girlfriend has money, there has to be an electrolysis person somewhere in New Jersey who can help with that one inch forehead.
Jaqcueline. Your name makes my spellcheck get jiggy. I feel kind of sorry for you, even though every night you go to sleep in a bed that for sure cost more than I make in a year. She seems kind of lost, like she's the girl who accidentally got swept into the cool crowd and now has no freaking idea what to do. She had the baby with the Jersey troll, now what? Her relationship with her daughter makes me sad. Sad for mom? Yes. Sad for daughter? For sure. It's just tragic.
Danielle? Ewww. Ewww, ewwww, and more ewwww. Like Lysol ewwww. I will readily admit to having just jumped on board the Jersey boat, but this one gives me a rash. Who is she? Does she work? Who is the creepy rodent guy she hangs out with, the one who repeats EVERYTHING he says (don't believe me? Watch an episode. Mighty Mouse repeats every.single.thing. he says. It's like a new drinking game I can play all by myself, ala' Newhart)
Blonde girl. I haven't watched enough to judge her yet. But I will. Trust me, I will.
I see they are starting a DC version of Real Housewives. I warily eye my DVR, wondering if both she and I have what it takes to tackle yet another show.
I think we do. This is the point where it would be really, really good for both me and my Comcast account if I started dating again.