I'm done with Real Housewives. All of 'em.

Yes, I am officially breaking up with a t.v. show.

The Real Housewives of New York reunion was on last night. Part One, of course, because there is only so much vapidness you can shove into one hour.

I won't be watching Part Two.

Yeah, I know, I can hear Andy Cohen weeping into his couch cushions right now...but really. Last night's show just did me in.

I had been at Urgent Care for most of the night (Charlie's right pinkie was sliced open at the gym on Sunday, Big Daddy deemed it "not a big deal" and when it still hadn't stopped bleeding by yesterday afternoon, I took him in. Shocker...he needed stitches. Big bitch-slap...too much time had elapsed so stitches weren't an option. Sigh, Big Daddy.)....

Where was I? Oh yeah. Urgent Care most of the night, staring at the clock and trying to not reach over the front desk and go all Braveheart on the receptionist..."LET US IN NOW, WOMAN! I HAVE SHOWS TO WATCH!". Not only was RHONY on, but there was also a new Teen Wolf AND a new "Closer". So many stories, so little time.

We finally got out of there, and I made it home in time for the encore showing of Real Housewives. I poured myself a glass of wine, moved the dish of Skittles closer to my talons and got ready to be entertained.

I was anything but entertained. Here's the weird part: I usually love the fighting. I don't know why, maybe it's the sneaky eavesdropping thrill, but I can seriously feel my pulse start racing when one of those skanks throws down. For whatever reason, I love to watch the fur fly.

But not last night. Things started out innocuously enough: King Andy, in the middle. The Brunettes stage left, Blondes on the right. It didn't take long for the wheels to come off and for the whole thing to implode upon itself. Bitching back and forth, eye rolling, finger pointing. All of these empty women, sitting on the couches, long shiny legs crossed in front of them, looking like the world's creepiest Barbie doll collection.

Ramona's whole-body spasms, facial tics, dress tugging...it's like watching Elaine dance on Seinfeld .

Alex sitting there, big mouth hanging open, eyes bulging in indignant horror, arms akimbo, hives erupting. And would someone PLEASE get a bra on that woman??

Sonja wiping crocodile tears off of her taut cheeks (not the cheeks down south of course), striking her poses (am I the only one who thinks she's trying to capture Zoolander's Blue Steel look?) , going on and on about her lifestyle and "Being Sonja Morgan".

Cindy, wearing that same "Holy shit where am I" look (or is it, "I smell poo...anyone else smell that?") she had on her face this whole season. Casting mistake, Bravo. Plus her brother Howie gives me the creepy crawlies.

Kelly, looking very medicated but still sounding so mentally ill. You are so inauthentic, Kelly. And that's me being authentic.

Jill channeling Cleopatra and acting all "oh no you din't!".

And The Countess, who actually didn't do much to bug me last night other than her on-going Ed Grimley impression: "I must say". That could be a drinking game, seriously. Take a swig every time LuAnn says "I must say" "Darling" or "gracious".

It got ugly, fast. Molly was watching with me and even she said, about 20 minutes into it, "This is stupid."

It was like refereeing a fight between a gaggle of 14 year old girls. Hair tossing, whispering, chin quivering...and the yammering. If you didn't have a headache before watching it, you probably had one brewing soon after.

And then Andy Cohen told the ladies to Shut The Fuck Up. As funny as that was, it was like a switch being flipped. This was no longer entertaining, or interesting, or even somewhat intriguing.

This was, as my 15 year old daughter so eloquently put it, stupid.

These women are awful people. Truly awful, empty, people. Of course, I don't know them personally. They may be freaking saints in person, but what they choose to be on television is nothing more than icky, glossy/sticky crusts of human beings.

It actually causes me physical pain just to think about the fact that these horrible people have been given so much in life, have every single one of their heart's desires given to them on a perfect, silver platter...when there are such good and decent people on the same planet who have nothing.

And it hit me: I'm partly to blame. Just by watching them, by liking them on facebook, by sitting through the commercials, by writing about them... I am supporting them. Not in a big way, but make no mistake about it: I'm giving them my time and my attention and my broadband. I'm letting them into my home.

We shut off the t.v. after Andy's outburst. I felt icky. I was pissed at myself for giving up non-refundable minutes of my life for these hopelessly narcissistic, soulless, shallow people. And that's when I decided...no more.

I will miss Andy, most of all, he with the wandering eye and the casual linen trousers. My sweet gay mensch, I will miss you the most.

In case you missed it, I will leave you with Andy's outburst. Say it loud, say it proud, Andy. And let's let these lowlifes slink back from whence they came.

My favorite part of this video? The part where Alex is pretending to be a big teal blue balloon losing air. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That made me guffaw out loud. GOL.

The Wives Just Don't Shut Up!

I guess I can still see Andy... Watch What Happens Live is ok to watch, right?