Sure, sometimes I allude to the possibility that the crazy cruelty, incessant idiocy, and stomach-churning hatred heaved out into the world by our Real Housewives of Orange County could bring about the kind of fiery day of reckoning Tamra studies with her personal trainer/spiritual guru while she's doing burpees. Yes, I've suggested Vicki pantomiming the act of nailing herself to a crucifix during a party in Newport Beach might very well lead to Catholicism as a whole shutting down just so the religion's followers do not have to be in any way associated with a creature I'm pretty sure was thought up by Satan himself after a particularly rough week. And okay, fine -- I've called some of these women morons and lunatics and Mephistopheles' asshole. I've giggled uncontrollably just glancing at the hideous purses Gretchen once thought would make her a millionaire and I've gone on record saying I'd rather drink the urine of a possum in heat than ever so much as taste Vicki's Wines By Wives. I stand by those comments; they're entirely accurate, but none of it means I wish personal harm to come to any of these women. Watching the accident go down on tonight's show was scary and I'm glad everyone is safe. That's not to say, however, that I would have objected to this accident knocking some sense into the heads of the truly senseless, but I suppose it's best I don't get greedy. Besides, I've already used my allotted three wishes on praying Bethenny gets herself ordained and shows up in Palm Beach to perform Luann's wedding ceremony in a long white dress and a veil.
Sure, I write Real Housewives recaps. I sit in front of my television set two nights a week with my laptop propped open and resting on my leg and I take copious notes. I type out in a rhythmic pitter-patter what these women say and what they wear and the ways in which they deflect their odious behavior and my hands actually cramp by the end of the evening, so busy are my fingers as they hit the keys to form words I never could have imagined I’d ever transcribe. By the way, try explaining to a man you’re dating that you can’t hang out on a Monday or Tuesday night in the middle of summer when you’re not working because you have to watch Bravo and then compose ten pages about what Vicki said to Meghan and see how he reacts. Before you do it, I’m going to recommend that you only say such a sentence while wearing lingerie because I find that you’ll be forgiven far more quickly.
But just because I watch this franchise faithfully does not mean that I engage with any other aspect besides the show itself. I do not follow any of these women on Twitter and I have never bought a single item that any one of them endorses. I also did not tune in to watch something recently aired that I think was called The Housewife Awards and I certainly didn’t participate in the voting process. Since I didn’t watch, I have no idea what the categories were or who won or if any Housewife made a pilgrimage to some podium to accept an award, which I’d bet several of them would happily do as there might have been a red carpet there and maybe the trophy looked shiny and perhaps some of the women believed that they could melt the thing down and turn it into a pair of matching golden bangles like Wonder Woman used to wear.
What I have decided to do, however, is hand out a few of my own awards to the Housewives past and present and I will even fashion a tiara out of generic aluminum foil to give to any who have been craving a pop of silver. And the winners are…
