Tragic Mistakes #3: The Real Housewives (of Anywhere)

God almighty, no wonder they say money doesn't bring you happiness.

God almighty, no wonder they say money doesn’t bring you happiness.

Somewhere along this wonderful ride called life I was led astray. I don’t know where it was, but at some point “reality tv” came into power with a distinct lack of reality. What they don’t say about the Reality of reality television is that they call it reality television because it sounds a lot nicer than “The Freak Show”, which was what the circus thought was Reality performance. The reason being people on reality tv and people in the sideshow are real living people. That’s where any similarity ends, though. From now on I will refer to it as Freakshow TV, because I think that’s a more real explanation of what you’re watching. If you don’t believe me then think about the money that was spent turning the above women into those frightening monsters. Try to find someone in your life who behaves like Freakshow TV stars. You can’t. Or if you can you’re kind of cheating and putting someone there who doesn’t fully belong. Just because auntie Edna has a strong moustache doesn’t mean she’s the bearded lady.

I think I need more plastic surgery, no?

I think I need more plastic surgery, no?

My favourite part of the title for all of these shows is “Real”, when it’s quite obvious that nearly every part of their bodies is 100% fake, be it some kind of cut and tuck, some sort of disgusting indoor tan, gaudy nails glued to fingers and of course their interests in charity for anything other than making the rest of the horrible greedy things they say sound almost acceptable. If selection of a name came down to me I’m pretty sure it’d be The Fake Bitches of Beverly Hills. Or Vancouver, or New York. I don’t know if I’ve seen all of them, but I have certainly seen enough. The funniest part is the woman on the left actually paid money to look that way. Did they get rich suing the doctor?

Sometimes instead of a face lift I think I need my neck lowered

Sometimes instead of a face lift I think I need my neck lowered

One thing I didn’t know before watching these shows is that plastic surgery can (reputedly) work wonders on a person’s face. What it cannot work wonders on is their neck. What’s the point of having a young looking face when your neck looks like a three hundred year old leather curtain? When the part under your face and above your chest looks like a scrotum it doesn’t matter how tight your face is, kay? It’s only when they sit back in their chairs that you can really see it, but doesn’t that defeat the purpose entirely? As a guy I’ll tell you right now that we never say, “Oh she has such a young pretty face, I don’t care what the rest of her body looks like.” In fact, I pride myself in being one of the few remaining men who actually finds facial appearance important, along with personality, tact and intelliegence. Most men don’t care for any of these things. They’re going to start looking at your neck, and unless they’ve started lowering necks you’ve already got a problem.

Imagine if any of these idiots ever had a real problem?

Imagine if any of these idiots ever had a real problem?

The premise of the show is to watch people who don’t work but have a lot of money go around being complete bitches and whores. When you’re done watching you feel better about yourself because you can solve real problems on your own, you’re better looking than they are without spending thousands on your outfit and body, and you know if there was a Slap A Moron contest and you were in the same room with them you’d have a very nice feeling face when the whole thing was done. It also gives you many interesting things to ponder later. For example, what is a house man? It’s not the husband and I’m guessing it’s not a butler or a pool boy. Whatever he is you can be certain he earns his measly pay. I think he gets paid extra not to shoot any of the women, so he’s actually doing alright, don’t worry about him.

Wrong picture, I was going to discuss the musical Wicked in my next blog. Oh.. wait, nevermind.

Wrong picture, I was going to discuss the musical Wicked in my next blog. Oh.. wait, nevermind.

If there’s a moral to be learned here it’s that money does not buy happiness but vast amounts of insecurity and bitterness. It’s that a woman aging gracefully and in her time is one of the most beautiful things on Earth and should not be interrupted for anything as silly as fake pride. You can also take out of it the fact that even rich women have problems, but they don’t acknowledge those problems, they just focus on things that are juvenile to distract themselves from the nightmare of their reality. If that kind of thing makes you feel better about yourself then prepare to be delighted. Where are the real husbands? They show up sometimes, looking like complete jackasses and getting bossed around by women who have likely never worked a real day in their lives. I can understand why most of them don’t want to be on the show. Same goes for the kids. Why is the show about “Housewives” when the entire family doesn’t want to be involved? Well that’s simple: the housewives themselves are anything but involved in the lives of their families. There’s no way you can rub that in your friends faces, so what’s the point?

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