Never has the phrase “money doesn’t buy class” been more applicable, than it is to Real Housewives of New York City. Are you kidding me right now? THIS is how you behave? On camera? I shudder to think what you’re doing behind closed doors, ladies. Honest to Christ, I cringe less when watching The Bad Girls Club or Rock of Love! That’s right, you LuAnn, Jill, Bethenny, Alex, Ramona and New Girl are TERRIBLE.
Let’s start with “former model” LuAnn. So, we get it bitch, when you marry a count, you become a countess. Well guess what? Last time I checked your mildly royal status is not applicable in the United States, so get off your stupid high horse (seriously, stop making me watch you at horse events) and accept the fact that you’re just as classless as the rest of us. Oh, but thank you for finally revealing that you weren’t really a “high fashion” model as much as a “commercial” model who did “mostly catalogs.” And, if “The Countess” continues to speak in the third person, Beal is going to drive up to New York City and burn down her townhouse.
Next up, Jill. This super-JAP from Long Island manages to be the least annoying character on the show. Let me repeat that. THIS SUPER-JAP FROM LONG ISLAND IS THE LEAST ANNOYING PERSON ON THE SHOW. Your best friend Bethenny however, could use a good slap in the face. Bethenny, quit trying to pass off current slang as your own “isms.” Just because you’re a few decades younger than the rest of these whores, doesn’t mean that you made up the word “chillaxing” or whatever terrible Hannah Montana lingo you’re using. Oh and your “skinny girl margarita” doesn’t so much say “I like to watch calories” as “I’m a lush.”
Ramona. Ohhh, Ramona. Are you freebasing crystal meth? Or has your “doctor” prescribed you some type of prescription amphetamine? Are you or are you not concerned that your eyeballs are going to pop right out of your head? Because the rest of us certainly are. And just so you know, your medication’s other side effects, specifically the involuntary convulsions and twitching, are not technically dance moves. You have no rhythm, or shame, get off the dance floor.
Finally, Alex and homo-Simon. What can I say about these two wackjobs that hasn’t already been said? First of all, you have two children, a few hundred thousand dollars worth of “wearable art” and season tickets to the opera, yet you’ve opted to live in absolute squalor. How about we return a leopard print halter dress or two and say, put a floor down in your home? And I’m so glad you made such a fuss about how ridiculous summer in the Hamptons would be, before you rented the shittiest house in the entire community. Seriously, I went to Myrtle Beach once and stayed in a place called the Happy Hotel, in which I guy was shot in the parking lot, and it was nicer inside than your sweet weekend digs. The word creepy doesn’t begin to describe you two, but I am so so so very happy that an online dating service matched you guys, because you’re literally the only two people on earth that could possibly stand the other’s company. Seriously, even your children are embarrassed for you, and they’re toddlers.