Ain’t no vacation like a Real Housewives of New York City vacation. Just as the bitches from Orange County never fail to bring their A-Game to season finales and reunions, these New Yorkers always school everyone when it comes time for an international jaunt. To this day, none of the Housewives have been able to top “Scary Island” (despite several valiant efforts in South Africa, the Dominican Republic, and Hawaii).
Now we have St. Barth’s, which has given us a nice smorgasbord of ridiculousness. First, there were Ramona and Sonja barking orders at the house staff for pool noodles. Then there was Round 37 of the Great Toaster Oven Photo Shoot Debacle of 2011 (Carole — quickly becoming one of the funniest housewives ever — noted that Sonja’s toaster oven remains the most talked of toaster oven that no one has actually seen). The real fun of the hour came, however, when the girls headed off to a night of heavy drinking at a local watering hole. We met a certain Johnny Depp lookalike named Tomas, and it wasn’t long before LuAnn was swinging her pirate booty in his direction. Shockingly, the Bravo cameras apparently shut off at midnight, which meant we totally missed the following escapades (the second major miss of the episode following Heather walking straight into a glass door).
According to the women of the house, LuAnn brought back Tomas. This was actually verified by LuAnn herself, who spilt the beans to her friend in French (did she not think there were any interpreters at Bravo? Then again, her accent is so bad it’s a miracle that anyone understood what she was saying). LuAnn, however, hilariously maintained a façade that she had run into a group of old Italian friends. None of them had names or identities, but apparently they were a great time. We’ll have to wait until next week for Ramona to grill Tomas about his illicit encounter. Until then, here’s the photocap…
It’s been a while since I wrote a photocap for Real Housewives of New York City, and I can explain why very easily: I’m lazy. Truth is that I have more in common with Sonja Morgan than I’d like to admit. Basically, we both like to sit in bed and read about our “friends” in the New York Post (and by New York Post, I mean Facebook). Nevertheless, RHoNYC has ratcheted up the crazy the past two episodes, and I think barely one scene has gone by that hasn’t been totally, utterly cringe-inducing.
Take this week’s episode, for example. The show began with Heather and Sonja butting heads repeatedly over a toaster-oven photo shoot that looked about as pleasant as if I had stuffed my head into said toaster oven and turned the machine to broil (that of course assumes Sonja’s hardware actually works, which is not necessarily a given). Poor Heather looked positively frustrated as she stood around, NOT getting paid, waiting for Sonja’s lazy ass to show up. When Sonja did arrive, she had so many requests and demands that even Faye Dunaway was probably “Chill, girl.” It’s no wonder she needs a small army of interns to follow her around like ducklings. The crazy woman has so many needs at any given time that it would take at least five people to tend to her every whim (not the least of which pertains to bloody tampons. Ewwwww).
It occurred to me this morning that it’s been ages since I’d written up a photocap for The Real Housewives of New York City. Maybe that’s because the new cast has yet to really gel (or at least spark). The revamped RHONYC has been something of a mild failure. The show is still entertaining to watch, and our old guard of LuAnn, Sonja, and Ramona certainly keep things interesting, but truth be told, the new girls are just too normal. Well, not normal, per se. Aviva’s boatload of phobia’s and insecurities are far from the norm. However, the new ladies are almost too polite and self-aware. We need brash, ridiculous behavior from these women, otherwise we’re stuck with just another Bravo show about affluent but boring city-dwellers.
They’re baaaaaaAAAAAACK. Well, at least three of them. I speak, of course, of The Real Housewives of New York City, which has been revamped with new opening credits, a new artistic direction, and of course a new(ish) cast. Gone are Cindy, Kelly, Jill, and Alex. In their place come three fresh faces. Well, I use the term “fresh” loosely. I wouldn’t call Carole and Aviva the paradigms of natural beauty. Poor Carole has done such strange things to her mouth that she often looks like she’s in a permanent state of Invisalign shame. Y’all know what I’m talking about.
Of the three newbies, Carole most certainly made the smallest impression. On the plus side, she seems to hate kids, which is hilarious, and even better, she hates when mommies talk about kids. Already she’s won me over. However, after that glorious revelation, Carole kind of become blah and forgettable. She talked about being a widow a lot (all the while simultaneously suggesting how annoyed she was about having to be pigeonholed as a widow), and she managed to humble brag a few times as well. Hopefully she’ll serve as something of a Greek chorus to the rest of these women because if there’s anything that has remained consistent with this series, it’s the high level of bat-shit craziness on display.