Can I stop watching this? No. Please, God, can I just stop watching re-runs I've already seen? Again, all signs point to "no." And as the countdown has begun for the season finale of the "Housewives" of NYC, I have bookmarked bravotv.com so that I know EXACTLY how much time is left until the final show. Because that's what Jill Zarin's mother would want me to do.
And are these housewives that entertaining? Are they, in fact, "real"? Do I really need to expend energy wondering if a physiological problem is causing Ramona's eyes to bulge like that whenever she opens her mouth to speak? Is it important that I find out if the Countess may retain her title after a divorce, considering that her Count has run off with an Ethiopian woman in Switzerland? Do I really want to know who Gretchen has been dating post-show? Should I continue to use the words "low-budget bitch" or "trashbox" in describing unladylike females who also enjoy wearing bad hairpieces?
The answer to all these questions, my friends, is a big, Spanx-covered, Botox-injected, surgically enhanced, seven-figure, tequila-infused, diamond-studded and animal print-swathed "YES."
So, thanks, Real Housewives. You're my Weakness of the Week. Now, where's my Skinnygirl Margarita*..........
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