Today's topic: Real Housewives
I'm a bad blogger. I recognize this, and according to AA, admitting I have a problem is the first step to recovery. However, Charlie Sheen followed the AA program, so apparently I'm still 14 steps away from declaring I am a warlock with tiger blood, so that's a relief. (BEING Charlie Sheen would give me topics for Whoreticulture Friday for the rest of the year. Sex with the goddesses? VD from the goddesses? Denise Richards? HEIDI FLEISS!?!?) Anyway, after extensive traveling the last two weekends I sort of went into blogger meltdown and haven't done much writing-wise. I'm sure you hardly noticed, but still. Apologies.
Since it is Daylight Savings Time, I'm going to spring back to Friday and pretend this post is still on time.
I'm not a Real Housewives watcher. Honestly, I'm not much of a reality TV watcher because I tend to get so frustrated with or embarrassed for the people on the shows that I just can't take it. Project Runway is my only exception, mostly because the show is more about the talent than the personalities. Besides, I think, "those people are just the Hollywood types who are trying for their 15 minutes of fame". Then I went out for margaritas with a friend last Thursday and realized they are REAL.
These women are conservative compared to what I saw Thursday.
My friend and I went to Los Agaves, a Mexican chain restaurant in the Quad Cities, for a few overdue margaritas. We're mid conversation when suddenly my friend stops talking and her jaw drops. She says "Behind you. Look behind you and tell me you see what I see." I turned, and there they were. The Real Housewives of the Quad Cities. Women in crotch-skimming hemlines, six-inch heels, makeup by Tammy Faye Bakker, and hair-up-to-there. There were about eight women. The youngest could get away with saying they were Jersey Shore castmates, and they inspire second looks and gawking. The oldest was a woman who had to be in her 50's, tottering on her skyscraper heels, lycra skirt, and was just...sad.
I'm not saying you can't wear whatever you want. Really. Do it. But if you don't want the entire Hispanic wait staff at Los Agaves to stand around the corner, pointing and saying things in Spanish about your coochie, follow these pointers:
- If you feel all breezy in the vajayjay, your skirt is too short.
- If you have on more makeup than Zsa Zsa Gabor, don't act surprised when people look for the other 13 clowns to get out of the Volkswagen after you.
- If your 'do is tickling the top of a room with over 7 foot ceilings, it is too high. And you are probably a fire hazard.
- If you are showing over 75% lean breast, you might end up in a sandwich. And not a delicious one. Slathered in mayo...if you catch my drift. And maybe you like mayo, and that's okay, but that particular mayo is NOT going to be back to condiment your next sandwich.
- If the entire staff of a Mexican restaurant is catcalling at you, it might be time to wrap a tortilla around your burrito.
- If your grandchild is texting you during your second Blow Job shot, it's time to go home.
"They didn't talk about anything, one of them left the toilet unflushed and the other one took a dump. Total waste of my time." Hmm. Not something they cover on Real Housewives. I can totally see why.
Happy Daylight Savings Time! Have a great week!