TV Review - RHONY Season 5

For me, admitting to watching any of the `Real Housewives` franchises is like suffering thorough a bout of colitis: painful, tiresome and embarrassing to talk about. But here we are, another season, another gaggle of horrible shrews behaving badly.

This season of the `Real Housewives of New York` has been going on for a couple of months now and so far, YAWN. The folks at Bravo jettisoned some of the dead weight from the cast (Cindy Barshop, we hardly knew ye) and added some new, equally shameless broads:


Aviva: mother of four, native New Yorker, cousin (by marriage) to Fran "Bobbi Flekman" Dresher and actual real housewife! She's also missing a leg, which they mention in EVERY SINGLE EPISODE. What she lacks in limbs, she makes up for in phobias. Girlfriend is afraid of everything: elevators, flying, heights, farm equipment (understandable, since that's what ripped off her leg). Or maybe she just uses them as an excuse to avoid doing humiliating things (e.g. hang out with the other Housewives).


Heather: zaftig owner/driving force behind something called "Yummie Tummie", which is not a fat free frozen yogurt stand, nor an upper body strengthening device for infants, but is instead a Spanx knockoff. Prone to randomly using "urban" words like, "holla." Winner of "Phoniest Smile" award in high school.


The Kennedy Chick - I think her name is Carole. She is like, Jackie O's grandniece, or something. Friends with lots of bigwigs and at one time had an actual real job as a news producer for ABC. Also, is a princess of some sort, thanks to her dead husband. Why is she on this show? Her pedigree seems legit. Apparently, she's got a book and an upcoming TV pilot to hawk. Despite messed up plastic surgery and horseteeth, seemingly too normal and self-aware to be at all entertaining. Snooze.


Rounding out the cast are the standbys from seasons past: crazy Ramona, stuck-up Luann and slutty Sonja.


Like a microcosm of America, things seem to be shaping up along class lines, with the old money going to battle against the downtrodden nouveau riche. Aviva and Carole, with their "credentials" and "connections" seem to have been recruited in an effort to make the already crass and classless Ramona look even trashier and Sonja even skankier.


So far, there has been nothing going on. Ramona hates Heather for some reason and vice versa, and there is some low-level annoyance brewing between the Countess (Luann) and the Princess (Carole). Most of them went to London together where Sonja stuck her face in the hotel bidet (seems about right). Ramona continued to cash in on her drinking problem by cutting a deal with Target to have her pinot grigio sold there. Did I mention that it comes in a box? Of course it does. Aviva fell down the steps, because SHE HAS ONE LEG. Luann, at 47, is "pulling a Ramona" and trying to get pregnant. HAHAHAHA. The show is still embarrassing, but it's boring, too. Like going to your old college roommate's one-woman show about Sojourner Truth.


If the previews for episodes to come are to be believed, however, it's all going to change next week! Finally, stuff starts happening. When they ran the ad, I was in a stupor after watching a particularly boring episode, but here's what I remember:


- Viva Aviva! Suddenly, she gets something to do and starts laying into people, namely Ramona. Something must go horribly wrong on their current jaunt to Miami where they are hanging out, being friends (?), because in the preview, Aviva busts out the "WHITE TRASH" sash and pins it on Ramona!


- She's also had it with Sonja, apparently. Evidently, the plan to hook Sonja up with Aviva's "sex addict" FATHER did not go according to plan. I don't know - it seemed foolproof. Anyway, in the preview, Aviva calls Sonja out on her sorority girl behavior (i.e. being a sad, drunken mess with her skirt over her head).


- At one point in some future episode, Aviva comes out with this notable quotable: "This isn't about you or me! This isn't about my charity! This is about the kids... WHO DON'T HAVE LEGS!" Awesome. I'll be watching for that exchange alone.

In a Pickle.

In these, our Tough Economic Times, it's nice to get something for nothing. When dining out, getting a little something extra on the house is nice: say, an orange wedge on your brunch plate, a carved radish with your Thai food or a little plastic cup a of coleslaw with your burger.

But you know, not everyone likes pickles. And some people REALLY hate it when they order a delicious grilled cheese sandwich and it arrives SITTING IN A POOL OF TEPID PICKLE JUICE. It's untoward.

'Tashmanian Devils.

Some dudes' mugs just cry out to be adorned with facial hair. While an ill-advised mustache can be a dangerous thing, conjuring up the obligatory porn star or child molester comparisons, a well-placed crop of facial hair can disguise a myriad of problems. Weak chin? Slap a van dyke over your shame. No lips? Cover that mess up with a big ole push broom. Burn victim? Grow some crap over those scars - no one will realize you're horribly disfigured! It's like magic.

Some men whose facial hair was really working for them have inexplicably decided to ditch the stubble, presumably to "update" their look. Big mistake. Here is a list of men who need to grow it all back as soon as possible:

1. Alex Trebek
2. Tom Selleck
3. Kenny Loggins
4. Local nerd/weather man Hurricane Schwartz
5. John Oates, late of Hall and Oates

Who else?

Superfood.

If (and when) left to my own devices, my diet consists mostly of saltines, mayo and/or peanut butter, chocolate covered espresso beans and the occasional pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food. If I have to go so far as to construct some sort of a meal, forget it. I don't know what goes with what and I'm not trying to dirty any dishes.

So when I heard about these "superfoods" my initial plan was to eat them and only them. Then I'd be getting maximum nutrients with minimal effort, right? Except the "superfood" list I came up with consisted only of kale, berries of any kind, quinoa, probiotics and seaweed. I'm not really into any of these items. Next.

Why can't superfood consist of butter, Cocoa Puffs, and those toasted coconut-covered marshmallows they sell around Passover? Have you had the latter? Because they are awesome.

How Not to Win Big in Vegas.

1. Play four rounds of multi-hand video blackjack. Freak out that you just lost $28 in 3 minutes. Stop playing.

2. Seek out the same exact Wheel of Fortune slot machine that paid out $200 to you like 7 years ago. Pump quarters into it, refusing to believe that the same luck shouldn't strike twice.

3. Resort to playing penny slots, even though you have no idea what's going on or what the bets are/what the payout could be. Rejoice when you win big - twice - to the tune of SIX DOLLARS PROFIT. Wonder why you didn't start here and come out $12 richer from your trip to Sin City, instead of about 80 bucks lighter.

4. Consider sitting through a two-hour time-share pitch for the chance to score "free" tickets to Rita Rudner. A gamble if there ever was one.

Lotto, Schmotto.

After a particularly bad/soul-sucking/craptastic day, do you ever find yourself purchasing a lottery ticket, momentarily entertaining the notion of rolling around in a big pile of moolah while telling your boss to cram it with walnuts? But then it turns out you don't win and are instead even more disgruntled, downtrodden and disgusted?

Admit it: you've been there. And it should come as no surprise, because I'm convinced the lottery is a(nother) state-sponsored scam. A scam, I tell you! Have you ever known anyone personally who was won big bucks in the lottery? I'm not talking about some fool who netted like $500. I'm talking about the ridiculous jackpots that would likely ruin your life and see you inundated with calls from long lost friends, family and children. No? That's because no one wins! The state keeps the money and doles out paltry amounts to keep suckers interested. I'm convinced it's all a sham.

Or maybe I'm just bitter because I once again failed to win the lotto yesterday and can't afford a big, tricked-out belt buckle like (the artist formerly known as Lil') Romeo, over there.

Muzak Magic.

Who likes grocery shopping? Yeah, me, neither. The grocery store that's most convenient to me is also the suckiest. I went in there today and they're re-doing it, presumably to make it suck less. Except the way they're doing this is by installing lighting that makes all the shoppers look like extras in Shawn of the Dead, putting in freezers with shelving that no human with an average armspan could possibly reach, and evidently playing oldies on the sound system. Not like, some oldies. ALL OLDIES.

I don't want to feel like I'm in a malt shop or sliding around on the vinyl backseat of my parents' 1972 Plymouth Satellite as my mom careens around the corners with the radio going (what seatbelts?!) when I'm food shopping. I want to feel like I'm in the grocery store. I want to hear some Michael McDonald, Eagles or the muzak version of "Living in America" as I check the expiration dates. I don't want the Big Bopper or Frankie Valli. I want my Seals & Crofts! 

Although, isn't it way worse when you're in a store and there's NO music on at all? You start feeling like something bad is going to go down or that they closed the place and accidentally locked you in. Worse, you start questioning your purchases, the institution of capitalism and your existence. Maybe "Chantilly Lace" ain't so bad, after all. No, wait - yes, it is.

The Jerk Within.

Don't you hate those d-wads who fly off the handle without letting you get a word in edgewise?

While crossing the street this morning (in subzero temperatures), a taxi obviously not intending on actually observing his Stop sign began rolling toward me while I was in the crosswalk. Naturally, I started mouthing off. He jammed on the brakes, then rolled down the window. "Oh, it's on," I thought, and unleashed a barrage of anger in his direction. "Why don't you look where you're going? You're supposed to STOP at a Stop sign. You almost ran me over! Your Momma!" While I paused for breath, he said, "I was just trying to tell you I'm sorry."

Man. I hate it when I turn out to be the jerk. It's much more fun when everyone else sucks.

Judge (& Jury) Dredd.

Around this time last year, I got called for jury duty and it was a magical time. After the initial cattle call, I got selected to sit on the jury for an armed robbery case. I felt like I won the lottery. I totally loved nearly every minute of it, and I'm not apologizing for it.

The highlights:

1) 10 day paid vacation from work. 10 DAYS, SUCKERS! I felt like I just won a dream vacation to sunny Acapulco. Looking back, I realize how very sad this was.
2) A lazy-ass judge. Or he was sick or something. Regardless, this guy slept through most of the trial, wanted to begin the day no earlier than 10:00am, and dismissed us by 3:00pm every day.
3) Comforting, kindergarten teacher-like bailiff who rounded us up and shuffled us around, asking frequently if we needed potty breaks.
4) Prosecutor who looked like a cross between (among?) Jimmy Smits on L.A. Law, James Lipton and El Diablo.
5) Mistaken impression that I might somehow get to meet Judge Judy.
6) Got to go home for lunch daily while hearing the case. While deliberating, we ordered from a a bevy of restaurants, ALL EXPENSES PAID. We're talking Chili's here, people.
7) Speaking of getting pizzaid, I got paid like $11/day including a federal holiday when court was not in session. I tried to give it to the payroll people at work but it was too much trouble for them to figure out how to deduct it from my pay or something, so KABLAM, I made like 100 clams.
8) After being verbally threatened by some people awaiting some OTHER trial, the judge made us enter and exit courtroom via a SECRET HALLWAY. Very Nancy Drew!
9) Did I mention the fact that I did not have to go to work for 10 days?
10) Actually fun to be a part of the judicial process, even though it did not include gospel singing like on Cop Rock.

So why am I annoyed? I just found out I am not eligible to be called again for another three years! NOOOOOOO!!!

Am I the only person who ever had a good jury duty experience?