Kelly Bensimon: “Bethenny has knives on her tongue. She’s trying to kill me . . .”
“How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it a leg.” ~ Abraham Lincoln
Over at gawker.com, Richard Lawson did his final recap of the “Real Housewives of New York”: the lost footage. Yes, RHNY even milked a lost footage show out of the ashes of nothingness.
It was classic Lawson: witty, sardonic, and chock full of spot-on visual imagery. And the comments in response to Lawson’s recaps are almost as much fun to read as the post itself. Here are the last two paragraphs:
Finally, finally, finally . . . we are done. There are no more reunion specials to look at, no more lost footage, nothing. Andy is silent for now. Everyone has been loaded into the freezers and left for later. Someday not terribly far off, Andy will look out at the sky, feel the winds changing direction, see the birds flying in telltale patterns, and he will know that it’s time again. To shuffle down to the basement with his big ring of keys and unlock them. Lay them out on the chamber tables to defrost. Well, some he will leave in the freezer forever, their hearts slow and cold. But others he will thaw out, breathe life back into again, stroke their hair, whisper “Welcome back. Welcome home. Did you have any dreams?” Someday that will happen again, and we too will notice the signs. Notice eddies swirling in new ways, see the plants bending toward a different light. And we will know.
But for now there is just silence. The gauzy hush of a summer in New York City. All the green disappearing into yellow, into brown. Bethenny is, yes, getting married. There is no question. There is no mystery. All our questions have been answered, we are satisfied, closed, already moving on. Moving like sharks, still alive. That old dog watching us, knowing something eternal that we don’t. Well, not just yet, at least.
Oh that I could write like Lawson, have Lawson’s job . . .
The Jelly Bean Song is Lawson’s homage to Kelly I’m-crazier-than-a-loon Bensimon, who subsists on jelly beans and beer and/or wine, even though she doesn’t drink or eat processed foods (in her words). For Kelly, saying it makes it so even if it’s all in her head.
“It is well to remember that there are five reasons for drinking: the arrival of a friend, one’s present or future thirst, the excellence of the wine, or any other reason.” ~ Latin Proverb
So last night was my Real Housewives of NY fix, and boy was it crazy. Ramona: “Pinot Grigio? Where’s the Pinot Grigio?” But what makes each episode truly enjoyable is reading the next day’s synopsis by Richard Lawson on Gawker.com. He says it so much better than I ever could, so I’m sharing just a bit of it with you today.
I couldn’t have said it better myself . . .
After that there was sort of a lull and Bethenny and Alex made fun of Kelly, which was a great little scene. The island sky was purple behind them and they were just laughing on a yacht, which, as we all know, makes laughing better. But of course it had to get ruined again. Ramona went streaking by, yelling “HiI’mmarryingpinotgrigioandI’mgoin’totheHootersboatbyeeee,” and then Sonja and Kelly came bumbling up after her. Alex decided to go to the Hooters boat (moored next door) with Ramona, because she though it was a boat full of owls, and that sounded interesting, so that left Bethenny, Sonja, and Kelly alone. They traveled down to the bowels of the boat and sat in a living room area. Sonja was hilariously wine-drunk. Her eyelids were even more purple and hooded than usual, and she was doing that sort of hand-fitzing drunk talk. That’s really hard to describe, but like you know when people are drunk and they sort make these quick, dismissive movements with their hands while saying something, and usually they talk kind of fast. Like, “But forgetaboutit, you know, iss fine, [hand fitz].” She was that lovely kind of drunk. So she was tottering over there on an ottoman and Bethenny looked like she wanted to shoot herself because she was pregnant and couldn’t drink (why on Earth did you go then B???) and Kelly was just marching in place to the tune of the Bolivian national anthem. And then, of course, a fight broke out.
More Finger Pointing from the Countess on Real Housewives of NY
“Television is an invention that permits you to be entertained in your living room by people you wouldn’t have in your home.” ~ David Frost
Fierce migraine that began Wednesday night kept me from posting yesterday. Instead, I curled myself into a ball (I was going to say little ball, but who am I kidding?) and slapped an ice pack on my head, only to find that it wasn’t an ice headache; it was a heat headache. Don’t you just hate it when that happens? So switched out ice pack for heated thingy and ingested medicine.
Mila's Boring Collection on Project Runway
Better by late last night, which allowed me to watch Project Runway and Real Housewives of New York.
On PR, Jay and Mila duked it out with their scissors. No wait. That was what I was hoping. They duked it out by sewing some bizarre clothes. Mila’s were . . . wait for it . . . black and white. Jay didn’t do the exploding hip pants, and actually had some über-cool black gaiters on one model. Of the two, I liked Jay’s three pieces better, which meant, of course, that Mila won.
Great, we get to see Mila put twelve (ten?) black and white retro outfits on the runway at Bryant Park. Can’t wait. No really. Can’t wait. Poor Jay. He’s such a sweetie, and he lost to the evil Mila. Even though Emilio has made some beautiful clothes, I just don’t like him. There. I said it. I mean, he’s nasty, the male version of Mila, which is probably why they can’t stand each other. Seth Aaron is funny and out there, so of course, I love him.
Next week’s big finale should be interesting. I’m pulling for Seth Aaron.
“Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy . . . For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistable urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.” ~ J. R. Ward, The Dark Lover
Ramona's Crazy-Eyed Runway Walk (RHNY)
On RHNY, more kvetching and bitching about Bethenny and Jill. Bethenny popped positive on her in-home pregnancy test. Now that’s interesting. Seems the producers want to inject yet another woman into the show, probably because Bethenny is leaving to have her own show on Bravo.
All of this leads me to take issue with the title of the show: Real. Housewives. First, let’s talk about the real part. Most of the OC housewives are plastic surgery retrofitted, which eliminates pretty much all of the real. Not sure how much of NY is plastic and silicone, but it looks to be a lot. So I vote for elimination of the word Real from the title.
Next, the word housewives. If any of these women actually do housewifery things, then I’m a Rockette. I mean, pleez. Dusting? Vacuuming? Grocery shopping? Bills? Anything? Anything? I feel like the teacher on Ferris Beuller: “Anyone? Anyone?”
Okay. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t mind the OC women so much when I had a job, a career, a nice wardrobe that fit. Then NY came along, and I almost liked them, all except for the Countess. And Ramona. Okay, I liked half of them. And then the introduction of Kelly last year—”I’m up here, and you’re down here”—so shy and retiring that one is.
But this season has reached new heights of ridiculousness because these women (and I don’t watch Atlanta or New Jersey, only because I can somehow justify two of the four but not four of the four) are so far from real housewives that it just isn’t funny any more. Granted, the term housewife is antiquated and sexist, but it’s the show’s premise, so roll with it.
But I digress . . .
Back to the insanity of this season: For example, last night’s show featured Jill’s pact with Kodak. Not sure what the two will do for each other, but who am I to judge. Let’s leave judging to crazy-assed Ramona, who opens mouth and bleats, “They’re not relevant. I know. I’m a businesswoman.” Really Ramona? Relevant? Are you sure you want to choose that particular word? Especially after your eye-popping, alien catwalk (oh, yes, that was relevant . . . not). Nothing these women do is relevant, or understandable, or likable. And as far as being a businesswoman: You design ugly jewelry, so that gives you the right to make snarky remarks about Kodak?
I’ll finish the NY season just because I’m already committed, and unlike half of the housewives on the show who are not married or in committed relationships (another contradiction), I try to honor my commitments to television shows. Don’t ask me why. But I’m fairly certain that this will be the last Housewives season for me. Once Bethenny leaves, I’m pretty sure that it will become doubly hard not to gag whenever the Countess or Kelly exude their self-proclaimed superiority. Besides, it’s the principle: They aren’t real (at least not in my world), and they aren’t housewives (at least not within the scope that traditionally encompasses the word).
“Cocooned inside our private dramas we often don’t realize life is rolling by us like it should.” ~ Waiter Rant
In the Workroom with Seth, Emilio and Tim Gunn
Okay, now that I’ve gotten all of that out of my system . . . Corey worked 11 to 7 last night, which meant that the dogs were out of control. Three times during the night they converged on the front door, barking and yelping like there was no tomorrow. Of course, there was no one there. And when they weren’t having barking fests, they were waking me up to let them out—every single hour. Consequently, I slept in fits and starts and just feel numb. Corey got home around 8 this morning and crashed. He’ll be out for hours.
I’m hoping that after I finish writing this post I’ll be able to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now that Corey is home, the dogs no longer feel it necessary to keen at unknown sounds and moving air.
I wanted to take a minute to acknowledge you guys, the people who read my blog. You have been tremendously supportive during this health scare with Alexis, and a few of you have offered information about banks in light of my daughter’s desire to work in a bank. I am always heartened by the wonderful comments and e-mails that I receive. These gestures of support mean more than I can express. Thank you so much.
Lola's Curmudgeonly Musings 