Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Thank You OC Housewives for Giving Me New Goals In Life

Newcomer to the OC cast, Heather Dubrow teaches us that Real Housewives come in all shapes and hair colors. Also, that you don't fuck with a bitch's cake.
Ok, so of all the Housewives shows, the only one I've never really watched was the original of the franchise starting way back in 2006 when we knew nothing of the dark sinister world of housewives and other such nonsense; The Real Housewives of Orange County (2006 - ). And they are known as the originals for a reason. All that glitzed-up shit and fake boobs, and hair bleach that people mimic to death on SNL or Halloween all came from the OC. This season, Season 7, introduced *gasp* a brunette into the  chemical-peeled, blinged-out, nonsense-talking melting pot; 'actress' Heather Dubrow who happens to be married to the leading plastic surgeon in all of Orange County. Over there, that's like being Pope.
In the last episode, which was one of the few that I had watched, Heather decides to have her name legally changed from Heather Something to 'Heather Dubrow'. So basically it was just an excuse to host a party at her insanely large and overly kitschy mansion that could house the population of a small Midwestern village. She looked fantastic for a woman that's had the minimal amount of surgery that is required to be an official resident of the OC, and her husband Terry Dubrow, MD looked pretty fabulous too, except for the pink leisure shirt and neon pocket square.
The antithesis to Heather, and to humanity in general, Vicki Gunvalson is someone who's had 8 too many facelifts, and has clearly had her rationale decimated in the process. Though, I have to say, I love it when she gets mad, because her plastic-masque face contorts in the most horrifying ways. If there was a mash-up of just Vicki's facial expressions, it would make for a great cult film.
And that's when it hit me, I'm clearly doing something wrong. I want a mansion overlooking the canyon into the ocean too. I want a service staff of primarily hunky guys in their early 20's walking up to me asking me if I want a truffle-chocolate covered strawberry. I want a husband who's a plastic surgeon so that I would never have to pay for it. God help me, I want everything I've ever seen on Bravo! But don't get too excited ladies. If you think being a trophy wife and kept woman is as good as it gets, there's the other side of the spectrum to consider when looking for outrageously priced real estate in the OC. 'The OG from the OC' as Bravo executive Andy Cohen dubbed her, Vicki Gunvalson, the melted-face middle-aged Sasquatch proves that all too painfully. Throughout the last season she has been shacking up with a mysterious "Southern gentleman' named Brooks of whom everyone disapproves. Two days after the finale premiered, 20/20 did a not-so shocking exposé regarding the boyfriend du jour. Apparently, Brooks the weirdo with no teeth and a George Bush accent is a con artist who left his wife and litter of children somewhere in the Bible belt to move to the OC with nothing but a slew of lies to string along the most willing and desperate housewife he can find. 
So if this has taught me anything, it's that brunettes win in life. Also, not to have a melted face. Vicki's first season catchphrase was 'I don't want to get old', to which America has collectively answered - 'Too bad, and too late'. The OC Housewives have become the second most endearing incarnation in the franchise since the housewives of Atlanta, and there's a reason for that. They were the original  television gold-diggers, backstabbers, superficial barbie-esque man-trap cats in heat, and I for one cannot get enough of them. Here's to my bleach-blonde, sun-soaked, sylicon-boobed future. May it be as fabulous as it looks on TV. 

Below, Vicki gets mad. There's one of those moments every episode. In case you're wondering, the outfits are because of an 80's party. The most original thing I've ever heard of in my life.

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