Dare to dream.
I love me some trashy, reality TV. I do have limits, but I’ll admit, I find Billy The Exterminator, sweet, Toddlers and Tiara’s mind-boggling and a Hoarder’s marathon? Don’t even think about interrupting me. But my all time favorite is Bravo’s Real Housewives franchise. And even though each season more and more of these ladies get divorced, lose their fortunes and dignity for their 15 minutes, I keep watching, rooting, discussing and most of all, judging the shit out of these ladies.
So when I heard that there was some drama brewing in New York City yoga circles – like a car accident, I couldn’t turn away. If you too like some asinine with your asana, head over to Shine to read my post.
You’ve got to love the Real Housewives franchise on Bravo. First off, no one is a housewife and many aren’t even married. They are all working women, juggling career and family (although some don’t even have children) using their reality show to further build their empires. Whether it’s Vicky “We’re going to Mexico” Gunvalson’s insurance company or Betheny, “What the F?” Frankel’s Skinny Girl brand or Sheree “I’m going to put on a fashion show without first having any garments completed” Whitfield’s fashion line, the OC gals never fail to annoy the shit out of me. But because they make me laugh while doing it, I tune in when I can.
However, if the link below was the latest installment of Bravo’s weekly high-end, train wreck, you better believe I’d be recording it every week.
The Real Houswives of Late Night