
[Photo from The Observer]
It’s Friday, which means your weekly sign of the apocalypse is due. While Bravo has given us a few gems, they have also unleashed unspeakable horror upon unsuspecting viewers. Even so, the sight of overly-taut flesh stretched and crispy-tanned within an inch of its life only retains its shock value for 3 months: as long as it takes for your ass fat to get reabsorbed into your lips. Time to schedule another appointment! The scourge has now moved to our fair isle as The Real Housewives of Manhattan prepare to take their right place between primetime reality show trainwrecks. The Observer even had the nerve to propose this new pack of women as models of post-modern feminism. Behold, the faces of female empowerment whose struggles can be boiled down to “personal dilemmas (Pilates classes vs. boob job) and hope (margaritas!).” The writer’s strike couldn’t be over fast enough.
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times like this, i really, really wish i had a television.
i really miss comedy shows.