Real Housewives - SIngularly Unreal

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Survivor: The Strange Tale of Russell

Survivor is a terrible show. I want to say that. As so many of the shows I end up watching, I really find it annoying and kind of well, stupid. I actually fast-forward through much of it, because I really don't want to hear them talking at ALL.

The one guy that I really liked is Russell. He is smart, he can survive, and he knows how to manage a tribe. If I were REALLY on an island, without the benefit of Kraft services and EMTs, I would much rather have Russell on my island than Sandra or Parvati, who would just eat my food and call me names behind my back.

The thing that Russell needs: my company. He needs someone who can take what he's thinking, package and re-package it, and ensure that he ends up not only making it to the end, but having people who will vote for him.

Russell is a great player - I cheered for him for both seasons he was on the show. However, Russell needs to understand that his fellow players fell into a handful of categories - whining coattail rider, mean girl, aged hippie, moon unit, Christian-on-sleeve (meaning that their Christianity seems to be a garment of convenience rather than an actual choice of lifestyle), and whack-a-doodle.

Russell, you big dope! You can't expect those people to simply say you are the best and be fair about it! These are the people who, if you fired them for not doing their work and for stealing out of the till at work, would complain that they were just mad because you never understood them.

There are a lot of stupid people out there - folks who think they are better, kinder, smarter, etc., -- than they are. You have to sell those people for what they actually are, not what you would expect them to be.

Two in One Day: She's Angry and She's Orange!

I can't believe I am posting twice in one day. I watched The Real Housewives of New York today, and while it was such a relief not to have to lay eyes on Jill Zarin, I had to blog about the amazingly nutso Kelly Bensimon.

(pictured below -- which photo is LuAnn de Lesseps, Jill Zarin and Kelly Bensimon?) 

 

I have to think that Kelly was trying to be nice by supporting Ramona Singer is her midlife marriage vow renewal bachelorette party. But she's too jealous of Bethenny Frankel's success (author, entrepreneur, fiancee, mom-to-be, chef, non-horse) to be able to be in her presence. Word vomit just POURS out. It doesn't help that Kelly doesn't seem to be very bright, and her puppet strings are being pulled by the self-centered Super Jealous Geriatric JAP, Jill Zarin.

There was a scene in which Kelly just freaked out about the fact that the women were discussing anxious epsiodes they had had with Jill, and rather than just saying something wise, such as, "It's uncomfortable for me to hear this -- I am going to step out for a minute," Kelly starts talking about the women at the table as being mean, desperate, etc. Kelly likes to tell people how above it all she is.

She's actually like Luanne de Lesseps in that way.

Anyway, after throwing her tantrum and turning her voice up notch after notch in an attempt not to have anyone argue with her (because she's too stupid to rebut a valid point), Kelly flounces out with a Big Entrance. But then she couldn't find the door -- she just went from glass pane to glass pane looking for the way out. Finally, a waitress opened the door for her.

Bethenny's father had just died, and though Bethenny did not have a good relationship with him (because he was selfish and not a very good parent), she was obviously conflicted. I don't know why it is that Kelly can't understand that sometimes grief is not about losing something precious, but rather about losing the possibility of something precious. Because Kelly just tells Bethenny to basically get over herself.  Because only Kelly has valid feelings, and she doesn't dwell on them -- but this, of course, is because Kelly is about as introspective as linoleum.

She also thinks feelings are, like, so 1979. Wow - way to use history to present a point of contention.

Later, Bethenny is sitting there just being sober (the only one, btw) and, out of the blue, Kelly goes apeshit on her! I hate to use this word, but this is the Actual Psychiatric Term for it. She tells Bethenny that Bethenny is NOT A REAL CHEF, and nobody cares about her, nobody cares about her, nobody cares about her.

Umm, well, yeah. Nobody, except Bethenny's now-husband (then-fiance), the millions who bought her books, the millions who drink her Skinnygirl Margarita, the hundreds of thousands who eat who Bethenny Bakes products, her friends - oh, and yeah -- Kelly and Jill (and hanger-on LuAnn), who can do nothing but talk about Bethenny.

And then, Kelly tells Sonya (the new housewife, the one who talks a lot about sex), that she doesn't believe in one-night stands and that if Sonya had it like Kelly, she wouldn't give it away. I think by this, Kelly means the penis. None of the other Housewives has one.

And THEN - out of the blue, Kelly accuses Bethenny of sleeping around America and calls her a ho-bag. And she's proud of this! It's the actual Best She Can Do!

Bethenny basically roars with laughter at this: she's sober, and she's way smarter than Kelly and her Spray Tan and her Columbia degree which shows exactly how worthless a Columbia education must be. And she tells Kelly that she's the most unintelligent person that she's ever been around.

Points on Bethenny's side:

1. Kelly doesn't know what eating crow means
2. When the other Housewives are talking about a wine shortage, Kelly exhorts them not to stomp the grapes as she planned to eat them.
3. She tells the other Housewives that they better not make lemons out of lemonade (and no, she's not being ironic)
4. She's proud of the ho-bag insult
5. Kelly was texting and mobile-phoning her every move to Jill and LuAnn, who opted not to go because they would both look like cottage cheese in bikinis

Apparently, Kelly is very proud of her Columbia degree (which she may have earned, but which is no credit to Columbia, as Kelly is as dumb as Formica) and believes that SHE HERSELF is not a ho-bag, despite the fact that her only claim to fame is marrying a fashion photog and staying married long enough to have Child Support Worthy Children. She's not a reporter, she's not an editor, she's just a girl whose sexual abiltiies captured the attention of an old guy with clout for a while. And actually -- I am not sure that she's a GIRL.

In fact, when Kelly was arrested for assaulting her boyfriend last year, the New York PD entered her as a Male. Also 145 pounds. That's a lot of Male!

Kelly is also being sued by a woman from Elle magazine who designed the Owl jewelry that Kelly claims to have designed. The fact that these are really ugly pieces of jewelry and that Kelly stole the idea is beside the point - some people have God-awful taste - the fact is Kelly has never had an original idea in her stupid life.

I mean, two daughters? My mother had two daughters and then an extra one to boot. THAT'S original.

Now, more about my mother - she likes LuAnn. I do not understand that, because my mother usually has fairly good judgment.

Mom -- how can you like a woman who claims to have class but who tongue-kisses a Flock of Seagulls look-alike in a crappy feel-good "we have drinks to change you mood" (who doesn't) bar in Chinatown? And then -- this seflsame woman CLAIMS TO HAVE CLASS.

Mother - if one of your daughters did that, you'd be very disappointed. Also, and I hate to tell you this, but I suspect that LuAnn has chipped nail polish.

Scum of the Earth Forces 9-Year-Old Son into Oven

A real winner named James Moss from Staten Island got a little annoyed with his little 9-year-old son Wednesday and devised a wee bit of punishment: he held the boy's hands over his stove's burner for two minutes, then forced the kid to get naked, smacked him in the face, hit him with a spatula, dragged him across the store and shoved him into his oven. All the while threatening to burn him alive.

First of all, if this guy is employed, the employer better get rid of him. People tend not to patronize businesses that employ MONSTERS.

Secondly, Monster Moss is now sitting in Riker's Island, of Law & Order fame. Hopefully, he is not so much sitting as bending over and being well, hospitable, to the lonely lads on the cellblock.

Now, the kid was rummaging through his dad's wallet, and if he stole money from him, he was wrong. However, there are many other ways of dealing with kids in this situation. I don't think that forcing him into an oven is a rational or even sane option.

Mr. Moss is right up there with another evil parent, Lynne Middlebrooks Geter of Meriwether County, Georgia, who forced her 11-year-old son to kill his pet hamster with a hammer because she was mad about a bad grade the kid had received.

You know - this kind of person really ups the argument for post-natal abortion (theirs, not their kids').

Bathroom Reading (if you are trying to vomit): Jill Zarin's Book of Stereotypes

I truly believe that when Secrets of a Jewish Mother was pitched, it was with the idea that the content would be clever and funny. It really wasn't. This book was banal and trite, and fairly chock full of ridiculous "witticisms" about how you can cheat your husband, outsmart your social colleagues, and generally feel smug and self-satisfied by repeating a pseudo-funny mantra or two to yourself.

The book is the by-product of the dubious fame garnered by Jill Zarin, a social climber one step away from her roots in the wholesale houses of less glamorous boroughs of the Big Apple who is one of the hausfraus on The Real Housewives of New York City, a very horrific show on Bravo which is tantamount to spray cheese: really lacking in value but interesting to watch.

Jill Zarin's name appears front and center at the bottom of the book cover, where Jill stands in all her middle-aged, air-brushed glory with her mother and her sister (the mother's name and the sister's name are teeny-tiny compared to Jill's, because this is all part of Jill's desperate attempt to make herself relevant). The book allegedly shares with readers all of the touching and heart-warming advice that has made Jill's family so successful and happy in their lives.

Among these include the advice to only marry a rich man even if you don't love him, marry a man who loves you more than you love him so that you'll always have the upper hand, and steal money out of your husband's pants when he is asleep.

I want to add that perhaps this snarky tone might have been less grating had Jill Zarin not negatively reinforced every piece of advice in the book with her odd rants and self-indulgent histrionics on the TV show that made it possible for someone like her to have a book in the first place.

Jill believes that reviewers are reviewing the TV show and not the book: I disagree with that assessment. This is an advice book, ostensibly written by someone whose life is so well-managed that the rest of us should take heed of her wisdom, experience and insight. Because of this, Jill's behavior is directly linked to the value of the book.

I have to point out that a lot of people don't buy Tiger Woods' products anymore, either.

THE REVIEW? Even without her bad actions, Jill's book is flat and smug, poorly written and carelessly edited -- this was clearly a project aimed at a speedy release to ensure that the Penguin Group cashed in on what surely will only be 15 minutes of reader interest.

E*Trade Baby Slams Lindsay Lohan - And Who Cares?

Apparently Lindsay Lohan is suing E-Trade because of its Superbowl ad in which the Main E*Trade Baby is cheating on his baby girlfriend, and the girlfriend asks about "Lindsay, that milkaholic."

Lindsay Lohan automatically assumed they were talking about her, and now she's suing.

Which is so stupid. Lohan has been seen drinking a lot, but Lindsay is a very common name.

Chill, bi-otch.

CSI Is So Stupid!

I have to say that my husband and I watch some pretty stupid TV shows. We have been fans (well, we watch it if it's on) of the Law & Order franchise, largely because it is so easy to watch after 9 p.m. -- no brains required, because the pontificating writers tell us exactly what to think. It has gotten to the point where we watch it for the time required and say, nonstop, this is really the worst one ever.

I also have to admit to a slight Goren crush. Goren was the guy from the Law & Order: Criminal Intent show, which we used to call Law & Order: Smart Guy. He had the advantage of having been good-looking and knowing about lots of cool subjects. He was also flawed, which appealed to that side of me which also used to think that Luke Skywalker was cuter than Han Solo. As if! But I could save him.

I was very sad about the way they killed off the two characters, Goren and Eames -- he got fired for being ethical but not rule-following in the face of Big American Government and she quit after she realized she was just a pawn in The Man's deal with the devil (or The Man). Politically, it was a flawed ending, and theatrically, it was a silly one. Perhaps the reason I hate it the most is that the super slimy and squirmy Jeff Goldblum replaced the Goren character -- introduced because of his relationship as the former partner of the super-Mike Brady-looking Capt. Danny Ross, the chief of D's. (detectives). Some interchangeable Law & Order chick replaced Eames, but I can't tell her from any of the other chicks on any of the Law & Order series.

Okay -- back to the point. The worst show on TV -- CSI. CSI Original (which in in Vegas) is annoying because of that black guy who looks like he should have played Data on Star Trek (not as cool as Mace Windu but not as lame as the Professor on Gilligan's Island) and that gap-toothed chick who thought she was all that when the show first started and then had to leave because someone disagreed and then came back because the guy who played the evil husband in Cousins quit the show.

CSI: New York is annoying because it is so pontificating and grey. Not gray, mind you, but grey. Like a one-hour version of Sleepy Hollow without the plot.

The worst of the worst? CSI: Miami. Oh, the agony of it. But it is SOOOOoooooo entertaining!

The whole thing looks like a British Petroleum green commercial. I want, when I see this show, to go to Vietnam and recycle. Half-naked babes in gold-ringed bikinis wander through, sucking in their tummies for the camera, and guys in striped shirts open at the neck with Porsches and Ferraris look intent on par-tay-ing. They women are all pathetic Bambis and the guys are all neanderthals -- unless, of course, they are in CSI.

The music -- it's like being in a 1980s music video before video got interesting.

Horatio flips his glasses and makes weighty, threatening one-liners. The Hispanic-looking guy struts and the weenie-who-got-promoted-to-vaguely-cute-guy channels Don Johnson. The women all wear white suits and 5-inch heels, and their hair swings wantonly above the crime scenes as they gather DNA evidence.

And all I can think is: were all the freakin' detectives busy? Was there not a single police officer available to check out the crime scene? Really?

This last week's episode was so God-awful, it was actually hilarious. The blond chick, the one who speaks with the baby voice that Dr. Laura says is often due to being tampered with by grown men as a child, runs wildly into a fire to save a kid (who looks to be about 30). The next we see her, she is wearing a white suit and no one pays attention to her. 

Because she's a GHOST!

And she can talk to the fire-ravaged kid, who is also a ghost!

In the most blatant of all crap script ripoffs, she is the GHOST WHISPERER.

It ends up that she is alive, which really disappointed me.

The Miami team all drives Hummers (which is kind of funny in itself, but also outrageous from a taxpayer POV) and none of them wear protective gear and none of them wait for Actual Police Officers to arrive on the scene. They all run shirtless and bulletproofvestless onto crimes in progress and dangerous Other Crime Scenes, and they sweat and talk and drip long hairs into their murder victims. Where are the protective suits (which obviously are not as sexy but which will save taxpayers billions in mistrials)?

And no -- it doesn't happen that way. They don't find a fingerprint on a tire tread and figure it out from there -- because that's not how it works.