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Being a Texan and a die-hard Real Housewives fan (not proud), I have been waiting and waiting for my lord and savior Andy Cohen to bring a franchise to the Lone Star State. Obviously, the only suitable city to showcase a bunch of batshit crazy middle-aged women who can’t move their faces is Dallas. Having lived in the Big D (that’s what people call it there, okay, that is not from my mouth) for two years myself, the only thing these women love more than sneaking their kid’s ADHD meds to lose weight is flaunting their wealth while pretending to be classy and somewhat sane. I spend multiple nights a week watching these trainwrecks while pouring $3 Trader Joes pinot down my throat wondering when I should start getting botox myself. So I bring to you, the first episode of the Real Housewives of Dallas.
We start the episode by meeting Brandi, a former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, because of course there is a former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Shocker. Her voice makes me want to put this on mute and read captions the entire hour. She tries to talk about how much she loves Dallas but can’t actually do the math in her head to count how long she has lived in the city.
We meet Brandi’s husband who is extremely dad bod boring, and her two little ginger kids who are climbing all over her granite countertops like it’s a damn jungle gym. You people are gross. Brandi goes on to talk about her glory days as a DCC (Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader for you squares) and, of course, we see a montage of photos of her in her little blue and silver outfit. But don’t worry, none of it compares to being a ~mom~ and ~wife~ to her ginger babies and high school sweetheart. Vomit.
(Actual text I received from my mom as I am watching: “that Brandi is annoying.” So there we have it. Ten minutes into this shit show and we have already pinpointed the annoying one that I will talk shit about all season.)
Next, we meet LeeAnne and Tiffany, the token brunettes. They are shopping in a store that looks nothing like Neiman Marcus and I am confused, until I realize they are in a high-end thrift store looking for ~vintage couture~ that probably costs about as much as my rent. And it’s old and dusty. Gross. Tiffany, who I am calling now as LeeAnne’s minion and sidekick, claims that LeeAnne is “like the mayor of Dallas” which instantly has me thinking that LeeAnne is the Regina George HBIC of this series thus springing her to #1 in my heart and potential series MVP.
LeeAnne: black is OUT!! And whoever said orange is the new pink is seriously disturbed.
LeeAnne starts talking about herself and reveals that she grew up a “carny kid,” whatever that means. I instantly imagine her as a young Phoebe Buffay mugging people at carnivals. She also talks about her charity and philanthropic work for about five minutes too long. We get it. You like charities. And parties. You are so great.
Same.
Up next, we meet Cary who actually has a job! But she is a nurse and works for her husband who is a plastic surgeon. Because of course he is. You cannot have a Real Housewives franchise without a plastic surgeon husband who does at-home botox and chemical peels. Jealous. Cary tells us that she was married twice before she married her husband, Mark, and that Mark and his family actually attended her second wedding.
Mark: Yeah it was weird AF.
Now we meet Stephanie, who is ginger Brandi’s best friend and I hate her already. We learn that Brandi calls wine “Jesus Juice” which makes my skin crawl, and yup, hate them both.
Somewhere Tamara Barney and Alexis Bellino from Orange County are face deep in their Jesus Juice wishing they had thought of this sooner.
Just when you think we have seen it all, this bitch Stephanie reveals that in order for her husband to give her money, she has to complete a list of chores that he leaves for her each day. Her husband actually pays her to do chores so she has spending money. The task of the day is to program a garage door opener. Not rocket science. These bitches can’t even open the ladder but #respect to Steph’s husband for believing in her. I would have already hired someone to come and do it for me, and as I typed that, Stephanie says she is going to call someone to do it for her. I am basically a housewife.
Essentially, Brandi is the bitch that thinks she is absolutely hilarious but doesn’t realize that everyone is laughing at her and not with her. She just talked about poop and farts for a solid 30 seconds and she is a grown-ass woman who also makes this face when talking about how “goofy” she is:
Enter Stephanie’s husband who is exactly what I imagined he would be and the chores instantly make sense. Playa needs to move to the Housewives of New Jersey ASAP. He has definitely punched a hole in wall before.
Just a couple of kids who like to fuck, tryin’ to make it honest. I get it…
Tiffany’s husband, Australian Aaron, is a musician while she is a former model because you can’t have a Real Housewives franchise without a former model too. If only she was married to the plastic surgeon, not Keith Urban. He starts playing the guitar and I start to fast forward. Yawn City.
We find out LeeAnne is dating a regular Joe police officer (who also happens to be my aunt’s high school boyfriend so I am basically friends with a Bravolebrity) so good for her. She spends another 10 minutes talking about herself and how charitable she is and all I can think about is how her blush is so heavy she looks like a geisha queen. Someone needs to tell her.
They then take us to the “No Tie Dinner” that is held at Marie’s house. What the fuck is a “No Tie Dinner”? Who the fuck is Marie? Her house is fabulous but her husband’s name is Angel so I’m not so sure she is coming out of this on top.
Tiffany’s husband is so Keith Urban I cannot stop laughing.
Stephanie comes up to Brandi and is like, “So I told Cary about the hilarious impersonations that you do of LeeAnne and Tiffany” and Brandi is like:
Here we go. The first drama of the season. Which is all because Stephanie is an idiot with loose lips who doesn’t understand that she is at a charity event and is essentially talking shit about the hostess. Great job! LeeAnne is all “c’mon show me the impersonation” and Brandi is just like “I’m chill” and this banter goes on for some time before Brandi asks to speak to LeeAnne in private.
LeeAnne: k.
Brandi apologizes and I get upset because that is not why I watch these shows. I don’t want to see you fight and then apologize. I want you rip out each other’s throats with your perfectly manicured fingers and pull each other’s extensions out. Then Brandi says to LeeAnne “I am worried about you” and something along the lines of “I think you are a pathetic person” and my engines turn back on and I. Am. Here. For. This.
LeeAnne sits in silence while Brandi goes on and on about she thinks LeeAnne uses charity work to shine a spotlight on herself and thinks that instead of these elaborate events, they should just donate the money to the charity. Hot damn, Brandi, I didn’t realize you had a brain.
They get up each go on their separate ways, LeeAnne to go punch something (probably), and Brandi and Stephanie go talk about poop and farts like the classy ladies they are.
Can’t wait for next week! .
Image via YouTube
I started watching the Bachelor after recaps. Not sure this show is going to have the same outcome.
3, 5, 2, 1, 4. Haven’t read the article yet.
Halfway through. Not going to finish.
This is why I don’t own a television.
Reality t.v. might be doing more harm to humanity than Trump, pollution, and ISIS.
I have no idea what Real Housewives is about, and I don’t know what the hell I just read. I… I think I’m going to go do some actual work now.
Username checks out.
I’d suggest a drinking game of taking a drink every time any one of them says “charity” but I don’t want anyone to die of alcohol poisoning. Although if it’s “Jesus Juice” maybe they’ll be saved.
I live in Atlanta and feel your pain. I can’t watch Real Housewives of Atlanta, it really hurts my sense of pride for my state.
Dallas as a city is shit, Dallas MILFs are insane. I’ve seen first hand a lady call my best friend from a blocked number one morning with the “you might want to get checked” line. I’ve also had a lady stick her hand into my pants at the bar, while her husband was in the bathroom. I don’t say this to brag, I say this to warn anyone not from Texas…don’t move to Dallas.
So did you hook up with the handsy one?
Your reverse psychology won’t work on me. Just Googled “cheap Dallas apartments.”
Was going to type a long response bashing people who move here and then bitch about it, but forget that. Just stop moving here. It’s getting too damn crowded.