**Disclaimer: This is not my usual post. I’ve been watching Real Housewives on Bravo since the beginning. I watched the original Real Housewives of Orange County as it aired, and I’ve been addicted ever since. One time, I even stood with Vicki Dunvalson, ( and Don), and Jeanna Keough on the red carpet of the Emmy awards as they used disposable cameras while we all celebrity watched. I can’t help it. I am addicted, so when I found out the producers of Bravo were finally going to film a Real Housewives of Dallas, I vowed to watch and perhaps write about it, so here it goes.**
Real, according to Merriam Webster means “actually existing or happening. Not imaginary, not fake, false, or artificial.” So let’s see how real we can get in Dallas.
That’s right, friends, forgive me, but when it gets “real” on my turf, a girl’s gotta talk about it and see if these housewives can represent.
“That’s how we do it in Dallas.”
So let’s meet the wives.
Brandi is a former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader (they make like $13 a game) but stays far from the sidelines. She’s a full time mom who can’t do math, so let’s hope she doesn’t home-school. Her last name is Redman, and she has red hair. I’m going to stop there.
Tiffany states she is a hometown girl, a former model and has a British musician for a husband (who hates Texas, I’m pretty sure.) She’s done lots of coke and wears bandanas like Brett Michaels, which I must have missed the memo on because I didn’t realize it was cool again or ever.
Cary claims to be a trophy lifetime achievement award (she’s playing on trophy wife here but clearly she’s not too clever), which clearly shows her very low opinion of herself. She assists her husband in giving boobs to Dallas socialites and former cancer patients. So far, she’s my favorite.
Stephanie is the Stepford Wife next door who lives on the third hole of the Four Season’s Golf Course (which isn’t in Dallas), but if we looked closely at the thoughts in her head, we would see the cymbals playing monkey from Homer’s mind in the Simpsons. She can also fart on cue, so at least she has that going for her.
Leanne proudly announces she is a carnie kid or Stephen Tyler’s long lost daughter who isn’t a millionaire or a billionaire or married to a police officer.
Before we go any further, I feel like there are some things you should probably know about Dallas if you’re from out yonder before you get too involved in the Real:
1.The Dallas Cowboys are actually in Arlington and practice in Valley Ranch but are building a huge practice field in Frisco, which is north of Plano (which apparently is no Bueno according to Leanne.) Dallas is a general term, and I would be willing to bet at least one or four of these wives live outside of Dallas proper.
2. Dallas girls think we get better when we drink. (Some of us do.) Most of us call wine wine, not Jesus juice.
3. Go has two syllables. “Gowah” or “Gu-oh”
4. “Bless your heart” really means, “I’m sorry you’re an effing moron.” I want to say “Bless your heart” to Brandi, pretty much every time she speaks.
5. Dallas women have a look that we give each other. We know when we give it, and we know when we get it. It says “I hate you more than kale flavored brownies.” (I saw it more than a lot tonight. Mostly between Leanne and Brandi.)
6. We don’t all wear cowboy boots and listen to country music, but when we do, we look fabulous.
7. We do all say ya’ll, and it’s sexy when we do.
So now that we’ve gotten you hip to what is real in Dallas, let’s review whatever it was we just watched:
I have to say, this episode kind of fell flat for me. I expected something somewhat interesting. I mean, everything is bigger in Texas, right? But these girls were bland, and that is NOT the Dallas that I know and love. Dallas is full of vibrant women with big diamonds and even bigger personalities. Maybe it was because they were new and clearly not used to the cameras, but these ladies didn’t offer much, and not just because there isn’t one of them that has a brain. I mean…Where’s the Vicki Gunvalson, or the Lisa Vanderpump?
Clearly, Leanne will take the reigns as the feisty trouble making mouth of the group only to be challenged by the little ginger pistol, but even their drama seems forced. And boring.
They’re not even funny when they’re drunk, and everybody is funny when they’re drunk, right? P.S. Nobody thinks farting on demand is funny here. (Truth #8).
And the husbands…snore.
Honestly, where have all the cowboys gone? We have beautiful men in Dallas. Tall, dark and handsome men who are nice and chivalrous and say “yes, ma’am.” Where are all of the hot husbands? Hello, David Beador is handsome, but not Texas handsome, and these dudes aren’t even funny. Where, for the love of Dealey Plaza, is our Terry Dubrow?
AND…what about the handbags? I didn’t see a Birkin. I didn’t see Chanel. You know what I saw? I saw the same Louis Vuitton shoulder bag that every single stay-at-home mom in all of Frisco carries. Come on, girls. Do better.
I only hope the housewives strive for perfection in more than their Botox this season. I will watch every week because I must. They had me at Dallas, after all. It will get better, even if the previews didn’t prove that. It has to. It certainly can’t get any worse.
Until then, ya’ll come back now, and tell me if you watched, what did you think about the first episode? Who’s you’r favorite? Who do you hate? What do your cowboy boots look like?