I’m calling this episode of Real Housewives of Dallas The Shituation. If you watched the show, you’ll understand why.

The episode centered around a  charity event benefiting the Dallas Arboretum called the Mad Hatter. It’s not as much of an Alice in Wonderland Tribute as it should be. In fact, I’m pretty sure these women didn’t even know that’s where the term originated, but I could be wrong. The plan was they were to wear a fabulous hat to a party at a flower garden and pay anywhere from $375 for a ticket (according to LeeAnne Locken) to thousands of dollars for a table, which if you’re smart like I am but she isn’t, you’ll do the math and figure out how much a table for six costs. $2,250 (or thousands. Whatever.) My point is that these social events are not the premiere events in Dallas. We have better. I promise, but at least it beats the Stella and Dot show they tried to pass off as a charity event last week. *rolls eyes*

Brandi, the former Dallas Cowboy cheerleader who is a stay at home mom in what is clearly a suburb of Dallas (if I had to guess, I’d say Plano and not just because my good friend is Maggie P.I.) chose to make her own hat. Your eyes did not deceive you. I promise this woman got a friggin hot glue gun and went to Hobby friggin Lobby and purchased the materials to use her own hands and make a hat.

Here’s my problem with this and so much that is happening on this show so far. I get that it’s called “The Real Housewives of Dallas,” but I don’t want to watch someone make a hat with a hot glue gun or I would watch a DIY show or get on Pinterest for Christ’s sake. *shudders* And furthermore, I’m used to the Real Housewives of Orange County and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills who actually go to expensive galas and pay copious amounts of money to charities and who would never even know how to use a hot glue gun or that said glue gun needs to be plugged into an electrical outlet. I don’t even know how to use one and I’m actually a housewife, kind of. I don’t want to see them being mommies or dealing with a toddler who has pissed his pants. I can deal with that shit (pun fully intended) at my home. I want unreal. I want spectacular. I want lifestyles of the rich and famous, not playdate at my neighbor’s house.

Anyway, Brandi chose to make her own hat for said charity gala and decided it would be a great idea to make a poop hat. I’m convinced the girl is obsessed with poop. Maybe she needs some probiotics. Or maybe it was Bravo’s idea since these girls are about as interesting as my philosophy professor in college who to this day, if I have trouble sleeping, I summon his voice in my head. But apparently if you want to get a rise out of the wives, you wear a poop hat to a pseudo charity event. She arrived with Stephanie (the housewife who lives on the third hole of the Four Season’s golf course) who wore a hat she purchased from the couture section of Wal-Mart, I’m pretty sure. My dead grandma wouldn’t be caught dead in it, and she loved tacky hats. (See what I did there?)

LeeAnne Locken, who had her hat professionally designed for at least the second year was not happy with the poop hat or the girl beneath it. She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips a couple hundred times and then tattled on Brandi to someone who I’ve seen on Fox 4 Good Day. I can’t remember his name, but apparently he’s important in Dallas.

Nothing was resolved. Nothing happened. They talked about poop. According to Andy Cohen of Watch What Happens Live, “It was a crap ton,” and the word “poop” was used in one hour (this is with commercials) twenty-six times.

“That’s the way we do it in Dallas.” NO IT’S NOT!

I have four older brothers. I can handle poop humor. I’ve been a victim of poop pranks and dutch ovens more times than I can count, but I grew out of that. Like most grown women. I’d much rather talk about sex. What is wrong with these girls?

Other happenings not centered around the Mad Hatter event: Cary’s kid she never knew she didn’t want spoke in a language nobody could understand but apparently knows Swiss-German, English, Spanish, and Swahili (I’m pretty sure this is what she spoke). Tiffany’s Australian Keith Urban husband doesn’t want to buy a house in Texas, especially from a real estate agent who answers the door in an over-sized cowboy hat, and Stephanie’s husband has fur coats and also probably labia instead of a penis, or maybe he’s a pimp.

In other news, this happened on Twitter today, so even if she is a bit of a shit show, she might be my favorite.

It was bound to happen.

I’m sorry to bore you with another recap. If nothing happens next week, I promise not to write another. What I am thinking about writing is a post called “Actual Text Messages I Sent to My BFF” which I promise are much more interesting than this show. What do you think? Is anyone else watching this show? Do you want to see my text thread history instead? Here’s one: “Yep, they’re her husband’s. Because he has a vagina. A very old one.”