I started watching "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" because, honestly, my IQ was just way too high.
I mean seriously up there. What can I tell you? After watching every episode, I'm now officially as dumb as that brown, particlelike stuff you find outside and don't want to track inside the house. Rhymes with "wirt," I think.
It's nothing against the ""wives," two of whom are no such thing, which just exhausts me trying to figure that one out. Since when is a real "housewife" not even married? I don't get it. It would be like watching "Law & Order" and finding out the cops are really pole dancers and the lawyers are really electricians. I don't get it. Wait. I already said that didn't I? Who wants pie?
The housewives are completely diverse personalities, that is, if your idea of diversity is, every woman is loud, catty, big-haired or big-"bubbied" (that's their made-up word) or both and they make Fran Drescher's nasal "Nanny" sound like James Earl Jones.
There's Caroline, the matriarch who is kind of a low talker compared to the others. I can never quite make out what she's saying but it sounds a lot like: "If that whore lays her hands on my precious son, Albie, one more time, I'm going to dump her bony body in the Pine Barrens, I'm just saying, yada-yada, fuhgedaboutit, canolli."
To which her sister-in-law, Jersey wife, Jacqueline, the designated peacemaker of the bunch, will just say, "Anyways, who wants a mani-pedi and I really want to have a third baby despite the fact that I appear to binge-drink champagne in the middle of the afternoon. Anyways, don't judge me!"
Dina has a bored-by-it-all tone which makes me want to scream at her: "Nobody made you do this show, Blondie." Or maybe Caroline did. That's her big sis and she may have low-talk threatened her into it. Dina's one of the faux housewives. There is no Mr. Dina. She spends every episode sighing heavily and talking about how she doesn't have time for all the drama. Uh-huh.
Formerly flat-chested Teresa spent the first four episodes talking about how her simpleton husband, Joe, liked her the way she was and that was good enough for her.
But that doesn't make for interesting TV, so fast-forward to Joe instructing the plastic surgeon that Teresa should get the "full C's." Which she does. And now she no longer weeps while trying on bikinis with the girls in Atlantic City. Oy vey. And finally, there's faux wife Danielle, whom the others hate because she's kind of skanky and they are ALL a class act so it's middle school all over again except with way too much leopard print furniture. So, yes, I are much dumber now than when I started. Mission accomplice.
