Beauty and The Feast

I have an addiction to Bravo.  (The channel, not the exclamation.) 

The constant barrage of cooks and comedians, housewives, hairdressers and supermodels keeps me glued to my couch for the better part of the the day.  I love the drama, the catty girl fights, the bitchy boy fights, the hair-pulling, celebrity gossip and good old fashioned stab-you-in-the-back antics of the uber rich. 

I make no apologies for my reality TV fetish. It is my guilty pleasure, and I indulge in it with joy gulf glee.  That is, until last night.  I was home on a rare night off and sat down to finally watch the Top Chef finale I had been saving on my TiVO. It was so good, I resolved to push my luck and follow it with the reunion show of The Real Housewives of Orange County.  The season has been a tumultuous one -- full of everything from underage drinking, life after a divorce and battling leukemia. 

These skinny bitches were dealing with a lot, but somehow managed through it all to prosper while climbing the rungs of high society in Orange County. So, it's the reunion and Andy Cohen is doing his best to get the juice on who said what and why, when he comes to a segment dealing with Gretchen, the newest cast member and infamous gold-digger of the bunch. He makes a comment about her being like a character out of All About Eve or Florence Nightingale. She chirped, "Florence Nightingale? Who's that?"

Andy replied, "Well, Certainly you know All About Eve?"

"Eve like Adam and Eve?  That Eve?" Gretchen retorted.

Is this for real?  Can you be that beautiful and that stupid an the same time?  Do the words cultural literacy mean anything to you?  Isn't education a privilege of wealth anymore?  I can almost understand not knowing All About Eve, but Florence Nightingale? Didn't this woman attend 3rd grade? These housewives are making me hungry, so I switch over to The Biggest Loser. 

Now this is good TV.  Take 30 fat people, bring them to a ranch, take away food and replace it with 20-mile hikes. The drama just writes itself!  It gives me flashbacks of the all-girls fat camp I attended in 5th grade. They put 15 girls in a cabin and took away salt and condiments. I was running the under ground black market outta my bunk selling ketchup packets for five bucks each.  I made over $200 that summer. 

That's like a million dollars to a 10 year old. I bought my first Atari with that money.  I kissed a girl that summer, learned to tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue and shaved my legs for the first time.  I kept faking swimmers ear because I had a wicked crush on the camp nurse. She was my Florence Nightingale, and though she wasn't from Orange County, she did always give me oranges when I got overheated, and she was always quick to pull back my hair and put an ice pack on the back of my neck.  Heaven.

I finished off my reality TV marathon with a bucket of Ben N Jerry's and American Idol.  Finally, a show about skill, and a fantastic Phish Food feast. Delicious!

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