There is truly nothing about them that is either “Real” or “Housewife”. Not one of them performs any task(s) in their home that can be construed as a housewife activity. Actual “Real Housewives” have extremely difficult and stressful jobs taking care of both their homes and their families. Sorry you hussies, but making an appointment for your nanny to pick up your rotten children is not a job. Rather, the women who do the jobs cleaning the houses your husbands bought should have their own show – “The Real Hard Working Women of Orange County.”
Basically, you pay someone to clean your house, take care of your children, and run your lives while you go get drunk with your sperm receptacle friends to discuss what is the most recent gift your husbands bought for you. Trust me, the Botox injections, fake boobs, disgusting bunion laden feet, ridiculous Oompa-Loompa tans, and horrible personalities are nothing short of repulsive. Seriously, have you ever lifted a finger to clean your home? I doubt it. And honestly, the money you spend on all of these luxuries truly isn’t your own. You married a man who either made something for himself, or more than likely, inherited money from dear old dad.
This travesty is such a disservice to the millions of women who work incredibly hard days giving themselves to their family and to their homes. Orange County is the perfect breeding place for the petri dish of human waste. I’m not too sure what their husbands truly think of their wives, perhaps if we asked their mistresses we would get an honest opinion. Oh, and if you think they aren’t cheating on their high cost prostitute wives I have a perpetual motion machine that generates diamonds out of thin air I would like to sell you!
So who is truly to blame here, the vacant, soulless women? The rich, emotionally bankrupt, I care more about my watch collection, I have tiger’s blood, look at me, husbands? Perhaps even their parents for not instilling anything that resembles a moral compass within their black little souls. I don’t know. But at some point in their daily drunken stupor they have to look in the mirror and realize that there is absolutely nothing staring back at them. No, you are not a vampire, you are simply a lost spirit floating on a sea of narcissism. Is there any saving you? I don’t know. But trying to be the loudest, most obnoxious, fake fat lip, wall ass, chicken neck, lush in Orange County is not the way to do it!