the ocean

We should probably discuss the Real Housewives of New York. That's a sentence that, for many people, can induce vomiting, and those people should probably get out of here now, before it's too late. Go polish off your Utne Reader or something.

Okay, now for the rest of us. This season has been insane. We had John the Sweaty Dry Cleaner's sudden and utterly unprovoked attack at the bra party. We had the Berkshires Christmas Throwdown, which was so intense Bravo felt we constantly needed reminders as to how long it had been going on. We had Mohegan Sun, a girls trip so pathetic that we didn't even get actual confirmation that they truly stayed overnight there. And then we had Lu's engagement party and its aftermath, because any event worth its salt on Housewives will naturally have aftermath. God, I'm exhausted just writing about it.

And of course the vaginal bleeding. We can't forget all of the vaginal bleeding.

It seemed to me like this was the season where they finally admitted that our ladies have aged a bit now, even though their many procedures have ensured that the opposite appears true on their faces. There were lots of trips to medical appointments and home decorating stores. There were lots of ample noshes. And there was settling. Lots of lots of people settling for what was, I guess, good enough for now.

It was fairly thrilling, as television goes. I wish there'd been a new song, but we can't have everything. And I'm still coming down from the high of the Southern Charm theme song, anyway.