This is not normal.
Though I am morally against the very existence of “reality shows,” I totally tuned into Real Housewives of Orange County last week. OMIGOD, who didn’t?
The Bravo network depends on three things to stay afloat: Project Runway, Top Chef, and momentary scandals in the spotlight via their trashier reality shows. Since PR isn’t in season at the moment, I left the now-standard mini-marathon of Top Chef running in the background last week. The result? Scintillating “Watch what happens” Real Housewives commercials every fifteen minutes.
Every fifteen minutes, a flouncy, sloshed Gretchen Rossi rubbed her ass up and down on Tamra Barney’s son, 20-something Ryan. There was mention of Mother Tamra having premeditated the situation just a slight bit, but they didn’t describe how much. With such ambiguity in the air and the promise of a tabloidy Tuesday night, I actually punched in Bravo’s digits to get in on the action.
So the whole plot of the episode was Tamra schemes to get Gretchen drunk, and Ryan finds Gretchen attractive, so now what? The goal for us viewers was to find out whether or not Gretchen banged Ryan, but – wouldn’t you know it – Bravo made a smart annoying move and cut things to “To be Continued” right before we could hear more of the would-be couple’s lush-y conversation from beyond the closed door. Maybe Bravo is that threatened by reruns of Obama’s inauguration and analysis tonight, but whether or not Change is more of a ratings stealer than Skank is yet to be reported.
My fascination with the setup is partly with Gretchen, but since having seen a couple of episodes, now it’s mostly with Ryan. I’m not fascinated by Ryan. I’m fascinated by what a complete and utter douchebag he is and how I would totally never tap that. Gretchen! WTF! He called you a “smokin’ hot girl” in his package, and I, too, believe that you could pretty much get any blonde-loving loser you wanted. But if a guy ever called me “smokin’ hot” I would respond by asking him what the Hell he’s smoking. Ryan has to be the cheesiest character on all of Real Housewives. And he’s not even a character of interest.
Please stop. Your hair.
I don’t really care if he or his mother are natural blondes, but he’s got this spiky blonde-ish hair that looks like a hedgehog born in Maxim Hair Dye.
Really, though, “nugget” just makes me think “dookie.”
In a recent episode, Ryan gets a tattoo inside his lower lip which is just way too jailbitch/underbelly of douchebaggery to me. The word he branded himself with was “nugget” – which might be kind of funny in a self deprecating way if he meant “nugget,” as in, “I am a gold nugget for all you gold diggers out there. I am young and so is my money, at least when I can dive into my mother’s purse and access it.”
According to the really awkward conversation aired between his mother and him, however, the truth comes out that Ryan had impregnated his ex. When his ex and him saw the sonograms of the would-be baby, they said it reminded them of a chicken nugget. CHICKEN NUGGET. If there is one thing I would not burned into the tissues of my mouth, it is a reference to an unborn baby that – thank goodness – was eventually aborted.
Other sources tell me “nugget” also refers to marijuana. Well, doesn’t everything? Whether it’s grapes, purple, or nuggets, in my opinion only total d-bags get anything tattooed into their upper lips consciously and without any gang affiliations.
In which you do not deserve a job.
Apparently Ryan had always wanted to grow up and become a police officer, and even went through the motions of California Highway Patrol education and testing. Details are fuzzy about him doing well on the test or even passing, but in two minutes Bravo reveals that he received two tickets in one week and thus no longer wanted to join the CHP. This story he tells over drinks at a bar where he actually performs the “come hither” motion to a random blonde chick. Like a fool, she comes over, probably signed the liability form for the cameraperson, and then sits there awkwardly looking at absolutely nothing as Ryan diarrheas at the mouth.
If I were a CHP recruiter I would not let Ryan join the CHP, let alone any reality television D-lister. If I recognized him in that tan and brown uniform, I’d probably just run into him. (Kidding!)
The more I think about it, the more I’m just amazed at how much losertude one man can possess. Here’s Ryan, going after tail like he doesn’t know the consequences of an ex’s abortion which he aligned with a McDonald’s value meal food. Here’s Ryan, hitting on women directly in front of his mom, even raising a hand when drunken Gretchen slurred for someone to “cleanse her palette.” Forgive me for never having been brought up in a white trash home, but gross!
If Gretchen bangs him, I’d be amused, but I’d be more concerned about the STDs festering in her nether regions than in the sheer fact that she had relations with her frenemy’s son.
And that is how I am going to spend my first night of Obama’s presidency.
I have hope that when Jeff, Gretchen’s fiance, kicks the can or the proposal, she will go for someone cuter with a slightly lesser mastery at being a lowlife.
This needs to be the last night that I watch this show.