Okay, so things fall apart, the centre cannot hold, and mere anarchy is loosed upon the world; we can still always, always count on OC reunions being fucking amazing.
AKA The Passion of St. Shannon, Pt. LXVII.
Stock up on your cannabis-infused blueberries, y’all; it’s on.
Grab your whips and tighten your corsets, Witches; it’s finale time.
Team Geriatrics (okay fine I’M OLD are you happy).
It’s stated Bitchy Witches policy that No RHONY Seasons Suck, but which are orgasmically wonderful and which merely good? As tantalizing details about S11 emerge, let’s take a journey back through a decade of statement necklaces and cremated dogs.
We have a deleted Instagram, folks!
Whistler’s Mother (1871).
Sorry for the delay on this one, but I always need to take some time alone to *process* whenever Shannon Beador’s been attacked.
I mean, it is The Shannon Show, but point taken, Gina.