My it’s been a busy gossip week. (Or maybe I’ve just been bored-refreshing my Google Now too much.)
All about bundles of joy, and also of unpaid cash.
“If you hold up a mirror, what do you see? Yourself.” — Angela Stone
We love to big-up unjustly maligned Housewives otherwise lost to history. Today, I rise in support of Angela Stone, the spectrum queen of Auckland. The public hated watching her. Her cast hated filming with her. But here at BWHQ, we were rapt. Hell, I love Ms. Stone enough to write up an entire post about her fat reduction infomercial. So buckle up, kids, because I’m gonna take you on a quick tour to Auckland (with routine stopovers in Christchurch) to convince you why you, too, should love THE face of New Zealand tourism.
If you’re anything like us/Vicki Gunvalson, you’re well aware of the Five Languages of Love that you need to fill a love tank. But every now and then, a visionary of the heart comes along to reinvent how we view affection. Click here to find out how you would express your feelings for your partner if you were lucky enough to wake up tomorrow as ball-and-gala girl/molly queen/Black-Jewish Kelly Killoren Bensimon figure/MaloofHoof fave Katie Rost.
Congrats, boo! That’s about 15 D’Agostino marriages. Below, we commemorate this momentous/momentum/monumental occasion by reminiscing over ten great moments from ten great Housewives, carefully curated via the random firings of my synapses.
Five episodes to watch while completing a child’s word jumble.
With several casualties being reported from the latest RHOC cast I’d like to take the time to consider the allegedly one-and-done Peggy Sulahian’s time on the show before she drifts off into the one season wonder abyss forever. How did the 100th housewife cast live up to this unique and arbitrary distinction? Let’s analyse.
If you can’t handle her sparkle, then good news: she’s fired! Or, if you wanna believe her personal blog, “quits.” Whatever you prefer. Balls voyage, Lydia!
Song for the occasion under the cut.
Everyone handles grief differently. Some fall into depression; others try to scam their way back onto national television.
Jill Zarin is of the latter class, using her dear husband Bobby’s death to launch a month-long flurry of oh-so-subtle press leaks that made her past output pale in comparison. Below, a post-modern tragedy in five gossip-rag acts.
Every Housewives fan has their favourite one-season wonders. It’s part of the joy of our obsession. Some of you think Jules Wainstein deserved another shot. Others know that Carlton Gebbia was misunderstood. Hell, there’s even someone out there who thinks Cindy Barshop was good. I would like this person to come forward so they may immediately be doused in holy water and guided through a regimen of repentant prayer. My Housewives hot take? I fucking love Kim Fields.