Let’s be the Real Housewives

I'm too old for this tight mini-skirt that accentuates my paunch.

I'm in debt up to my false eyelashes, but I just paid $25,000 for these sunglasses. Can you believe it?

I'm the crude text passed around at my Ladies' Lunch.

I'm Posche, New Jersey's premium fashion boutique.

I'm on display, on display, on display.

I’m the Jersey Kims: Kim D. & Kim G.

I’m Danielle’s “square tit”.

I'm Sutton's face roller.

I'm the torn up hand of Kyle's daughter, courtesy of Kim's pit bull.

I'm the Louis Vuitton shoes that sound like a buffalo and/or Herman Munster coming down the stairs.

I'm Albie, and I'm still looking for the right girl. Wink wink.

I'm the tragic parking garage next door to Sonja's townhouse,

I’m the Obama era when the franchise was in its halcyon days - and to which all the references from the posts above belong. Back then someone showing up uninvited to the Brownstone or Kyle’s White Party would be a fascinating three episode arc. Nowadays it takes Federal charges to give a season some oomph and even those fizzle into listless over-produced nothingburger.

I'm criminal activity. I'm required to get anyone cast these days.

I'm the violation Crystal feels.

R10 I'm Louis Vuitton and even I make mistakes.

I’m Shane and Slade, just two heterosexual men living in the OC.

I'm eggs a la Francaise.

I'm cryotherapy. I make an appearance now and again.

I’m a Sprinter van.

I’m the first 3 seasons of OC, NY, NJ, & ATL, there was still a naivety that made it endearing. Now it’s just all like BH, people on the down slide hoping for one last pop of fame to shill a product and/or that per episode paycheck.

I’m the new super bright, super white set lighting on all the shows that make them unwatchable. Are we in Kyle’s kitchen or a Costco? We can’t tell either.

I’m a family van and I did it first, R20. I am the vehicular manifestation of all Vicki’s existential panic about being an objectively ugly woman in Orange County and if that means that for all her trophies for hawking insurance policies she is a loser, worthless and ultimately unloveable.

I'm the lemon grove filled with ticks.

I’m Vicki’s love tank, I’m empty.

I’m six lemons in a bowl.

I’m tardy for the party, oooooo ahhhh oooooo awwww ooooo.

I'm the wench Melissa saves during her rendition of "Amazing Grace."

I’m Gizelle’s freshman dorm at an HBCU decorating aesthetic. I’m objectively bad, but sort of endearing now that all cringey regional-specific interior decorating of the more house-proud housewives have been replaced with 50 shades of flattened instagrammy “modern farmhouse”.

I'm a Real Housewife of Potomac: I don't live in Potomac.

I'm the empty Ozempic boxes.

I’m the husband, maybe we should talk about him and what you don’t want us to talk about.

I'm Yolanda's medication closet, my loves!

R33 I’m Yo’s liver shot to shit from taking 137 supplements per day. Jaundice is setting in.

I’m Yolanda praying on her knees to the glass fridge that Gigi doesn’t get fat or catch lesbian from playing volleyball.

I'm the random Dutch guy that Yolanda dated who magically turned up when they decided to knock on the door of a windmill.

I'm Yolanda's Munchausen Syndrome.

I’m diseases, conveniently re-diagnosed to go along with trends.

[quote] I'm the torn up hand of Kyle's daughter, courtesy of Kim's pit bull.

I'm Kyle's other daughter Farrah, having sex with my step father Mauricio while my mom Kyle is on a fun girls trip!

I stole Kim's goddamn house.

I’m a big spicy Mexican burrito sliding in and out of a Tranny’s back taco. I’m located in the guest room when all other parties are on vacation. The burrito owner will engulf my big Tranny churro until he gets the sweet cream sauce too.

R41 is Mauricio or Eddie?

I’m a total, obnoxious cunt. Figure out which housewife I am. Good luck!

I'm the side hustle. This show will make me rich.

It will? won't it?

I’m the local psychic brought in by producers to deliver storyline exposition, private cast revelations from a psych eval and/or information from a Bravo PI. I usually appear halfway through a struggling season to stir up enough drama to make it through the episode order.

I’m “Here she comes, my bitch wife. She is such a cunt”

I’m known heterosexual Joe Gorga. Do you think Albie or Greg would top me?

I’m the class that money couldn’t buy you.

I'm the bunny, and I'm being given back.

I'm "You BEAST!"

I'm also "BEAST????"

I'm the bag of potato chips Doug crunches on to mercilessly taunt his fat wife Shannon.

I'm the live in gay brother and/or cousin.

live-in is probably a better way of writing.

Actually, I'm all of the clingy live-in relatives.

I'm the PROSTITUTION WHORE!

I'm the 50th restaurant we've been kicked out of for fighting...

R54 I’m “DO KEEP UP!”

Which seems to have filtered down to DLers.

I'm the poor Nacho chip being devoured by Shannon.

I'm the children and you better not talk about us!

R58 unless we’re boys who seem gay, then the pervasive, subtle homophobia of these cunts dictates that we must discuss it.

I’m Cedric. Do you think Lisa and Ken call me a “faggot” in private? Does Lisa grab her cigarettes and ask Ken if he wants a “Cedric”, then giggles?

I'm Giggy, and I'm so glad I'm dead because I hated those stupid outfits that bitch used to dress me up in.

I'm the piece of bread that Lisa needs to eat.

I'm the nearly fatal Santa Barbara snow.

I'm the fragrance line.

^Is it called: Desperate Cunt?

I'm the shitty decor in the Olive Garden courtesy of Dorit.

^Sorry. In Bucca di Beppo.

I'm the cheater brand.

I am NOT cheating on Kyle.

My name is Eboni K. Williams. My lecture series enlightened the entire nation about the evils of white privilege, resulting in my being voted " Most Popular" Housewife cast member of all time.