Fake is the newest Real

The Real Housewives of Orange County make me Real Real (really) mad.

I don't know how many people actually watch the show, but it's worth it.

It's no RHO Atlanta....(sung: There's a Tightro-ohhhhpe,) but it's a beast all unto itself.

I don't know why I feel obligated to blog about it, but I mean shit.

It makes me want money.

There I said it.

I don't want to be one of these bitchy, soul-less zombies, but I want their money.

Is that so bad?

I would do more with it.

I would still shop at the Salvation Army and look for the 50% off tags.

I would still look for the cheapest thing on the menu so I could drink more.

I would still use my grocery store savings card.

In addition to this:

I would finally get to carry a designer bag that isn't 2nd-hand

I would sit in my beautiful house on my outdoor entertainment area and write, write, write

I would be able to allow myself to buy JUST ONE Betsey Johnson dress

I would still have a job but one I've always WANTED, like owning a Vintage store where I could help girls who can't afford it have an amazing prom!

However...

I would never be able to leave the house because if those women represented on the show were the people I would have to associate with, I might just turn into one of them.  

Now, 

that

aint

too

rich.

I think I'll stay poor and happy.