The Real Housewives of DC Review: There Goes The Neighborhood

Before diving into Bravo’s latest “housewives” experiment, let me share with you two of my strongest-held convictions:

1. Washington, D.C., our nation’s capital and Poptimal’s home base, is a great, vibrant place to live and work.

2. Washington, D.C. has, unquestionably, a huge number of asshats.

I urge you to keep this in mind as we embark on our RHDC adventure together. On with the (first two) shows!

Mary, our first housewife, was born and raised in D.C. and believes she has never left.  Mary apparently lacks basic geography skills, as she lives in McLean, Virginia, which is not in Washington, D.C. [Sidenote: when this show was announced, Ference asked me who on earth in D.C. would actually agree to be on this show. I answered "Northern Virginians."  Yup.]  She says, quite proudly, Colin Powell lives across the street.  [Additional sidenote: one of the qualities unique to D.C. asshats as opposed to your NY/NJ asshats is that the D.C. asshat covets proximity to political power like a NY/NJ asshat covets a luxury spirit endorsement.  It's that unique combination of social climbing and windbaggery that makes happy hours at our local bars really, really lame.]

Mary’s dad was a lobbyist (of course) and her grandfather was a friend of President Johnson.  “I have fond memories of hanging out in the Kennedy house,” Mary interviews, in a way that sounds more pervy than she probably intended.  Mary’s got five very well-groomed children, and a 24-year marriage to Rich, who owns a perplexing collection of brightly colored pants.  Kinda awesomely, Mary has a biometric lock on her closet door to keep her daughters out of it.  I know I’m supposed to find this ridiculous. . . .but I actually kinda covet it.

Lynda is our second housewife.  She runs the top escort service modeling agency in D.C.  It has a very unique client list (cough, cough). She’s been divorced twice, and is currently getting schtupped by a young, handsome, black man named Ebong.

Speaking of black, Stacie, our third housewife, is here to remind us that D.C.’s nickname is Chocolate City, by which she means D.C. is one of the few American cities that has been majority black since its creation.  She speaks reverently about Barack Obama, because that is what black people do.  (Seriously, you should come to one of my family dinners.)  She lets us know that she met Obama when she was in business school.  (Ha!  I met him running a grassroots health organization in Chicago, Illinois.  So there, Stacie!)  Stacie is a real estate agent, and tells us you have to have money to live in D.C.  Since Stacie’s definition of D.C. appears to be its northwest quadrant, I’m sure that’s true. Stacie is married to Jason, and they have two kids, Catherine and Jacob, who are admittedly quite adorable.

Cat, our fourth housewife, is British, and the most promising asshat of this particular group.  (More on that later.)  She’s married to Charles (although they have since split).  Charles is a White House photographer.  Completely unsurprisingly, she’s “writing” a book.

Michaele is the fifth housewife.  Perhaps you’ve heard of her? Michaele was the “average normal girl who modeled” until she met her husband Tareq, who took her from that godforsaken life and made her a happy free-loader.  They allegedly live in Virginia wine country, only they stay in hotels all the time where they allegedly pay their bills.  The opening episode begins with an event hosted by Michaele and Tareq — something called America’s Polo Cup.  While there, Michaele squeals and hugs people, name drops as much as possible, and talks to a remarkably unstylish lobbyist wearing a very large hat.  Meanwhile, in a camera interview, Lynda tells us that Michaele is unprofessional and doesn’t pay her employees.  Lynda says that she has no desire to go back to “that goat rodeo.”  (I’m pretty sure that Lynda’s going to be my favorite housewife of this batch.)

Besides “America’s Polo Cup,” the first episode covers two separate events:  First, Ebong throws a party for Mary for her birthday.  Mary invites Michaele at the last minute, which Lynda does not think was very smart, because Michaele is on the “second tier level.”  Okay Lynda, you get points for disliking Michaele, but then you lost them all and then some for being a complete snob about it.  At the party, Michaele makes a point of telling Stacie that she’s going to the black caucus.  And then, lest Stacie forget the important function her skin color plays in these social events, Mary deliberately sits Stacie next to her black hair stylist friend, because she totally knows they’re going to be good friends.  Then, Mary, later in the evening and clearly wasted, tells her two black guests that salons need to integrate, cause although black and white women have different hair needs, we should all be getting our hair taken care of at the same place.  Stacie just gives a patient, tight-lipped smile, mentally noting to add this to her drunk-white-girl stories to relate when she gets her hair done this week.

The last event is a dinner at Stacie’s house with Cheo, Janet Jackson’s personal chef.  Stacie’s black friends show up as well as Cat and Mary.  The lowest moment of this dinner is not the Tyra Banks remark that will get hyped in all the press coverage, but a moment when Cat takes out her phone that has a picture of her husband Charles with Joe Biden, and all the ladies gather around it and swoon over this blatant showing of access.  Barf.  Seriously, barf, barf, barf.

Anyways, back to the Tyra Banks moment: when asked about some of the people Cheo’s cooked for, he mentions Tyra Banks, causing Cat to make a face and declare that she hates Tyra Banks.  She then does a Tyra impersonation that was 1) not funny, 2) not accurate, and 3) quite offensive.   To be sure, I don’t think she meant to be; I don’t think she understands how she looked.  But Cat?  Honey, if you’re going to dance in American political circles, you’re going to have to learn much, much faster how to navigate America’s unique racial sensitivities.

Following Cat’s “you go girl!” impression, the room got awkward.  To her credit, Mary looks embarrassed.  But Cat, either not knowing or not caring, plunges ahead, moving the topic to Charles’ photography of Obama and Bush.  She goes on to say, as far as I can understand, that Bush is a better man than Obama is because Bush RSVP-ed to her wedding, or something.

Stacie’s not happy.  She interviews that Cat made the evening about her, and it does look that way.  Basically, Cat is just incredibly, nearly unbelievably, rude.  And, as an added nuisance, I can’t understand a word her children say whenever they’re on screen.

In episode 2, we learn that Michaele is 44, but people think she’s in her 30s.  Judging from the name she gives her horse, “Sparkle,” she wants to be in her tweens.  I gotta say, Michaele does look pretty good for 44, although she’s got starving African child arms.  Seriously, Lynda is right — Michaele is waaaaaay too skinny.  Lynda tells their mutual friend, Paul Wharton, who I know as that guy on our local CW channel who always interviews the America’s Next Top Model losers, that Michaele needs a burger, like, stat.  So, naturally, Paul tells Michaele that Lynda said that she thinks Michaele needs a burger, like, stat.  (Frankly, I’d add fries and a shake, and maybe some pizza with pepperoni to that order.)  Michaele thinks Lynda should just come to her with these concerns.  Meanwhile, Michaele is planning Paul’s birthday party, which she will host and “pay” for, and which she is planning to be far more fabulous than the party Lynda threw for Paul the previous year.

In other scenes, Cat visits Michaele at the Salahi ranch to ride horses, which they pinky swore to do in episode 1.  Cat asks Mary to come with her to see the crazy skinny lady, which they do, in their jeans and comfy clothes.  Michaele, meanwhile is wearing jodhpurs, despite the fact that she doesn’t actually ride horses.  She’s just that type of person, you know?

Anyways, Tareq gives them a lesson in polo, and they kinda aimlessly ride around the field kinda sorta almost knocking the ball around.  Mary has fun, though, as she actually knows how to ride.  Afterwards, they drink wine beer, which causes Cat to say something snotty, the substance of which I’ve forgotten except it made me roll my eyes and reach for my own (probably much cheaper) beer.

In further Cat-is-pretty-much-a-bitch news, she and Mary go out for lunch, and Mary complains about her daughter, Lolly – and let’s just pause for a moment over the fact that Mary’s daughter’s name is “Lolly”. . . . . . . . – who has recently returned home with her 150 lb Bernese Mountain dog, who poops in the yard and sheds hair all over the place.  Lolly (Lolly!) works where they are eating, and Cat takes this opportunity to mock Lolly and chide Mary for being a pushover, which she does quite rudely.  Mary looks pissed, but doesn’t say anything. I’m hoping for a public Mary v. Cat child-rearing showdown, à la Alex v. Jill in our future.

Episode 2 also brings us Stacie’s second dinner party.  Only this time, Stacie’s decided to hell with having these heifers in her own home — they’re going to her Aunt Francis’ home for a southern-style home-cooked meal.  Stacie tells her husband Jason, more or less, she wants to invite all these white people over to a black home and let them be the minority for a change.  I totally love this, as it gives me an entirely new way to make passive aggressive use out of my friends and family.

Cat is the first to arrive.  She is greeted warmly at the door by several members of Stacie’s family, giving her an excellent opportunity to return the greeting and perhaps even give them a nice hostess gift.  Instead she says “I’d love a drink, please” as though she were speaking to The Help.  She is directed to a wine bottle, which she opens and pours, sniffs derisively and then informs anyone in earshot that it’s bad.  In contrast, Paul Wharton arrives next, is warmly greeted by several members of Stacie’s family, who he gives big hugs and returned warm greetings.  He also brings out the best side of Aunt Francis: upon being asked by Paul “what are you drinking” Aunt Francis replies, “Everything I can.”  Someone give Aunt Francis her own show, please!

While Cat wanders around the home, looking a little lost, without a clear path to brown nose (I kinda wish Jason had told her he was Craig Robinson, so at least she wouldn’t have felt she’d wasted her whole evening), Lynda is having a grand ole time.  She’s got soul food and Ebong, who is getting quite the second look from the women of this household.  Ebong, meanwhile, finds himself in a conversation with Jason and Rich about penis size.  This conversation comes complete with references to feet and hands, and even includes a reference to a patented penile measuring device.  Rich, as the white guy, gets uncomfortable.  No, I’m not putting words in his mouth; Rich says that as the white guy, he’s kinda uncomfortable.  But he says it with a sense of humor.  I think I might like Rich a little bit.

Cat leaves early, before the peach cobbler.  A travesty on multiple levels, really.

Our last event of episode 2 is Paul’s birthday party.  Michaele, the professed host of the party, is kind enough to not show up on time, and to arrive in a white stretch limo with police escort when she does.  She wears a white sequined dress, gives a speech, squeals as her husband sprays champagne on Lynda’s dress, and then confronts Lynda for saying Michaele should eat a cheeseburger.  Lynda is like, whatever, I don’t really care; I can say whatever I want to about you, you too-skinny freak.  Still enjoying Lynda, I am.

So far?  Kinda enjoying this D.C. travesty.  ‘Till next week, y’all.

To see what happens when Poptimal writers visit RHDC parties, click here.  For more Real Housewives coverage, click here.  Follow the Poptimal writers on Twitter @poptimal.

Season 1, Episodes 1&2: Welcome to the District & Disloyal to the Party (originally aired August 5 & 12, 2010)

Thursdays at 9/8c on Bravo.

Images courtesy of Bravo and Stephen J Boitano.