My Application to Become a Real Housewife

To Mr. Andy Cohen, Senior Vice President of Original Programming and Development for Bravo:

It was reported on Wednesday that reality star and ray of sunshine, Camille Grammer, may not be returning to my favorite Housewives – Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

Part of me was devastated. Grammer can’t leave RHOBH! She’s to RHOBH what Murdock was to the A-Team – the star who brings the necessary craziness needed to make the show complete.

On the other hand, I thought – awesome! Now’s my chance to stake my claim to be a Real Housewife.

I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Cohen. I'm neither rich nor a Beverly Hills homeowner. In fact, I’ve never stepped my Payless-swathed foot  in Beverly Hills. Well, I don’t think my residence is that important.

Mr. Cohen, you’re from right here in St. Louis – you have the power to help a local girl out, right? And if I have to live in Beverly Hills during the casting session, I just happened to find a Travelodge two miles from the 90210 that I can get for $79 a night from Travelocity.

But most important, Grammer and I have so much common that I feel I could just slip into her spot and no one would notice. Not only do Grammer and I both have two kids and super fun cases of IBS, but our lifestyles are eerily similar:

1. Grammer was a dancer on Club MTV. I, too, am known for throwing on pink Lyrca and performing the running man to Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock’s “It Takes Two.” Except my pink Lycra is four sizes bigger, and I need a can of Crisco and a pair of salad tongs to shimmy into it.
2. Anyone who has watched RHOBH has observed the creepy flirtation between Grammer and her tennis instructor, Nick. Well, Mr. Cohen, I have an entire staff of hot men who step in for my husband as needed – Ben & Jerry, Otis Spunkmeyer, Ronald McDonald. They’re insanely hot and always at my beck and call.
3. Grammer has a house manager named Nicole. I have a house manager too. She’s easily identifiable because she’s a bottle of Riesling and a stack of Post-it notes.
4. My husband might not be a world-famous T.V. star, but he has been known to hang out a bar where everybody knows his name and he also does not know what to do with tossed salad and scrambled eggs. Of course I’m worried about a 20-something British flight attendant turning his head, but I can only see him meeting said flight attendant if a British Airways jetliner actually crash landed on our couch.
5. Like Grammer, I think it’s inhumane to expect a family of four to live in a 3,000-square-foot apartment. Those conditions are deplorable. Deplorable! There’s absolutely no room for my closet of lingerie and my house manager is forced to sleep on the kitchen counter as opposed to her bed spun from 24-carat gold and panda bear eyelashes I had flown in from China.

So, what do you think, Mr. Cohen? I may not throw $50,000 birthday parties for four-year-olds like Taylor or own a Las Vegas casino like Adrienne, but if you need someone to hang out with psychics and turn dinner parties into catfights, I’m your girl.

Sincerely,
Nicole

By Nicole Plegge, Lifestyle Blogger for SmartParenting