Bravo, Stop Trying To Sell Me Trash

I don't remember when I jumped on the Real Housewives train. And I guess it doesn't matter.  I'm not proud but I'm riding it.  I can give or take those crazy women from Atlanta and New Jersey but can't help but Hate Watch those dames from Beverly Hills.  Even though NONE of them are technically housewives.

I have no trouble watching them fake fight, pretend parent, or have faux "intimate" moments (though I REALLY don't need to see those, Bravo) but when you start using those women to sell me stuff - like I take them seriously - well, that's when I start to get offended.

Those ridiculous car ads with Kyle and her husband? I drove a Jeep Cherokee for 10 years - and LOVED it - but will never buy one again.  Sorry, Jeep.  And I had no plans to see 50 Shades of Grey but if I did, seeing Kyle and Lisa (and I like Lisa!) sitting on the couch talking about seeing it as a girl's night made me want to gag.  And not the kind of gag like from the movie.

Listen, Bravo, I will watch your trash, but I'm not going to pretend that it's anything but trash.  I'm not going to pretend that these women have anything to tell me about parenting, or shopping, or party-throwing, or flower arranging.  And I'm certainly not going to let them influence what I buy.  I watch them because they are ridiculous.  Let them sell their overpriced crap to each other, but leave me out of it.