Last week, before actually important news saturated the airways (I’m speaking, of course, of the atrocities aimed at innocent civilians in Paris that shocked everybody and Charlie Sheen’s tragic medical diagnosis that shocked nobody), Bravo updates were appearing in the press constantly. For a few days there it was impossible to go online and not see that two new Housewife shows are heading our way like an Earth-shattering comet and that Brooks, the smarmiest man ever to walk the streets of the OC, admitted to doctoring the documents he waved in front of cameras on his I Have Cancer press tour in a misguided effort to prove (through falsified medical records) that he indeed has been stricken with a deadly disease. But before anyone can say anything, let’s just all go ahead and accept that fine, Brooks might have fabricated those documents, but he’s totally not lying about anything else and he obviously has a disease (I think it must be the disease that causes his unceasing smirk that I’d love to kick off his … Continue reading →

There exists a world, it seems, where the highest aspiration one can possibly dare to dream is that one day you will become a server Sur, a Los Angeles restaurant that I think serves Mediterranean cuisine, but the only thing I’ve ever seen anyone order from the menu and then consume is a fried ball of goat cheese.

Now, I’m not a crazy person; there’s probably nothing more delicious than a fried ball of any kind of cheese, but I’m also pretty sure that it would be to the benefit of your immune system to never nibble from a morsel of food that has ever been handled by a few of the servers at Sur who also moonlight as the stars of Vanderpump Rules.

For the uninitiated, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nell Kalter, and I firmly believe that Vanderpump Rules, the spinoff of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills that airs Monday evenings on Bravo, is perhaps the greatest television program of our time. I feel relatively comfortable making such … Continue reading →