It takes a very special form of bile-spewing creature to make it into the Top Five Worst Housewives of All Time in less than a season, but Kelly Dodd – assh*le extraordinaire – has managed to reach that pinnacle. She’s already proven she has what she so succinctly coins “anger issues” that rival the table-flipping rage of felon Theresa Giudice. She’s also mastered the fine art of furious projection previously made famous by Professional Victim, Kim Richards, in that she strikes out both blindly and cruelly at anyone in her airspace just to take the focus off her own disgraceful behavior. (Kelly might also drink as much as Kim did in Kim’s sickest heyday.) It’s difficult, actually, to choose the very worst thing Kelly has done so far this season since her behavior thus far has mirrored that of a third grade sociopath stricken down with both a superiority complex and insanity, but I suppose it’s nice that we have a choice. So which terrible action was the very worst? Was it when Kelly shrieked … Continue reading
I’ve been so consumed lately with focusing on how much of an assh*le one of the Presidential candidates is that I’ve almost forgotten about that other raging assh*le, Kelly Dodd. I suppose I’ll worry tomorrow about my newest affliction – Assh*le ADD – but tonight, I’m just going to appreciate that the closest I’ll ever get to this awful human specimen is through my television screen. The other Real Housewives are not so fortunate. They’re contractually bound; they must interact with the seething monster in the terrible clothing until someone finally slays the beast.
Where last we left off before the Olympics conquered Bravo, Kelly sneered that she’d never be friends with Shannon because Shannon is “ugly” and then invited Shannon to lunch to apologize for being such a d*ck. That apology did not go so well since Shannon insisted she did not, in fact, throw a party with the express purpose of setting up a woman she barely knows. Luckily, Kelly can drink away her pain in one of the twenty-three bars that line … Continue reading
Much to my constant dismay, I am the forgiving sort. I’m not quite sure where this little trait of mine comes from, but since I have a few fond memories of my father staunchly holding some grudges, I’m just gonna go ahead and claim that my forgiving nature was bequeathed to me by my mother, along with an almost identical face. I don’t much enjoy this aspect of my personality; there’s just something fiercely narcissistic about staying furious with someone and I wouldn’t really mind a bit more fierce narcissism running through my body. Alas, I was apparently not built to cut someone from my life completely. Just in case you need an example, how about the time I forgave a family member for refusing to congratulate me for writing a book that was in no way about her? Her reason for withholding the congratulations? I hadn’t told her I was writing a book and she refused to be proud of me because she wasn’t included in the process from its genesis. Save your time … Continue reading