An Open Letter to a Real Housewife

Dear Jacqueline,

Honey, I just can’t let you go on like this. The way these women manipulate you is just sickening me, and I think it’s time that someone told you to your 39-year-old baby face that you’re the only worthwhile one of the bunch, and the only one who doesn’t stand a solid chance of getting sucker-punched in the bubbies on her next venture outside Franklin Lakes.

You know they all think they’re better than you, right? They’re just fighting over you because as you go, America goes. After all, you’re the only one in the bunch with a husband who doesn’t have an arrest record. Teresa might have her “French chateau” made entirely of onyx and marble, but, sweetheart, that was built with blood money—a contractor with a stay-at-home wife couldn’t keep up with that house payment…at least, not while he’s keeping her in those wigs and her and all her girls in spray tans, especially not with Gia SO HOT right now. And while her hubby’s probably telling her that his weekly HGH shipment is coming out of some separate fund, trust me: It’s the reason her showerheads aren’t made of diamonds. Paid for in cash, of course. Because the economy’s tanked.

And I know you’re afraid of Dina—we all are. But I’m fairly certain we could take her down if we all banded together. She seems to fear two things: 1) Getting skinned and worn as a pelt by Danielle, and 2) Catching the clap at a water park, overseas. (Does any country besides America create water parks?) I’m sure we could use both of these to our advantage, although, truth be told, Danielle herself is pretty much the scariest thing I can think of.

No, no, honey, I wasn’t implying that I BELIEVE that Danielle’s a kidnapper and a stripper or an escort or whatever’s revealed in that book, which I wish your friends would hold facing toward the camera with a little more purpose. I just mean, well, her eyebrows bear a striking resemblance to the look of the stigmata, and her love handles are every skinny woman’s nightmare, and her “workout shorts” are, I believe, actually panties. But I know she has a good heart. After all, she let her “boyfriend” tell her that he was 26, and she “believed” him. And she offered him sex, not only in a public place, but ALSO on reality TV! And I’m sure she would have been willing to give him the naked pictures she took of herself on her phone to send to her anonymous phone sex partner…but, then again, she gave those to you, the first time you met, so maybe that doesn’t count.

The point is, girl, if you want to be friends with Danielle, you can’t let your scary family keep you away. I mean, do you REALLY want to spend the holidays with Caroline and your nieces and nephews? One of them wants to be a cosmetologist but won’t touch hair on anyone else’s body; one of them wants to open a joint strip club/car wash (“When the girls aren’t on the pole, they can be washing cars!”); the third is called a “douche” for reading books and, you know, shit like that. I know it’s Big Mamma’s House and all, but really, between you and me, was Caroline included on the show just so the wrap party could be held at the Brownstone?

I just couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Jacquie, honey, you’re too good for this. You have the tallest hair of all of them, I DO believe you when you say you haven’t Botoxed, and, well, I know I’m not supposed to know this yet, but…you’re pregnant. No, really! I hate to say it, but going back to Vegas might be the right move.

Love,
Amy

PS When your daughter says you’re “just like the mom from Mean Girls,” SHE means it as a compliment, but…well, you should work on that.