Real Housewives of Dallas
Real Housewives of Dallas Premiere Recap
The Real Housewives of Dallas premiered and featured discussion about charity and how to steal money from your own husband.
Like most women her age with a background in modern jazz and tap Brandi had moved to Dallas to become a Cowboys cheerleader. After a few seasons of having her toes bleed because she’d been forced to high kick and step-lunge in cowboys boots she had transitioned into a wife and mother. She and her family lived comfortably in a house decorated with stainless steel appliances and a dining room set for imaginary dinner guests. Her husband traveled often leaving her alone, a feat which required regular massage appointments and cases of pinot grigio. “We met when we were in the 8th grade,” she explained. “He watched me perform a routine to Oops I Did It Again from the refreshment stand and we’ve been together ever since.”
Leeanne had too many Es in her name and a chip on her shoulder. Raised beside wolves in a traveling circus she had dreamed of the day when she could say goodbye to her bearded friends and live life like a normal person. But after years of staring at her stenciled wall in her kitchen chair carved from an oak tree she developed a career for herself as a charity organizer. You need someone to throw a cocktail party to raise money for a charity that only gets 10% of the proceeds from an accessories trunk show? Look no further. Plus charity gave her the opportunity to talk about herself. I know you’ve come here tonight to listen to people suffering with HIV, but allow me to tell you about the years I had flat hair and the time I got mugged.
Leeanne and her friend Tiffany loved to spend time together shopping.“Can I see that?” Leanne asked the owner of a consignment shop. “I love you,” the owner said with a wide smile, “but you can’t fit into it. I’ve got a blazer with a sequin state of Texas on the pocket that is calling your name.” Leeanne explained that despite preconceived ideas Dallas was a hip place to be. “I don’t have high hair or cowboy boots, but I do love to eat brisket and wear necklaces that look like a maxi pad attached with chains.”
She would return home so that she could eat enchiladas out of a takeout container with her boyfriend Rich, a police officer who had been married several times but had spent the last 6 years telling her they might get married if she played her cards right. “He’s so handsome,” she explained. By day he made arrests and by night he escorted her to events. “Can you come to the no-tie event at Marie’s house on Friday?” she asked him as he mopped up the remaining verde sauce from his plastic bowl with his finger. “We’ll have to see,” he told her, “depends on how many murder scenes I have to assess.” She would explain that there were different income brackets in Texas society. There are the people who sleep on piles of cash, those that buy things with cash, and those that name their kids Cash. “I am someone who gets to live a great life. I organize events where you are served egg rolls and champagne AND I get to meet rich people. I am a lucky girl.”
She had been a model somewhere in Los Angeles when she turned to her husband with highlights and flat-ironed hair reminiscent of Jennifer Aniston in Friends and said it might be time to go. “Maybe this tile floor in someone’s hallway bathroom isn’t the place for me? Why do I have powder all over the side of my face? Can you play me that cover of Bryan Adam’s Summer of 69?” The next day they moved back to Dallas. She wore headscarfs and he wore diamond earrings. They clung to the hope that he would score a record contract even though he was technically now too old to audition for American Idol.
She had married her husband after a quick courtship fueled with light beer and dance music. She was happy to be living in a home on a golf course occupied by the Four Seasons, but not thrilled with the way the father of her kids gave her lists of chores to attend to when he went to work. “It’s my marriage money,” she explained without understanding that when you get married you share assets. Please programs the garage doors and take out the crash, he would instruct her. She had thought perhaps he would have rather married someone like Betty Draper from Mad Men, someone willing to dress up in an un-flattering tee-length dress and pearls so she could serve him meatloaf upon walking through the door each night. “Did you have a good day, dear? Thank you again for giving me this lifestyle even though I cry in the shower during nap time.” This was why she and Brandi connected. They had married best friends and had become best friends bonded by a mutual love for what Brandi affectionately described as Jesus Juice. “It’s 3:00, should we break out the good glasses?”
She was the only woman who had a job, even though it was assisting her husband in the reconstruction of other women’s breasts. “I stalked him so he would hire me and now he’s my third husband.” He had steady hands that could sew up flesh and marinate chicken skewers for a cocktail party. In fact he was the one that made the appetizers for a charity event held at their home to raise money for women who needed surgery. “We are gathered here today to raise money for women who can’t afford reconstruction, unlike most of you that upgraded your jugs so you could fit into a bikini.” They didn’t understand her point.
CHARITY IN DALLAS
Leeanne’s friend Marie was willing to offer her home for a fundraiser because of her large foyer. Brandi and Stephanie were excited to be there because it was a welcome reprieve from the prison that had become their home life. But Leeanne wasn’t exactly thrilled to see them. They were the kind of women who married for wealth, what did they know about charity? Charity was not about throwing back drinks, cackling in a corner and comparing I Crapped On The Delivery Room Table stories. It was about disrupting someone’s speech about an organization that benefited people in need so you could reemphasize you had devoted your life to coordinating day drinking parties.
So Leanne wasn’t happy when she heard Brandi had been mimicking her. Although it was a decent impersonation, Brandi wasn’t willing to unveil it. “Then I would be giving her what she wants.” So she sat Leeanne down on the couch and proceeded to tell her how she had empathy for her. “I feel sorry for you because you hide behind this position as a charity influencer so you can get the attention you so badly craved from your parents who trained elephants to jump through hoops.” Leanne wasn’t happy. “Y’all are cute. I see your sprit. You still believe you are a cheerleader bringing joy to the people of the stadium. It’s your comedy.” But as Brandi explained it Leeanne was just an insecure woman who thrived off of pretending she’s never met people so they feel subservient. “If you were so good at your job how much money did you raise tonight? Or does it all go to the catering company serving is teriyaki chicken which tastes like dishwasher detergent? Can’t you just get people to write a check as opposed to visiting you in someone’s home while you greet them in clown pants?” Leeanne withheld her punch and returned to the sink so she could scour off the grease from the tray.
A Mad Hatter party.
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