Real Housewives of D.C. Real Housewives of D.C.

To quote Cat, bullocks.

Maybe it's the conditioning we've had from seasons of flipped tables, pulled weaves, Big Poppas and gummy bear breakdowns, but The Real Housewives of D.C. just aren't delivering the goods. And by "the goods," I mean the really bad behavior, of course.

Last night, they all pretty much sat around jawboning about how Michaele and Tareq — the capital's Speidi — snuck into the Congressional Black Caucus. Seriously, this tale was told three times! Once at some fancy home store with the world's most uncomfortable-looking chairs, then in the limo to the Salahi vineyard, and once more at the vinyard. It was almost refreshing when they broke from all that blah-blah-blah to stomp a sad pile of store-bought grapes and discuss Lynda's dig about Michaele's emaciated frame — even though that slam has been rehashed umpteen times since the pilot. Ugh. Nobody even threw a glass of the Salahi's wine in someone else's face. Or mentioned the fact that Tareq was totally wearing a Cosby sweater.

And the formula is so starting to show. Atlanta's NeNe, New Jersey's Danielle, and now Stacie have all sought out a birth parent. Cat's über-sassy stylist is just a white Dwight. Mary's back-at-home daughter could be New York City Ramona's kid if Avery had a dog with shedding issues. And don't even get us started on how many of the wives, no matter what their city of origin, have assistants and security, but no actual career or threat of assassination. Hell, at this rate or repetition, we'll probably get a hellacious single, a cookbook-slash-diet guide and a sex tape out of the Beltway brood by the end of the summer.

It's getting boring, ladies. Ya'll better bring something new to the Real world, or folks are gonna start saying that D.C. is a lot worse than just "Hollywood for ugly people."

Are you feelin' this group of Housewives? Or are you counting the days until Atlanta rises once again?

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