The best thing about “The Real Housewives” franchise is that at the end of the day, they’re regular people. Once you cut through the manufactured drama, the extensions and the gallons of bronzer, these women are normal — they have families, pay some bills, yell at their kids, and attempt to live their lives as normally as possible in spite of the cameras. I’m willing to bet these ladies are a blast when the camera stops rolling and Andy Cohen stops asking awkward questions. In honor of the return of my favorite women from the Garden State, click through to see the reasons why these women would make great friends, and tune in to Bravo this Sunday at 8/7 C to check out the fifth season premiere.
This post is sponsored by Bravo’s “The Real Housewives Of New Jersey,” but the author’s favorite Housewife is DEFINITELY Teresa.
I’m all about reading — all of it and everything, and at any time, but my favorite place to read is most definitely the beach. With the return of 90 degree heat and high humidity, my mind starts wandering to getting my body to a seashore, stat. My beach reads usually consist of a clutch of month-old Us Weeklys and something large and ambitious like Middlemarch, but this year I’m looking to change it up. The best beach read has a compelling story, and an elusive combination of substance and fluff. Thankfully, we did the legwork for you — click through to see The Frisky staff’s recommendations for breezy summer beach reads with bite.
My parents got divorced when I was almost too young to remember. I carry only brief images of the time surrounding their divorce. My mother, in a red dress with polka dots, kneeling down to meet me at my level as I squirm in a chair, legs swinging above the floor. “I’m going away for a little bit,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.” Our new house in New York is full of books and my grandma is there and my father stretches the phone cord taut so he can sit on the steps to the basement and argue with my mother in California, 3000 miles away.
The details of the event were unusual for the late 1980s. The court granted primary custody to my father — we’d spend summers in California and live in New York for the school year. My primary memory of family growing up is as a unit of three — father, sister, me. Our trio was strong, it was unshakeable, and my sister and I adapted to an early independence. We did our own laundry, heated up our Kid Cuisine dinners in the microwave while our father worked late and made annual trips to the West Coast every summer to visit our mom. Our household was just as functional as that of any two-parent household. We trotted off to school each morning with combed hair, brushed teeth and all of our belongings.
I grew up into a independent, self-sufficient and confident adult, a woman who would much rather do it myself than wait on someone else to understand what needs to be done, a woman who is okay with the idea of potentially spending a life not married — not because no one would have me, but because I like it that way. Alone. Keep reading »
How better to celebrate the English language than to watch the Scripps Spelling Bee? Not only does it glorify the ability to memorize massive quantities of information and spit it out under pressure in front of a room of peers, it also illuminates the weird and wonderful chimera that is our language. The sheer drama of these pre-teens spelling words that I haven’t thought about since my SAT prep class is heart-pounding. Check it out to sharpen your vocabulary and stay for the awesome example sentences and the patient and kind pronouncer, Dr. Jacques Bailly. The preliminaries are live here right now. and the finals will be broadcast live tomorrow at 8 p.m. EST on ESPN.
Wedding season is kind of the best. I gladly welcome any excuse to put on a fancy dress, throw on some lipstick and toast the merry union of two souls, united in common interests, rooted in love. Weddings exist on a plane where everything is heightened, cast in a rosy glow fueled by champagne and cake and the joy of others. Every song is your song, in every conversation you are charming and witty, and, after a while, everyone — and I mean everyone — looks like a prime candidate for a clandestine makeout sesh over in the corner by the photo booth. Before you slink over to the target in your crosshairs, check yourself. Let us help you. Follow this guide, and you should be golden. Keep reading »
Manatees are my favorite animal. They are large and kind-looking, not aggressive and we share common interests — namely swimming in warm water very slowly and seaweed salad. A manatee has never pushed you out of the way to get on the train, or asked you to “keep it down,” or taken your seat on the bus. They are gentle souls. That’s why this footage of a woman riding a manatee in Florida is so awful. The most recent incident in a spate of human-on-manatee assault, the unnamed woman and her friends harassed this gentle herd until they finally swam away. A gentle reminder as we lead into this Memorial Day weekend — admire wild animals from afar. [WFLA]
Cleaning up your cat’s daily hairball attack aftermath got you down? Be grateful you’re not the vet who had to remove a terrifying 4 lb. hair ball from this handsome tiger’s stomach. After his handlers noticed that he wasn’t eating, they performed surgery to remove the basketball-shaped object, and the little dude is doing just fine now. You have to see this to believe it. Check out a pic of the hairball after the jump … if you dare. (Metro UK) Keep reading »
For the majority of my life, I was The Girl With The Grubby Nails. Nothing was more satisfying than sitting on my bed, lost in a book, gnawing in a distracted fashion on my tiny nail stubs. Save an ill-advised love affair with acrylic French tips in high school, my nails were largely ignored, left to languish while I concentrated my efforts on mastering liquid eyeliner and figuring out a flatiron.
Enter the $10 manicure, the ultimate lifesaver. For the price of two magazines, three street tacos, an iced tea and a big cookie, my nail game was on point, effectively transitioning me from Not Grown to Almost There. However, my lifestyle often belied my appearance, and I’d ruin manicures regularly, digging in my bag for keys, rustling around for chapstick, and once, just by walking up a flight of stairs. My $10 mani obsession had reached its peak, and it was a waste of money. After hours of internet research, I perfected an at-home mani situation that is fun, and dare I say, relaxing. Let me show you the way. Keep reading »
I am biracial, borne of a Taiwanese mother and American father. My features are decidedly not Caucasian, but hard to pin down to one specific category, a tiny frustration that gets at the heart of humans, because subconsciously, we all live to categorize. I deal with a host of questions pertaining to my background from “What you mixed with, girl?” to the timid “What … background are you?” I will entertain these questions, my response varying on the scale from begrudging to enthusiastic. It’s a conversation that I have a lot, and I’ve come to just suck it up and deal because people do not deal well with ambiguity. To categorize, to separate, to push things into clearly labeled boxes soothes the mind. It sets expectations, dictates how to behave, and prevents you from making statements like the ones I’m about to discuss. Keep reading »
Let’s go on a little journey together, with Mariah Carey and Miguel as our spirit guides. Click and let the glory that is “#Beautiful” wash over you. Now picture this — you’re walking down the street on one of those sparkly summer days when it’s warm enough for bare legs but not so hot that you’re peeling your body off the sidewalk. What’s that up ahead? Your face, on a billboard, lightly tanned, possibly freckled, definitely sun-kissed, rising above the buildings and glinting in the sun. You’re happy, glowing, a paragon of modern health and summer beauty … and then you wake up, reverie ended, song over. You’re at work, back at your desk, a half-finished Excel doc and a salad you still need to eat wilting in the corner.
It’s time to make this dream a reality. If you, lovely reader, think you could be the new face of Hawaiian Tropic, check out their Facebook page and and submit a photo and details of why YOU are the perfect gal for the job. You could win a visit to an undisclosed but fabulous tropical location and be the new face of Hawaiian Tropic so get on it right now!