I’ll say this. Reality TV is not meant for straight men. But, every now and then, they really do try to make a push into guys-who-dig-girls territory. It’s generally a big fail because their hearts not in it, and guys really don’t care much for overly-made-up drunken middle aged train wrecks (well, okay, some guys do love that drama), but they keep pushing, and occasionally we do take note. Like Gretchen Rossi from Real Housewives of Orange Country.
When Bravo found out that not a single guy who watches football was watching their show, they brought in Gretchen who is ten years young and has a hotter body than anybody else on the show. Then they put her in lots of skimpy outfits and called it a ‘male strategy’. Is it working? Not so much on the TV numbers, but when they do their promotional shoots by the beach, I must admit, I still peek. I’m a guy. I have reflexes. Enjoy.
We are hardly the arbiters of good taste here at Egotastic! (brother sister pictures included in that deprecation). We are not qualified to be moral judgers or upholders of the appropriate. We’d make very lousy home owners association Presidents. In fact, if depraved thoughts were a crime, we’d probably be wearing an ankle bracelet right about now. Yet we still feel we have standing enough to say that most all of reality television programs, let alone those tracking mindless fighting drunken bims with bleached taints to tops, are really not so good for the grey matter of society. We’d fight to the death for their right to be aired, but, let’s be honest, they’re the turd pies of media content.
All of which brings us to Gretchen Rossi of The Real Housewives of Orange Country Housewives. A show about 45-year old women desperate to look 35 for whom we’d try to finish up our business in 25-seconds, lest they actually start using their mouths for speaking. Harsh? Yes, but honest. But there’s no doubt that Gretchen has one pretty hot bikini body, so when she gets together a completely trumped up bogus bikini photoshoot, despite our moral indignity, hell yeah we’re going to watch. And share with our favorite people, yes, we mean you. Enjoy.
Oh, how I hate giving pub to the skanktastic cut and molded faces of the Real Housewives faux-reality series not-really-housewives. The Girl Scouts of America (yep, I follow them) just produced some survey that showed how incredibly God-awful these types of shows are on the impressionable minds of young ladies, causing their entire value systems to warp to Kardashian level horribleness. Like, I think girls who watch these shows are eighteen times more likely to carry razors in their stolen Gucci bags and cut their yoga-teachers or something or get pregnant by unemployed sons of rich parents with DUI records and greasy hair.
Still, we’re mostly grown men here, so I think we can provide some exception in the case of hot bodies and leering looks at funbags. In this case, Gretchen Rossi, from the Real Housewives of Orange County, using all the gifts that God and surgeons gave her to pimp the shizz out Reebok or Nike or some athletic company gear by running around L.A. flashing her tight body and doing lots of stretches and bending over for the cameras. This can’t be bad for us, right? Enjoy.
Okay, yes, I had to dig kind of deep here to celebrate the 235th Birthday of the U.S, including Real Housewives of Orange County plasticine princess Gretchen Rossi in a patriotic bikini designed to make you say, ‘Hey, nice big stripey boobs’, and Mollie King of The Saturdays, who despite being London born and bred, looked the other way at the transgressions of the Yankee rebels to celebrate Independence Day in red, white, and asstastic.
Happy Birthday, America. Your present is in the mail.
Yeah, I watch the Real Housewives of Orange County. No, my girlfriend doesn’t make me. This is my dark secret shame. I mean, of course, I’ve got others, but this is the only one I’m sharing today. Look, I’ve got a thing for older bleached blonde and artificially boobtastic women folk who live in gated communities. It’s just my fetish and pizza delivery boy fantasy, okay. And, it is okay, I think now, thanks to the more widely exposing bodies of some of the housewives such as Gretchen Rossi, who is sort of an amalgam of every annoying girlfriend you ever had in your life, except pretty damn hot and hot bodied. When she opens her mouth, the fantasy goes away, but in silent Gretchen Rossi bikini pictures, just let the boobs and the hips and the booty do the talking and she’s downright alright by me. I feel much better after this confession. I think it’s good for the soul. Enjoy.