To carry on the pachanga that is Hispanic Heritage Month, my household has added another mental task to the many exercises we do to stave off senility. We are watching Real Housewives of Mayami as a family.
To break down the cast ethnically, it boasts a plurality of absurd Latinas and one hot-tempered Polack, Joanna Krupa. This breakdown is one of the core reasons the show attracts me. Watching it is like peeping at a family reunion where nobody is broke and Grandma can’t compare her melons to my cashews.
I used to prefer RH of Orange County because I related to its geographical closeness but RH of Mayami is spiritually closer to home. These women outdo ludicrous the way only Latina expatriates can and such are the women who shaped me.
Who are these deranged Mayamians I feel a kinship to? Well, Karent Sierra drills well-known teeth. She works as a dentist “to the stars” which is among my favorite phrases. Add it to anything and it becomes instantly questionable. Corned beef to the stars. Jedi to the stars. Gal pal to the stars. Finger f*cker to the stars.
Mayamian Lisa Hochstein lives in the house that boobs built. Her husband, Dr. Ho’, is responsible for one in two breast implants in Mayami (I’m not sure if he does the left or the right) and Lisa claims that when the doctor met her, he met her ass first. He was thankful that her face matched it, whatever that means.
Mayamian Adriana De Moura Sidi is engaged to a Frenchman who will be whisking her away to a life of sea sickness. She agreed to live on his yacht as long as she can bring her cathedral organ.
Joanna Krupa is Polish and while beautiful, I suspect she smells like cabbage.
The other contestants are somewhat interesting. Ana Quincoces is a lawyer, Lea Black is married to a lawyer, Marysol Patton has a face, but RH of Mayami’s true star TO THE STARS is Marysol’s mom, Elsa Patton.
Elsa’s charisma is rooted in her
- beautifully disfigured face
- macho voice
- Confucian wisdom and
- psychic powers.
For example, during an episode where Elsa worries that Napoleon, her dog, has run away, again, Marysol makes missing signs for it and posts them.
Instead of thanking Marysol for doing this, Elsa calls Marysol at work to moan that because her phone number is on the flier, perverts will be calling her, “Mayami is full of perverts!”
Marysol comes home from work to find Napoleon running around. A lounging Elsa explains that he’s been hiding in a closet all week and that Napoleon probably took a Xanax and went in there to die. Marysol lifts Napoleon onto her lap and chides Elsa for dressing him in leopard print, insisting that leopard is not for boy dogs. Mama Elsa demands, “Why do you think he was in the closet?!”
It’s the no der moment of the season.
A crisis moment comes at a party, when Elsa collapses. Paramedics wheel her away on a stretcher as she growls, “Ay, que pena…me voy a morir!”
Is Elsa embarrassed that she’s going to die or is she so embarrassed that she’s going to die of embarrassment? Whatever her intent, I love it when she groans.
I wish Elsa could have her own show, but that might be too much Elsa. The other housewives might get jealous and disfigure her to death so I understand why she must be meted out in controlled doses like Miami’s other treat, cocaine.
And if Elsa can give this American TV show such flavorful panache, shouldn’t Real Housewives’ execs take a cue and push the franchise international? I’d LOVE to watch Real Housewives of Guadalajara. I was thinking this while I was spending time with my godmother in Mexico this summer, listening to her discuss being able to kill people with her mind. She can will them dead with her thoughts, which is why I tell her she’s beautiful, and as my godmother confided these powers in me, my aunt was experiencing a heart attack brought on by tight pants.
Watching my aunts splash their drama across Mexico, drama that includes fainting spells, actual spells, and murders for hire, it’s needless to say that RHOGDL would outdo American RH in terms of violence and magic.
Here’s my pitch to the execs: Okay, guys, RHOGDL could easily cast your requisite plastic surgery disasters, balloon-breasted ladies with philandering husbands, cat fighters, alcoholics, and mother-daughter Botox party enthusiasts, but think about the added Mexican bonuses that this new geography will bring:
Drug smuggling tunnels!
Beatings with shoes!
Apparitions of the Virgin Mary!
Double the psychic grandmas!