The Real Kindergarteners of the OC

OK. I confess. I'm addicted to the "Real Housewives of Orange County." I hate it, but I never miss an episode.

I'm always amazed that people of such means can be so petty, mean, spiteful, shallow and fake. The show doesn't appear to be any more real than their breasts, friendships or hair color but I watch it week after week wondering when the truth will come out. Or is this the truth?

Now, I know the show has become part of a genre of so-called reality shows that actually come off like scripted series, in part because of manipulation by the producers. But I always wonder, are these women doing this show because they are paid to do it (most of them don't seem to need the money) or are they just so egomaniacal that they are so proud of everything that comes out of their mouths, like each exit from the bathroom by a child being newly potty-trained. 

How many of you would want cameras following your life 24/7? Wouldn't you pay NOT to have your private and mundane moments shared in front of the world like a spycam in your shower?  Or are they just so addicted to fame and looks and plastic surgery that they can't help but view the results every week on their home theaters.

I remember once in one of the after shows, when host Andy Cohen, the brilliant mind that spawned the Housewives series and newer ones about Jewish and Iranian American Princesses and a bunch of prima donnas on a yacht, asked if they were voting for George W. Bush in his first election.

"Of course," they answered in knee-jerked uniformity, the only time all agreed on anything. "We're Republicans. Everyone is in Orange County."

So, I figure, everything in their lives may be as shallow as their understanding of politics, at least as portrayed on the series. Hair, check. Makeup, check. Lipo, check. Botox, check. Republican, check. Pass the cocktails, please.

Even the OC born-again Christian couple gets caught up in the nasty sludge of back talking. But don't worry, husband Jim, who seems oblivious to every Scripture except the ones that says wives should be subservient to men and no church outfit should cost less than $1,000, has an answer. 

When his Barbie doll wife asked if she should turn the other cheek about all the bickering and gossip, he explained that wasn't what Jesus meant. "He didn't mean you sit back and take it."

 Uh, no, Jim, that's exactly what he meant.

When my stepdaughter was in kindergarten at St. Andrew's School near Campbell, she and her friends used to break rocks during their recess.

That's right. It was an ironically appropriate activity, some might think if they compare school to prison, but as goofy as it sounds, they set up a little assembly line, taking rocks and breaking them down into sand and putting it in the sandbox. They were doing important work, they said.

But it wasn't the work that bound them together. It was the gossip and mean-girlism, even at that tender age.

Every day she would come home with tales of two girls ganging up on one, or of some injustice a best friend committed against another. Or of friendships that got pounded down one day and were solid as a rock the next. It was constant drama on a kindergarten scale. 

Just like the Real Housewives.

Do you agree? Have you watched it? Do you love or hate it? Should I just go have another margarita and shut up?