The not-so-untouchables
In which I celebrate a day of reckoning for the OG Housewives.
Sometimes you reach a point — and for me, it’s almost always when I’m stuck in New York for the summer and being outside starts to feel distinctly like wading through soup — when the most effective coping mechanism is watching Real Housewives. Last week was especially rough, and I’m going to go ahead and assume that had something to do with the fact tha…