As we waited in line a few weeks back I told my friend Chris that I kinda wanted Ramona Singer, star of Bravo’s Real Housewives of New York to insult me I was only half kidding. After all, I had left my nearly 2 month old daughter at home with dad to drive 45 minutes in rush hour for her wine signing at a liquor store – I wanted something memorable out of this whole thing.
We got there promptly when the signing began all primped and ready- after all, we knew these pics were going in frames. Nobody loves watching Real Housewives like Chris and I. We text back and forth during the shows and then dive straight into Watch What Happens Live just to hear more about the craziness and text and tweet our opinions on the crazy lives of these total strangers who we feel we know. We were so worried about our on-time arrival since we figured the line with fellow junk TV-lovers would be around the block. Not so much. Only 15-ish people stood in line before us, half that being husbands and boyfriends just there to act as cameraman. It’s not Oprah, people, but to us it was exciting all the same The low turnout combined with the dozens of people shopping who were not there to see Ramona had her visibly unhappy. I didn’t hear her signature laugh once, nor could I hear her talking to anyone. Didn’t matter. We were there and making the very best of it.
I was so determined to get a good picture of the three of us that I schooled some guy in line behind us there with his wife on how to use my camera. ‘Take a few practice snaps’ I told him. We had to get this right. So he took this riveting pic of the dismal line ahead of us.
Then I got this one of her mindlessly signing bottles of wine (which you were REQUIRED to buy, natch) without talking, laughing, or appreciating people who came out to see her on a Friday afternoon.
Then it was our turn. My head was spinning with questions. I wanted to ask her like what her favorite mascara was and if she did her own makeup for events (which was a noticeable yes since she wore just the essentials and her skin was perfect), and if the girls were all friends in real life, but instead I asked her nothing. I choked out a quiet ‘you look great’ (which she did), then asked meekly for a photo since the warm ‘come on around here’ invitation never came. ‘Make sure to hold the bottles up’ was all she said. She was so bored she couldn’t be bothered to look at the camera.
But the silver lining was upon us. Mario. Graciously standing out from behind the table and wandering around greeting people and taking photos. Smiling, enjoying, talking. You know- things that she’s actually supposed to be doing. There was no reason for him to be so available since he wasn’t selling anything so photos and niceties weren’t required. Maybe he was, you know, just happy? Imagine that.
Minutes later it was over. Photos snapped, wine in hand we scurried off to the car to talk about what a totally weird experience it was. Assembly line, totally generic, but worth it. We got the picture! More of a friends moment than a celebrity one really, which for us is really what it’s all about.