I can’t tell if I’m watching the new season of Basketball Wives: LA because I’m a masochist or if I’m using it as a weekly reminder on the virtues of never becoming a miserable, insufferable jackass so desperate for cheap fame that I’m willing to behave like a Disney villain for the sake of scoring extra camera time.
I’ve never been one of those people who acted as if reality television would lead to the destruction of the race, but I am increasingly finding myself exhausted by the behavior of the people I see on shows like Basketball Wives: LA. I’m not naïve about the format of these shows. They thrive on conflict so forced interactions and high school behavior are a means to an end. Yes, I find a lot of it entertaining and I never feign guilt about it. Still, we’ve reached the point wherein reality newbies are so hipped to the format that they instantly try to behave the way they’re “supposed to” as opposed to oh, I don’t know, just letting things happen organically. That is to say, as much as one can on a storyboarded reality show.
On the season premiere of the show, you could tell the new cast – particularly Brittish Williams and Sundy Carter – were ready to beef with Draya Michele before they even met her. Who goes on a reality show to ask someone they just met, “Are you a hoe?” Those are the types of questions that result in Da Brat-inspired bottle beat downs.
And when it comes to Sundy Carter, with all due respect, sis, if your underage daughter is online with her face plastered near someone’s penis, why are you on VH1 policing another woman’s sexuality? Actually, why are you not in jail apparently for posting the picture yourself? Oh, because you were “hacked.” Where is Olivia Benson when you need her?
In any event, why are you so pressed to attack a person you don’t know based on her past as a stripper? Do you think behaving like an asshole is going to boost your IMDB page or something?
Worse, on the most recent episode of the show, Sundy is trying to throw Draya under the bus for being a “side chick.” Yet, she was subjected to rumors of being allegedly knocked up by someone’s husband. I don’t care who has visited Sundy’s vagina, but I do find that sort of double standard despicable. The same goes for her wanting to be around Draya the minute she would be hit with potentially hurtful news.
Then there is Jackie Christie, who at this point is reality TV’s answer to YourMomIsClubbin.com, going above and beyond to drag Draya presumably because she doesn’t want to be her BFF.
I used to enjoy this show for what it was, but at this point, Jackie Christie and the other wicked stepsisters are so pressed to swing from Draya’s bra strap that you’d think she used to nurse them. This is like mean girl antics on steroids presented at warped speed. I don’t know why they seem to think that in order to be the “breakout star,” they have to immediately come for the head of the cast, but if I could push a button to send Jackie, Brittish, and Sundy through a trap door, I’d be reaching for the remote this instant.
Basketball Wives LA is turning into The Shrews of Southern California – and I’m getting bored with it fast.