I’ve found my new favorite show to hate-watch: Gallery Girls on Bravo (Mondays at 10 p.m.). This grotesque reality TV canvas is like a post-surrealist hybrid of The Hills and Girls that should probably just be called Bitches. It stars six young snots and one hardworking woman from Long Island who live and ”work” in the NYC art world. Let’s look at the very worst of the bratty bunch.
Angela She’s obnoxious and would freak me out in real life, but I find this type of aggressive narcissist to be a TV treasure. During one confessional, the waitress/photographer/nude model asks the producers, ”Do you like how I light up when we talk about me?” I am tempted to award Angela immunity for tossing off the best line of the show so far: ”Like, don’t get béchamel sauce all over my clothes. No one f—s with my wardrobe.”
Amy ”I’m very lucky to have a father that takes care of me so I can work for free as an intern,” Amy explains. She’s 24 years old. Looks 40. Acts like she’s 6. Every time we’ve seen her, she’s gotten drunk and it’s been embarrassing and annoying?though she does seem really sad and lonely.
Chantal She strives to act like the coolest girl in Brooklyn, but the effort oozes out of her like a smear of red lipstick on her teeth. She speaks?lines like ”I always get very offended when unattractive men hit on me” — as if her face is melting off. Shows up to ”work” two hours late and then leaves. She’s just floating through life, ready to flee for Cuba and ”just chill” if this gallery hobby doesn’t work out.
Of course, a bitchery level this staggering practically ensures I’ll stay glued to this unnatural disaster.