Sister Wives: Watching Paint Dry

This week's entire episode was two exhaustive conversations — and Kody wasn't in either of them.

All that happened this week — I repeat: ALL THAT HAPPENED — was the following:

Meri told Robyn that she planned to move more of her life (namely her pyramid scheme clothing business) to her bed and breakfast in Utah. Meri implied, in the slowest possible way, that she would be maintaining a smaller home in Flagstaff to be near Robyn and Kody, but we all know she’s eventually fully committing to Utah. Just in bits and pieces. This whole thing took 30 minutes of airtime.

Janelle told Christine that she’s decided to leave Kody for good. This took another 30 minutes of airtime. The show went back and forth, between Meri’s discussion with Robyn, and Janelle’s luncheon with Christine.

We saw two minutes of Kody taking select children on some type of motorbike.

Of note: Meri’s house, which she’s moving out of anyway, is larger than I imagined and looks like it comes staged. She lives there alone, and it's huge! Also, Robyn was allowed inside Meri’s house, which is not the case when Meri visits Robyn. I assume this is all due to Kody’s Covid concerns.

Take off your bomber jacket and stay awhile.

The editing of Sister Wives is ridiculous—it’s almost disrespectful of its audience. The repetition is exhaustive, the slow, slow conversations are boring, and the past 3 episode have done nothing but go around and around on the same issues. Have the producers not watched other reality shows? Shit need to move along!

Speaking of which, I started watching The Golden Bachelor. I’ve never seen any of the Bachelor/Bachelorette shows before but I love senior citizens so I’m tuning in. At my suggestion, my parents also watched the first episode.

Shall we discuss at Garbage Television? Lemme know your Golden Bachelor thoughts? And also, are we all sick of Sister Wives? This season is stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic and producers are forcing us to sit in it. Snoozerooni. Someone needs to throw a drink across a midscale restaurant. Come ON. I’m not a therapist—I don’t need to sit around for an hour listening to people complain about their marriage. And leave it to the Browns to make plural marriage with 57 children boring.

Anyway, I’m leaning more into Gary the Golden Bachelor. I welcome you to join me (and my father, who appears v. invested in Gary fining “the one.”) Until next time, my Sister Spouses, may all of your conversations be interesting and all of your commercial breaks be brief.