Bravo Representative Looks Into the Future, Sees Pleather, Misogyny, and Fat Feet

We feel old this morning, possums. And it's not just the hangover from hell after playing the Matt Lorenz Drinking Game last night.

Well, maybe it is, because we have begun wondering whether, pace Michael Kors, bitchery isn't a young man's game.

We pondered this as we read the Assistant's Blog on Bravotv.com and discovered, in the timeless tradition of Bette Davis in All About Eve, that there is always someone younger and bitchier. And he nests like an asp in Bravo's bosom. Get a load of this:

"Everyone has an Achilles heel when it comes to members of the opposite sex. Women like Andrea vex me." [We suspect he's seen 300.]

"Oh, dear Carisa. What can I say? Every reality show needs a villain and she graciously stepped up to the plate this season. She's a classic archetype that exists in every group of friends, everywhere for all time. Once a summer, she'll paint her toenails fire engine red and go salsa dancing with her girlfriends. Her plump feet screaming to break free from their pleather straps. Her face will get flushed with each successive mojito and the volume of her voice will escalate as the night rolls on.

If she wins "Top Design," she'll do all of the quintessential slight taste of fame missteps. A geeky guy from high school will come up to her at a bar. As soon as he turns around, she'll roll her eyes and say, "Ew. Gross." She’ll talk loudly on her cell phone in public and make sure everyone is painfully aware of how stressful an interior designer’s life can be. “We needed those door frames five days ago. I CAN’T WORK LIKE THIS!” Ugh, I can see it all too clearly. And her penchant for horizontal striped tops? Don't get me started. Can someone please talk to her about that?"

Ugh indeed. Or, as the kids say, Wow, just wow. (Or, as Miss XaXa put it, "Dayum, boy has issues.") Do you see what we mean, possums? Because we have no trouble calling Carisa a bitch, but we would never call her a fat bitch.

Oh, and maybe because of (in spite of?) his being half Puerto Rican, the Assistant's "mojito" and "salsa dancing" cracks about someone named Carisa Perez-Fuentes are just precious, adding a delicious soupcon of potentially self-hating racist condescension to the delicate blend of misogyny and disgust at the overweight. Neil LaBute would be proud. Freudians, start your engines!

Frankly, we can't imagine why he's no longer working as a lawyer.