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The real fame whore of Beverly Hills

If you’ve missed the second season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, you’ve missed some crazy shit. To see Taylor Armstrong’s lip implant tremble after drinking a couple glasses bottles of wine is what we’re born to die for. (Oh hai, Lana Del Rey.)

This season has been so tragic. These women are damaged. Kim Richards just came out of rehab (her alcohol and pill abuse was aired throughout the season), as was Taylor dealing with an abusive husband, Russell Armstrong, who, at the end of Season 2 taping, hung himself. Much of reality television is fake, but some elements can’t be manufactured. You can’t hide from the truth (even when you’re trying to create a new one) when the camera is filming. It picks up things beyond set-up scenarios, plots and feuds. Underneath all the reality propaganda (and Restylane), is actual reality.

The three-part reunion has been airing on Bravo, and Brandi Glanville is going for gold: she asked Taylor Armstrong, “When does the book come out? How long has it been? It’s been like a hot minute.” The book Glanville is referring to is Taylor’s abuse tell-all Hiding from Reality. On the cover she looks like the perfect silicone opportunistic victim. She should give her publicist a raise! Yes, Taylor is cashing in. She has no choice. Her husband killed himself and left her and their daughter no money. Whether you love or hate her (oh my, those lips), she’s been through enough to deserve a little bank. She’s some middle-American nobody (who once changed her name to Taylor Ford because she loves Tom Ford, naturally). Now if that doesn’t merit a payday, I don’t know what does.

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