I fucking love Vicky Gunvalson. Her draped neck tops, chin implant, blue cheese stuffed olives, WOOOO-HOOO -that bitch SLAYS me. Last weekend, I went to go visit my family in Orange County. Guess where they live? The RHOC MECCA – Coto De Caza. As much as the trip was physically planned to spend time with my lovely Aunt, Uncle and cousins… the spiritual mission for the trip was to cross paths with the legend that is Victoria Gunvalson. I could just imagine myself “jogging” back and forth in front of her house until she came outside. I would give her an unsuspicious neighborly wave and before we broke eye contact “twist my ankle” fall to the floor scream shouts of severe pain and maybe even let out a “woo-hoo”. She would run to my rescue, Brianna would clean my wounds (she is a trained nurse) I would hold baby Troy and we would all calm down with a Vicky-tini in the backyard next to the grotto. Soon we would have weekly cocktails, I would invest in a few Sky tops, Brianna would name me godmother to Troy and within months I’d be the newest cast member on The Real Housewives of Orange County. If only it was all that simple.
I entered the brass gates of Coto de Caza with the optimism of a small child, the hope of a Mormon and the perseverance of a tiger. For the record, I had a cowboy party that night and that is why I am wearing a cowboy hat. I would only wear a cowboy hat in themed situations… obviously.
After hustling the security guard for some info, you know, like address, income, social security number, if Brooks is in her visitor log, I figured I would do the sociable thing and ask some neighbors.
These Orange County-ians wouldn’t budge. Not even a discreet cardinal point – nada. If these people weren’t going to help me find the Gunvalson residence I knew I was going to utilize Google search. Once again – nada. Bullshit, I’m not trying to find Barack Obama here what is the big whoop? All my optimism and hope was gone. Dreams of margaritas by the pool and Botox parties crushed. I became very defeated and felt like I had just experienced the loss of a very deep future friendship. I have never dealt well with loss. After 24 hours of mourning my lost mission my Uncle surprised me with a full property report on Miss Victoria Gunvalson. I now had maps, tax income records, satellite photos, property value and most importantly an ADDRESS. I never thought having most of my family in the Real Estate industry could/would ever benefit me having a RHOC encounter, but BOY was I wrong. I felt alive again. Champagne was popped and I was ready. I told my mom before we left the wonderland of Coto we would have to do a quick drive by. She agreed, we packed up the car and said our goodbyes. With map in hand, I began to instruct my mom where to turn to put us on the road to Vicki. I won’t get into too many details because I’m still very upset about the whole thing and it hurts to talk about. Basically my mother betrayed me and refused to do a drive by because she said it is embarrassing and she doesn’t feel like going to jail. Talk about selfish. After I told my OC family how my mother maliciously crushed my dreams, they decided to do a night time drive by and send me the footage. Sometimes when I am down and out I watch the video and pretend I was there… thanks Mom. You’ll be paying for that missed experience in therapy bills. I love you Vicki. Woo-hoo.**This post is begging for a restraining order… I wouldn’t be opposed. It’s been on my bucket list for years. Restraining orders are so chic these days, I could really use that edge.