S1: E2 It’s only episode two, but for the Football Wives, shit’s starting to get real. Right off the bat, Chanita sits down to nice breakfast with her football playin’ hubby and breaks down in tears at the thought that her husband risks his life to play football and provide food for her and her kids. I’m sorry, but it’s not like he’s in the military facing gunfire and minefields – he’s playing a game that he loves and yes it’s dangerous, but it could be worse. Even though the thought of her husband playing football makes her break down in tears for a minute, of course she’s still hoping that he gets brought back up into the big leagues – hopefully for the Cowboys. Yeah, I’m really sensing the true concern here.
Deion Sanders is also feeling the effects of spending a chunk of his life on the football field. Over lunch with Pilar, he gives the rundown of his Arthritis pains and in typical Deion Sanders style, tells his wife the only cure is more sex. They don’t teach manners in the NFL, that’s for damn sure. This (of course!) escalates into a conversation about his “love” of the game. He loves it a little too much – I don’t know if anyone else would say playing football is like making love. Cuckoo. Clearly his little cameos are the real reason to watch this show.
Back to the inane wifey banter that is supposed to be the reason we watch this show. Chanita befriends Dawn and they bond over the fact that they are the ones with the least money in the group. Chanita has a gaggle of kids and Dawn’s children have costly medical issues that she’s struggling to pay for. I get that living the high life until the well ran dry is making your life a little uncomfortable now ladies, but I’m having a hard time feeling bad for you in your giant Dallas mansions. There’s this little thing called an economic crisis and there are a hell of a lot of people that have it worse than you. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be fun, mindless reality TV? Come on, VH1. Lighten up.
Okay, well, they do lighten up a bit with a little taste of bubblegum. We get what seems like a pretty pointless (and boring, sugary sweet, I’d-rather-be-attacked-by-wild-dogs-than-watch-this) scene of the football girlfriend, Brittany, and her ball player, David, with their new puppy. She thinks it’s a step to future football-wifedom and right on time, David asks her why she joined a show called Football Wives when she’s not a wife. Uh-oh. You’re getting into dangerous territory, cowboy. Clearly, Brittany’s a pushover because she just giggles. God, these shows are great at making women look terrible. Clearly the Hooters girl does have a plan though because in her confessional she talks about how she’d get more respect as a wife. What is this, the 50s? It hasn’t been cool to scheme for a rich husband since Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and only Marilyn can make it look that adorable.
Finally, we get to the main event. Dawn, Chanita, Melani, and Mercedes (who actually got kicked off the show for inciting violence with another cast member) go golfing with the promise that the winning team will give a terrible makeover to the losing team (what are they, in the 5th grade?). It’s painful watching them try to play, but Dawn’s the worst, practically digging a hole in a sand-trap. Dawn’s also getting really bitter and really DRUNK, which of course leads to her running her mouth and pissing off Chanita. Dawn plops down on the golf course (while Melani looks on in terror and fear of getting the boot from the hoity-toity country club) and yells at Chanita about having fun instead of playing to win – she just had to open up a debate with Miss I’m-From-Detroit-And-I-Will-Kick-You-Ass. Stupid girl. Dawn projects her idea about playing for fun onto kids who play sports, and they argue about their husbands playing and having fun, not playing to win. Blah, blah, blah. Of course Chanita takes this all personally and as a slight on how she raises her kids. Is there anything this woman doesn’t think somehow pertains to her? She has little girls for godsakes. She doesn’t even have kids playing football. This does not involve you, crazy lady; kindly shut your face, please.
Oh, but there’s more. They go for post-golf drinks and snacks at the clubhouse and Melani attempts to get in a few rational words about how embarrassed she is at their behavior on the course. But Dawn and Chanita – the “textbook frenemies” – are still at it. Now, Chanita is talking about donating to charity and Dawn drunkenly (and scathingly) blurts out, “You must be rich.” Over charity? Really? She’s actually doing something good and that’s what you’re criticizing, drunkie? God, these women are crazy. Chanita retorts that she gives up taking her kids to things like gymnastics classes so she can help less-fortunate people, and while that should be commendable, of course Dawn has sweeping criticisms. Consider the fire officially started.
We get a split second break from all that nonsense to see another little boring clip of Brittany and David where they reveal their favorite hobby: beer pong. They literally play each other at beer pong in their apartment, fill up on what I assume is little better than Coors Light, and then go to bed. Classy. Gee I’m so glad I didn’t take that bathroom break, could you imagine if I had missed that riveting little clip? Ugh.
Back with the crazies, Melani and Dawn lost the little golfing competition and they are sitting down for their makeovers. A barrage of giant, plastic pink hoops, stupidly long nails, shiny gold hooker-esque clothes assault the screen (and my eyes). Dawn is too prim to try to have fun with it and her husband is not at all amused. Melani embraces it, and as retaliation (at least I’m assuming) for the childish behavior on the golf course, goes outside to attempt to embarrass Dawn in front of her neighbors. Is this as good as it’s going to get? Lame pranks borrowed from drunken college coeds who were bored on a Tuesday night? Come on, ladies. WHERE’S THE HAIR PULLING? (Or at least table tossing?)
They do leave us with a mild little tiff, but it’s nothing spectacular. Chanita asks Dawn out to lunch to yell at her for criticizing how she raises her kids. (Remember how that happened a few days ago? Well we’ve got nothing better to do so let’s argue some more!) The content’s not important, but just know that she ends her little rant with a puzzling threat. “I will walk you like a dog!” What the hell does that mean? Note to self: never befriend anyone who’s even considered dating a Dallas Cowboy for any length of time.