In my rundown of reality (wink, wink, wink) shows that I watch, I forgot Tabatha’s Takeover. Love her, love that she kicks some business ass, and love that she’s so brutally honest I start picking up my house during the commercials for fear she can see the mess through the t.v. Who found this woman with the cut to the chase, stop your whining, my way or the highway kind of managing style that makes things happen?
I want Bravo to send Tabatha to the Congressional Salon, and when those talking heads walk up to the camera and microphone for our daily heaping of crapola sound bite, she should stand behind them in her Darth Vader garb, rolling her eyes and dropping the F bomb whenever they start the looney tunes. We can watch it all go down in the comfort of our home and like every employee of a bat-shit crazy owner, nod in agreement and wipe our teary eyes because somebody finally heard us.
So be afraid Mr. The American People Have Spoken But I Can’t Remember What They Said Cuz I Wasn’t Really Paying Attention. Tabatha is coming for you and that little dog of yours and about to make you seriously pee in your pants. How your hair turns out will be the least of your problems.