Talkin' Trash TV: The Real Housewives of NYC Season 4 Premiere

New Yorkers are dealing with a lot right now. It's only a matter of time until the hugliest combover in the annals of hirstute history is splashed all over the city in "Trump 2012" ads. And the Sox are about to break their slump, sending the Yankees wiping their $200 million tears all the way back to the Bronx after this weekend's home opener (fingers crossed!). 

But now these poor folks also have to deal with the return of the most notorious fame-mongers the city has ever exported. The Donald excluded.

I am, of course, referring to the most scantily dressed middle-aged matrons this side of Park Avenue, queasily squeezed into the mini-est of dresses, otherwise known as The Real Housewives of New York City. The overly-dramatized caricatures that millions of Americans either love to hate or, more likely, hate to love are back for a fourth season, to breathe some fresh air into the otherwise stale Bravo franchise (adios D.C. and Miami, I wish I had never known you.)

The cast has been shaken up a bit since we last saw the Countess & Co. Bethenny Frankel jumped ship just when she decided to become an actual housewife- meaning a woman that runs a health food empire while a coterie of personal assistants and baby nurses take care of the actual doodie duties. 

Joining the mix as the seventh (!) cast-mate is Cindy Barshop, a refreshingly downtown single mother of twins and "Completely Bare" hair removal guru, who is out to prove she can have it all without one of those pesky men around. Here's to hoping she is able to fill Bethenny's stilettos.

Speaking of men, we were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the glorious, impossibly tight leather pants that have helped make househusband Simon van Kempen the true star of this side show. Seriously Bravo, give this family their own spinoff already, with or without the perpetually rashy Alex McCord, who is apparently a model now. No thank you. The always entertaining Francois is even more pretentious and aware of the spotlight than his society-climbing parents, which is seemingly impossible."When the camera rolls, Francois rolls."

If last night was any indication of things to come, it seems that last season's hostilities have been carried over and will reach a boiling point in the epic showdown of - gasp! - blondes vs. brunettes. Team towhead consists of McCord, reportedly bankrupt man-eater Sonja Morgan, and Ramona Singer- whose crazy-eyed shit talking is rivaled only by DC houswife Camille Grammer. The 54-year-old "Cameron Diaz look-alike" reduced an interviewee to tears last night by berating her outfit and complexion on national television.

Repping team brunette are Barshop and Jill Zarin, who suffered a speedy fall-from-grace from Queen Bee to public enemy #1 last season. Jill still "loves" former partner in crime Bethenny in "some weird, sick, psychotic way," so methinks it's time to up the security for baby Bryn. Plus, they have the ultimate secret weapon to use against their fair-haired nemeses: the threat of disptaching the Countess to sing "Money Can't Buy You Class" sans auto-tune at any given moment. Sister makes Rebecca Black look talented.

Stuck in the middle (right smack in Crazytown) due to her Ombre highlights, is Kelly Bensimon, the resident batshit crazypants of New York. Well, if she actually ever wore pants or anything past mid thigh, that is. To be fair, Kelly probably isn't even aware there is a feud going on around her, or what the word feud means, to be honest. Every truly entertaining season has that one moment that really puts it over the edge; New Jersey had the table flip, Beverly Hills had the dinner party from Hell, and New York had Scary Island, where Bensimon showed her true capacity for lunacy while feasting on jelly beans like a madwoman and claiming that Frankel was literally trying to murder her.

After a delayed premiere due to "not having enough drama," one can only hope that the New York housewives have managed to up the crazy quotient for another season. Because how else are we going to feel better about ourselves while watching multi-millionaires at play?