RHOA Recap Dish Times Two!

ABIB here bringing you two weeks worth of Atlanta goodness. Our ladies have been busy bringing the drama, the crazy and in one uber-creepy case, the embalming fluid. One by one here we go:

Phaedra is giving her inarticulate blockhead of a husband, Apollo, the silent treatment for exchanging skeevy texts with Kenya and then lying about it. Also, her whole "Phaedra Queen of the Dead" shtick has taken on a whole new color as she's prepping, in Alabama for some inexplicable reason, for her mortuary license...or degree...or whatever they give to those fucking weirdos. In her talking head segments she's wearing an Elvira get up that would give the House of Usher the creeps. Basically I've never been able to stand Phaedra and now it seems that my aversion has been deserved. Phaedra's a bizarro and this season's favorite Phaedra word is "formaldehyde". Feh.

Nene is in re-jiggered newlywed bliss with Grigg and is basically taking every opportunity to remind us that she's still hanging by a thread to fame via her one remaining Ryan Murphy TV credit, Glee. But I love me some Nene, so she can prance around in her Manolos and platinum weave and just be her ghetto faboolus self. Big mwah to Neens.

Cynthia had fibroids and Uncle Ben was way concerned because that meant they weren't fucking anymore. That old, ugly-ass, good for nothing dick is a useless sack of shit. But Cynthia loves her old man and so she tells him that she's sorry he's had to endure her crabby moods and lack of desire to be fucked, but THATS what happens when you have a few cantaloupes fighting for space in your uterus. Fucking Uncle Ben. So she goes under the knife and he reminds her that he's gonna be looking forward to some good Uncle Ben sex ASAP. He tells her this in surgical recovery. I'm planning a Kickstarter page to raise money for a hit on Uncle Ben. Who's with me? Also, they actually try to make a storyline out of Cynthia's 13 year old daughter Noelle's new boyfriend, Arthur. Has the meet and greet with the 'rents and everything. Cynthia's life must be really boring right now if this qualifies as a story thread. Guess there's no G List Atlanta fashion shows to be produced by The Bailey Agency this year.

I won't even dignify the Porsha whine-a-thon with coverage except to say that Porsha is a spoiled BAP and her mother needs to immediately stop wearing sleeveless tops. Like fo rill, babe; with upper arms roughly the size of a missile silo bare is not a good look. Not. A. Good. Look.

Kenya is...Kenya. Which means shes embroiled in some trifling high drama bullshit with some landlord and well...yadda yadda yadda... Kenya's typical twirly-crazy-everyone's jealous of me-brand of certifiable gonzo bullshit. That plus she's talking about some mysterious African lover man who makes her feel like a queen. Yeah, K, that's why you're sexting with that blockhead, Apollo.

The winner so far this season for Top Crazytown Express has got to be Kandi and her Momma. Whoah! Kandi's Momma DO NOT like fiancee Todd nor Kandi's bestie and burns up ALL her screen time going all evil-eyed, "I'm gonna poison your food and work a root on your ass" whenever either of those two are in her presence. Kandi's at a loss because I get the impression that this batshit behavior is nothing new for her Momma Dearest. At the wedding dress store Momma gets to taking off her shoes and waving them around in a threatening, "I'm gonna fuck you up" kinda way at the girlfriend. Or wait...maybe Momma actually said "I'm gonna fuck you up" to the girlfriend. Either way I'm thinking Kandi's Momma should probs be tested for Alzheimer's or something. Also, Kandi needs to invest in a personal shopper right away. Between the ugly t-shirts and desperately shoehorning her into several wedding dresses, Kandi's looking pretty, pretty, pretty rough around the edges. At a minimum someone needs to tell her that her days of shopping at Forever 21 are about 50 pounds behind her. No pun intended.

So that's the latest scoop with our bitches in the ATL. Come back next week for more ABIB recap love!

The ABIB Recaps The RHOA Season Opener: The Bailey Agency Is Expanding; Phaedra Has Birthed A President and Nene and Grigg Are Back, Baby!

Hang on to your butts, the REAL reason that Bravo means “Real Housewives” is back, baby! ATL is in the house! Nene, Phaedra, Porsha, Kandi, Cynthia and Kenya are back and bigger than life. Of course our first stop is at Chez Leakes with the newly remarried Nene and Grigg opening the 10,000 presents they received as gifts for their second marriage. Name dropping with the best of them, Mrs. Leakes, sporting a diamond ring that would choke a Wookie, lets us know that her friends do not scrimp when it comes to gifts. Tiffany crystal objects d’art out the ying yang and a special Hermes decorative plate from none other than Thereser and Juicy Joe up der in Joisey “Oh! From Theresa and Joe in New Jersey. What a rich bitch!” Nene gasps as she removes the plate from its protective sleeve. Neen’s makes sure that we know that SHE knows how to drop the “H” in Hermes, as she repeats the word, Ermez, about six times in a row. Quick: Nene! How do you pronounce hombre? Her voiceover tells us that since her show “The New Normal” got cancelled (hell we already knew THAT), she’s back in Hotlanta which is “home”. Although she’s quick to remind us that she’s happy to head to LA or New York “for work”, just in case any casting agents might be tuning in. Nene begins to wax empathetic as she muses over the fact that Porsha and her footballer husband are getting divorced, but just for two hot seconds ‘cause right away she’s dishing for us on Cordell Stewart and how he “knows how to break up wit a bitch. I mean he’s like ‘we broke up’ BOOM! There it is!” We’ll learn later, from a tearful Porsha, that she learned that he was filing for divorce on Twitter. Classy. And you know what? Just saying that word reminds me all over again how much I miss me some Sheree on this show. Sheree brought it: "Who gonna check me Boo? You?". A moment for Sheree, please.

Next we join Porsha as she lawyers up. Porsha tells us that she’s a single woman, completely on her own, ready to make her own way. The lawyer explains to her what a deposition is going to be like and Porsha fires the first salvo: warning us that Cordell won’t want to have her tell the public all the dirty shit that she’s got on him. I always found Cordell Stewart to be a super creepy, medieval control freak, so I’m like: bitch: bring IT! The people want to KNOW! Porsha tells her lawyer, through tears, that she’s going to deliver a list to Cordell of what she needs him to do in order to reconcile, if he blows her off then that’s it: D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Pssst: Porsha…we all know that you’re a kind of annoying, none-too-bright woman-child, but hell, girl, even YOU can do better than creepy-ass Cordell. Just think: you’ll be able to go to a restaurant and order your own wine if you want to and not have to drink a glass of soda instead. Let it go.

Next we join Cynthia as she does a kumbaya circle with her loyal “Bailey Boys” (e.g., her staff) as they sadly close up the Bailey Agency storefront. Why, you ask, are they closing? Well, because Cynthia’s SUPER fucking pain-in-the-ass-control-freak-runs-every-business-directly-into-the-ground-and-loses-all of-her-fucking-money old ass husband, Uncle Ben, (a.k.a., Peter), has unilaterally decided that he’s moving HER business storefront into some lame warehouse that HE bought directly across the street from HIS business, Bar One. As you may recall, Bar One is (according to some of the RHOA ladies) directly in one of Atlanta’s demilitarized zones. But, hey! If Uncle Ben thinks it’s a good business move then who is ANYONE to question his unquestionable business savvy. I give this crap-ass decision about six weeks before they’re directly in bankruptcy. Fucking moron. So anyway, Cynthia and her crew are lamenting having to vacate their cozy little corner of the world when in walks crazy-ass Uncle Ben who immediately begins to (a little too gleefully if ask me) rip up the flooring and announce that as their new landlord he’s gonna be “all up in their asses”. Oh, great. Meanwhile, in her talking head, Cynthia whines that she would have thought that, since he’s committing money that comes from both of them, that Uncle Ben might have consulted her BEFORE he made the decision and signed the contract. Yeah, Cynthia, ‘ya fucking pea brain, like he’s EVER consulted with you on how to spend YOUR money. Wake up, sister; you’re married to a MORON, you’re perfect for each other. Then, out of the blue, in walks Kenya Moore to everyone’s (feigned) surprise. Cynthia tells us that she hasn’t seen Kenya in several months and didn’t even know she was in the country. Uh, OK. So anyhoo, Cynthia tells Kenya that they’re moving across the street from Bar One and she’s going to be having an opening party and ALL the girls will be there. There’s some trifling bullshit convo about Kenya getting evicted – UNFAIRLY – of course and before you know it Kenya is bitching AGAIN about, who else? Her old “boyfriend” Walter and how pissed off she is that Nene invited Walter to her wedding. OK, we all know this but I have to say it: Kenya is pure, batshit crazy. Crazy.

Now we head over to Phaedra and Apollo who have moved to a new house in, as Phaedra tells us, “the Buckhead area, which is like Atlanta’s 90210”. Uh, Phaedra, coupla things here, one: nobody gives a rat’s ass what fucking neighborhood you moved to, and, seriously, 90210? Bitch, 1990 called, it wants its old-ass pop culture reference back. I seriously can’t stand Phaedra and let me just say right now, that not even pregnancy has improved her boobs but she’s still trying, in every scene, to convince us that she has some. Hell, I guess any old B-cup can squeeze out some pitiful cleavage with the right amount of duct tape. Anyway, she’s just had another kid and she’s dubbed him “Mr. President”. I won’t even dignify this with a comment. His name is Dylan, OK? Dylan. Phaedra comes strolling outside, babe in arms, to check up on Apollo and his management of the ongoing renovations. Apollo, wife-beater and various tats on display, worriedly asks her if she and the baby should be outside. Um, why? Because there’s air out here, Apollo? Because there’s light? WTF? Apollo joined the cast and the show’s collective IQ went down 50 points and there has never been much to spare in that department on RHOA. Hell, on any of the Real Housewives shows, truth be told. Phaedra spends some time whining about this and that and bitching to us about how Apollo’s continuous yawning is starting to really piss her off. She’s the one who just had the baby, for fuck’s sake. What’s HE doing yawning? “I’m the one that’s workin’ like a Hebrew slave.” Yes, yes, she did actually say those words. Low class hoe bag. On these interior shots I couldn’t help but be delighted to see that Phaedra and Apollo’s house could sub-in for an episode of “Hoarders”. Southern belle? Not so much, Phaed…not so much.

Kandi and her finance Todd are up next. She’s making him some breakfast and he’s whacking her ass (playfully of course) and well, they just seem to be genuinely happy. The rest of this scene is a whole bunch of expository, clunky dialogue, a Bravo specialty. Todd goes awkwardly on and on about his “production work” here there and everywhere. Atlanta, Boston, wherever he can get a gig. All this talk about Todd’s work ethic is the lead-in to what will clearly shape up to be the central conflict in the Kandi storyline this season: Kandi’s Mama DO NOT like Todd. She’s been trash talking him to anyone that’ll listen, about how he’s a free loader and a gold digger and only after her daughter’s money. Kandi offers that she’s pretty bummed that her Mama, to whom she’s very close, doesn’t see Todd in the same light as she does. Blah, blah, blah…family’s important…needs to get to know you…you should talk to your Mom about how important this is you…Yeah, it got pretty boring pretty fast. But Todd got a good lookin’ breakfast, ya’ll. Oh, and Kandi is writing a song for Jennifer Hudson…and she wrote “No Scrubs”. Hellerrrr….

Back to Nene, who is on her way to meet Porsha for lunch. Nene tells us that she has decided to “take Porsha under her wing, be a big sister to her” through this difficult, divorce-y time. At lunch the two women gush over each other for an interminable period of time, their outfits, their hair, their fucking manicures. Nene tells Porsha that she’s “gonna be all right” and that in fact Porsha appeared to be having a pretty good time on her own at Nene’s wedding. Porsha takes this opportunity to start the gush-fest all over again, this time focusing on Nene’s historically spectacular wedding which was “off the chain”. Another drama thread gets set up at this luncheon as we watch the newly joined Terrific Twosome of Nene and Porsha rip Kenya a new asshole for blowing off Nene’s wedding without even an RSVP! Porsha starts in on her wedding being between her, Cordell and the Lord. Oh, brother. This pseudo religious crap is really annoying and frankly my Nene is the only one out of this crowd that doesn’t indulge in that silly posturing. Nene tells us that Cordell acted like a queen that his crazy bitch behavior was a “queen move”. And so begins the party line this season that Cordell Stewart is gay, baby! This should be interesting. Kinda.

Cut to probably one of the most ridiculous scenes ever shot in ANY Real Housewives franchise. Porsha, her Mother (I think), and half-sister are sitting on a couch talking about the fact that post-deposition, Cordell pretty much told Porsha “hell no” on her list of conditions to reconcile. Babe, Cordell Stewart wants you GONE. It takes a few minutes, and a “in happier days” look back montage, but Porsha and her Mother manage to squeeze out some tears. OK, I’ll cop to Porsha’s looking pretty genuine, I mean, she IS getting divorced, after all. The Mother made crying sounds, certainly, and she scrunched up her face in a cry-ish expression, but I won’t swear that she was able to manufacture actual, real tears. The half-sister didn’t even try. In fact a couple of times I’d swear she looked like she was mightily trying not to laugh! Again, Porsha makes the pitch that Cordell isn’t shopping in the straight department by referring to herself and telling us that “Cordell didn’t want this sexually. I don’t know what he wanted.” Okey dokey, then.

In the EPs final sequence, everybody turns out for Cynthia’s grand opening party for the new and improved Bailey Modeling Agency in its thug-central new locale. The theme, ironically, is white; as in everyone has to wear white to this party. One by one all the ladies and their mens show up and hug and screech inarticulate greetings and air kiss each other but we know what we’re all waiting for and she finally arrives. Escorted by Miss Lawrence here comes Kenya, sporting a tied-below-the-bust handkerchief that doesn’t quite cover the wire in her underwire bra (just sayin’) and a skirt. So she’s showing some midriff skin which, considering she shills exercise videos looks pretty slammin’. Her talking head tells us that she’s entering the party sporting for a fight, expecting some bitch to come at her and she’s ready. “Bring it.” Oh, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya. Nene tells us that her plan for the night is to totally ignore Kenya. Precious. Nene barges in on Uncle Ben and insists that he take her and Grigg on a tour of the whole place. Right now. Uncle Ben obliges with an oddly bizarre leer at Nene. Uh, Uncle Ben? She’s married now. You’re married, too and what the fuck is sexual about “we want a tour of the place”? I’m thinking that maybe old-ass Uncle Ben might be in the early stages of Alzheimers. Phaedra’s magical gay Derrick saw Kenya heading over in the direction of Phaedra and decided to head off a scene by dragging Phaedra waaaayyy across the room. Phaedra’s talking head actually cracked me up in spite of my burning hatred for her. “Thank God for Derrick in his hot pants and heels. He whisked me right away from that beauty queen on bath salts.”

So finally we get to the piece-de-resistance for this evening’s festivities: the Nene and Kenya face off. Kenya volleys first with her bitching and moaning about how she’s been “tortured for the last two months and whenever I go through something nobody reaches out to see how I’m doing.” Nene responds with “Well, you know I was planning a wedding for 425 people and you didn’t reach out to me. So I’m going through things just like you’re going through things.” Then we get into the whole, yeah but you’re going through happy things and I was being evicted so it’s not the same oh yes it is planning a wedding is very stressful yeah but its good stress not bad stress like I was going through and on and on. Until finally we cut to the chase and Kenya gets to her point: did you invite Walter to your wedding? Again with the Walter obsession? Kenya, honey, you know they make lots of good meds for that. At that point Nene tells us that she didn’t want to get into a fight and that she wanted to remain a lady. Cut back to the party and this happened: Nene: “I’m leaving now Kenya.” Kenya: “Oh no you’re not.” Nene: “Kenya I gotta pee; you want me to pee in your glass?” Now that’s some ladylike shit, Nene Leakes-style and The ABIB’s gotta respect! Oh, BTW, Nene totes lied: she got into a big-ass, Nene-talking-louder-than-anyone-else fight with Kenya and she was all: "I'll invite anyone I want to MY EVENT! And when I have AN EVENT I ain't gonna be worrying about if Kenya Moore is uncomfortable with the guest list!" It occurred to me at that point that in the whole time that RHOA has been on the only person who could go toe-to-toe with loud mouth Nene and not back down was Kim Zolciak. Those two were a matched pair; none of these other relative shrinking violets have a chance with Neens. Just as a reminder: "Kim ain't nothin' but a low-down, dirty monkey wit a wig on." and "Nene, that big moose."

So there you have it, RHOA fans! The bad-ass ladies of ATL be back, honey and “The New Normal” or no “The New Normal”, Nene Leakes is STILL kicking it as the Queen Bee of all she sees. Stayed tuned next week for another recap from The ABIB!

Cialis: It's A Right Now Kinda Thang

Cialis is a prescription drug for erectile dysfunction. So, when old dudes can’t get their dick up they can take Cialis and bang until it falls off. There have been reports of erections lasting four hours or longer, so I’m guessing that some of them wish their dick actually would fall off. A commercial I just saw for Cialis offered us three different scenarios edited together as kind of a montage:

Scenario One: A man and a woman wearing T-shirts that say “Football” are sitting next to each other on the couch watching…presumably…football? The lady is all excited and jumps up off the couch when her team does something cheer-worthy. I’m guessing we’re shown that detail to prove that she’s, well, excitable. Back to them in a minute.

Scenario Two: A man and a woman are cleaning the clutter from their attic. I know, I know, who DOESN’T get a boner cleaning the attic? Well they’re sorting through a box of records and come across some old album that seems to bring back memories for both of them. Not sure if they’re great ones because the dude keeps shaking his head with an ironic smile on his face while he turns the album over and over and over. Who can read that fast? The look on his face seems to say: “Oh hell, yeah, I remember this record…I was wasted and you? You were passed out. I think it was the first time we screwed.” Back to them in a minute

Scenario Three: A man and a woman are outside appearing to refinish an old wooden crate. Um, why? Suddenly the dude, apropos of nothing, as they appear to not even be speaking to one another, begins to look at the woman with, frankly, a skeevy kind of stare. Unperturbed by this the woman, just as suddenly, returns his gaze, although she offers him a kind of blank smile, like she’s used to this from him. Back to them in a minute.

Bing, Bang, Boom! The Cialis kicks in and look out ladies; you all about to get SERVED a juicy dose of erectile dysfunction-fueled lovin’!

The cheering football lady presents her couch potato with a tray of food that would serve seven but it don’t matter because he gives her a look and who needs football, let’s fuck!

The attic cleaners put the old album on the old turntable and begin to dance. Who needs to clean this filthy craphole; let’s fuck!

The wooden crate-refinishing-duo finally toss those damn brushes and get it on instead. I guess that creepy stalker smile worked after all. Who needs to refinish this splinter-ridden piece of shit; let’s fuck!

So there you have it. Cialis kicks in and life takes a back seat because, well, those Cialis-infused dudes NEED TO FUCK RIGHT NOW! And why not some truth in advertising, Cialis hucksters? Why not show the poor sap four hours later crying in the emergency room because his dick won’t go down? As the commercial ends we see the Cialis emblem, which is a silhouette of a couple, each in their own, "it will only fit one person" bathtubs situated side-by-side, holding hands across the small distance that separates them. Um, what’s up with the skinny bathtubs? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the whole purpose of Cialis in the first place? Maybe there should be a warning on the package? MEN: DO NOT TAKE CIALIS IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN A SITUATION THAT WILL PREVENT YOU FROM FUCKING WITHIN 20 MINUTES! So to that dude in the bathtub: until you can relocate to a more fuckable location, DO NOT TAKE YOUR CIALIS, MAN; it’s gonna be hard to get it on in the little, tiny bathtub. Furthermore, woe be to you guys with a four hour boner; dude, that little bathtub has a little drain. You could get stuck and then where will you be? In William Howard Taft-ville that’s where. And with an image like that in your lady friend’s head…well, ain’t enough Cialis in the world gonna fix that my man.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Season Finale: They Go Out With A Whimper Not A Bang

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...Huh? Wha? Gosh, I'm sorry, I must have dozed off there. MOST. BORING. FINALE. EVER. As in EVER. What did I just watch? That was an hour of...nothing! For the first 20 minutes or so they just recapped the season. But I fast forwarded through that because I...watched it? OK, I thought, now we get to the good, fist pumping, punch-throwing, JSTA getting his little beanie ripped off and then hauled off to jail ACTION. But, uh, we didn't. Back we go to the Posche 2 opening party and everyone, and I mean everyone, is surrounding Penny and her oddball husband 'cause they got some 'splainin' to do and Melissa and JSTA are prodding them to do just that. Well, actually JSTA did make some googly-eyed, half-assed lunges at Penny's hubster while screaming, as he is normally wont to do, "SHE'S MY WIFE!! MY WIFE!!!" Yeah, JSTA, uh, we've all got that and since he's been tweeting up a fucking blow-job shitstorm about your little songbird, I'm pretty sure he knows that, too. Anyway, there's Melissa, demanding, DEMANDING, an explanation from Penny who prompty throws Thereser directly under the bus because, well, because it WAS Thereser who was the little devil whispering all the secret Melissa dirt into Penny's wired-to-In-Touch-magazine ear. All T could do was widen her eyes incredulously, which considering T has about a quarter inch of forehead to begin with, kinda put her big, black eyebrows in direct contact with her simian hairline. Melissa was surrounded by her posse, which is to say, the entire cast of RHONJ because thanks to the Adirondyke Mount-ins and Miraval, everyone is singing Kumbaya from the same sheet of Bravo music. Hilariously, Dirty C kinda went apeshit even more than JSTA, "ARE YOU HAPPY? ARE YOU? ARE YOU? YOU RUINED A FAMILY ARE YOU HAPPY?" which is saying something. Hey DC: ease down...ease down. Here's a suggestion: try ramping up your estrogen, babe, cause not only do you shave (which you've told us already in a previous season and that Big Al SR absolutely LOVES it) but you're kinda verging into Manlyville. In fact, maybe you're already kinda there. For real. So anyway, the crew is all around, backing up their girl Melissa and Penny shouts out for some help from Crack Hoe Kim D. Crack Hoe Kim D joins the fray, apparently still in full makeup from her audition for The Walking Dead. DAMN! That is one hard looking bitch, people. You do NOT want to cross Crack Hoe Kim D in a dark alley, my friends; she WILL cut a bitch. And likely has. Anyhow, Crack Hoe Kim joins the outer ring around Penny and her tweeting hubby but kinda just stares her scary-ass stare. So yeah, there was that. Then up comes that whiny-ass dipshit Jacqueline, who, now that she's safely surrounded by her husband, friends and sister-in-law DC (again who is just a chromosome away from growing a pair for real) she takes off on Penny and her man, snarling about how they tweeted nasty shit about her kid and what kind of monsters are they and blah, blah, blah. Jacqueline is human Valium, she really, really is. The fast forward button is SO my friend when it comes to that mealy-mouthed little idiot.

All at once everyone huffed out of the Posche 2 party in various states of outrage and that was it. End of THAT storyline, which need I remind RHONJ regular viewers, is pretty much the EXACT SAME END AS LAST FUCKING SEASON. Next day T and Jacqueline, over some giant goblets of vino, have a heart-to-heart and Jacqueline advises T to come clean with JSTA and Melissa. We see Thereser wrapping her mind around that notion and trying to remember her script as she considers that this might be the only way to "move forward" with JSTA. Comically she never mentions Melissa's name. Telling. But then again, I kinda can't stand Melissa so, I get it, T, I get it. Jacqueline suggests that Thereser should plan to make her confession to JSTA the next day at the BLK flavor tasting. WTF? So now it's not just going to be black water, it's going to FLAVORED black water. These morons are the limit. We get to see Dirty C in her talking head brag on and on and on about her AMAZINGLY successful and independent children and we are treated to some of the best clips from her loser kids' past, namely the one where she tells Little Al JR to never let anyone tell him that he can't do something. Um, OK. Dirty C is on a big-ass stroll down memory lane, walking through her giant house and revisiting some of the more wonderful memories of life in their heavily fortified compound. This is all just a big lead up to Dirty C's epiphany that, hell, she doesn't want the apartment in Hoboken, she wants to stay right here, because, well, there's no place like home. Cue the Wizard or Glinda or whoever Big Al SR is the stand-in for in this gag-worthy, "touching" shot who assures Dirty C that she can stay there as long as she likes. Big fucking whoop. Honestly, it's amazing I kept watching this bore-fest of a finale.

Next day everyone gathers at the BLK "office" to taste-test the potential new flavors of their sludge water and, well, who fucking cares about BLK anyway? Thereser drags JSTA over to a private spot and spills the beans to him about how she befriended the wrong people and that since she was "so mad at Melissa" she didn't speak up when the ladies started to trash M in earnest. She never owned up to being the dirt source, but rather took responsibility for being a silent witness to Melissa's downfall at the hands of other, more vicious and vindictive North Jersey trollops. And you know what? I kinda found myself nodding along with T 'cause lets fact it peeps, we've all been there, amirite? You're hatin' on someone and it's just plain old delicious FUN to hear others crap on that person. So they cried (again) and they hugged (again) and all is right in the Gorga/Guidice swirling inferno of drama as the season ends.

Our last shots are back at the Jersey shore, where the season began, in the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy and Thereser and JJ's beach house, which had been ruined by the storm. But! It's been rebuilt by JJ and now everyone's coming down-a shore for a cookout/hugathon/what-I-learned-this-season confessional epilogue. I'm thinking, "way to go, T, you got that good-for-nothing husband to at least make himself useful and fix up the beach house before his lying ass is deported. Our last talking head segment is Dirty C, pontificating as usual, the old, wise grand dame of the crew, jabbering on about how even when they hated each other they really loved each other and how even in their most spiteful phases any one of them would have come running at the drop of a hat if any of the others were in need. And I called BULLSHIT at the TV at that point because, honestly Dirty C, who the FUCK is going to believe that load of crap-ola? Your own expression tells me that YOU sure don't fucking believe it. So, yeah. And that's where we ended up, with a peek at the latest Guidice legal woes brewing and a hint that by next week's Reunion episode, some of the lovey-dovey glow has kind of worn off. So The ABIB will be back next week to recap the Reunion party, which if past seasons are any indication, should be kinda fun. Especially if that nitwit Lauren Manzo shows up. Stay tuned!

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap: A Penny For Your Tweets!

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The Real Housewives of New Jersey: Two! Two! Two Recaps In One!

So I'm gonna kinda punk out on this week's recap by adding in - at no additional charge to you - LAST WEEK'S recap! How about that? We begin - still - at Miraval, that healing camp for bored, rich first-worlders who just need to fucking HEAL PEOPLE! Well, our little rowdy band of revelers wrapped up their Heal-A-Palooza with the lamest "trust fall" I've ever seen. And that includes the drunken trust falls they did on their last night, in their last healing adventure, at the Adirondyke Mount-Ins. Yeah, this time they had to get all harnessed up, don their "don't crush your tiny skulls" helmets, and climb what looked to be a telephone pole circa 1945, with the tiny iron footholds and everything. Two at a time they scaled the heights (about 30 feet we are told) and hold on to each other as they take teeney-tiny steps along a wire. Clasped at the shoulders they are forced to lean into each other and slide along, usually no more than four or five steps before they step off and hang, harnessed, in mid-air only to be lowered to the dusty ground and congratulated by all the other trusters-in-waiting. Psssht. It was pretty stupid and I'm sure did nothing to actually build trust, which these silly exercises never do, anyway. So after the trust suspension bridge demonstration, everyone just headed back to their rooms to get ready to leave, but not before an evening of food and drank wherein everyone decided that the Guidices and the Gorgas needed to seriously bond together as a FAMILY to shut down all of the evil chatter, Twitter and otherwise, about Melissa's alleged blow jobs with her old boyfriend. Done and done. But not before JSTA flew into a completely unprovoked rage and threw his champagne glass smashing into the stone fireplace to the open astonishment of everyone. Melissa yanked him off screen but we can hear (and see in subtitles) the tongue lashing that she gives him offstage, several times calling him an idiot. Yeah, I'm predicting that Thereser will eventually be proved correct in that it's just a matter of time before Golddigger Melissa dumps her brotha for a richer dude. Really, really, really not feeling the love for Melissa these days.

Back in Joisey, the gang disperses into their respective lives: Thereser and Jacqueline are back in love, Katy has struck a deal with an event planner to help kick-start her cannolli biz, and Melissa is alternately reinvigorating her singing "career" and continuing to hunt down the source of the blow job rumors. Ahem...even though she pledged to stop doing that back at the Miraval final night Kumbaya "we're all one fambly" close out. Turns out the blk storyline is still alive - amazingly - since last we heard about it two of the three super loser Manzo kids, namely the boys Little Albie and Chris the Barely Cognizant, had seemingly washed their hands of the whole blk schtick and were focusing their monumentally loser-y business acumen on opening a New Jersey themed restaurant. Anyhoo, their Uncle The Bankroller - Chris Laurita - tells JSTA over a glass or 10 of vino, that blk is still alive and well but that it's "alot of work". In fact, it's SO alive and well that they're getting ready to have the blk imprimatur host some kind of sports themed charity event for autism. Basketball will be played! Blk will be shilled! Jacqueline Laurita will sob annoyingly as she struggles to deliver the keynote speech! Yeah, that last one really did happen and it was, as Jacqueline's appearances on screen always are, majorly B-O-R-I-N-G. FF button is my friend when it comes to Jacqueline. But you already knew that.

Kathy and her crew, laden with about 1,000 business cards, a big ol' poster and tons of cannollis, head into the Big Apple to make a sales pitch appearance at Dylan's Candy Bar a NYC biz owned by none other than Dylan Lauren, daughter of Ralph Lauren. Of course neither Dylan nor her father are anywhere in sight, but drama ensues anyway, as the Wakile family struggle to get their shit together and get the fuck out of Jersey and across the bridge. Once there, Kathy pitches a fit when none of her "personally invited" family or friends appear at the store to support her in this, the launch of her business. Not a one. King Douchebag calls them - ironically - "douchebags" and he lamely tells Kathy: "I'm here". Yeah you are KD, you are. Being the good egg that she is, Kath soldiers on and they all finally show the fuck up, but pretty late. No problem, Kathy the Doormat greets them with open arms and big smiles, thanking them profusely for coming out to support her. Poor Kathy.

Melissa and JSTA also make their way across the river into the big city to meet with Johnny Wright, music producer extraordinaire, to pitch him on repping Melissa. Yeah, Melissa who fucking can't sing her way out of a paper bag but who, nonetheless, is convinced that stardom is def in her future. I don't know who Bravo had to pay off to get this guy on the show but it's just as likely that, being the fame whore that he is - according to his Wikipedia entry - Mr. Wright was just looking for the free face time on air to pimp out his vast music production compound in Orlando. He proceeds to tell the Gorgas that if Melissa wants to be in the biz she's gonna have to jettison her family and COMMIT BITCH! He agrees to stop by Chez Gorga with some of his posse to check out her in-house studio and hear her attempt to sing one of his stable of writers' new songs. So, with the song writer and an A&R girl in tow, Mr. Wright appears at da Gorga crib and downstairs they all go. I don't think I need to tell you but I will: MELISSA CAN'T SING!!! She makes all kinds of fucked up excuses and insists that she hears distracting static in her headphones which nobody else can hear, but basically the bitch can't hit a single note straight. It's embarrassingly bad and everyone from the Wright Production House is clearly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, Mr. Johnny tells Melissa that she needs to come down to HIS production world in Orlando and let the Wright team work her over. Melisa looks way queasy but nods "yes". Enough of that storyline and for any of you that follow the Atlanta housewives, this plot line is exactly like Kim's foray into "singing".

Finally we get Melissa and JSTA - AGAIN - out for a date night dinner ("I love you in leather" JSTA purrs creepily) when who should Melissa spy with her little eye but the infamous PENNY up at the bar! Now Penny is the vehicle through which the blow job rumors have been surfacing but Melissa and JSTA want to know: WHO IS FEEDING YOU THIS INFORMATION PENNY? Three fucking guesses. Lovey dovey "we've all made up and are moving forward as a fambly" Thereser. DUN DUN DUN...! Um, is anyone ON EARTH suprised by this yawn-inducing "dramatic reveal"? Who DIDN'T see this coming? So next week's preview shows an outraged Thereser being confronted by Penny with Melissa and JSTA listening on avidly. Should be good, right? RIGHT? Anyway, it should be...well...something. See you next week!

It's Just Horseshit, People!

Ladies and Gentlemen, this week was likely the lamest, most annoying episode EVER of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. We again join these miscreants at Miraval - the healing resort in the middle of the Arizona desert - and Heal-A-Palooza is still in full-blown healing mode. This week the gang is escorted out to the horse corral where a pretty dubious character, who introduces himself as Wyatt and self-identifies as a "therapist", welcomes the crew to the next level of True Confessions. For real. Wyatt explains that the horse standing beside him is especially attuned to "inauthenticity" and so one-by-one, they're going to have to come on up and try to clean some shit out of his front leg's horseshoe. Yeah, you read that right. Apparently this horsie don't play, ya'll. If you ain't bein' rill, he WILL NOT allow you to scrape shit out of his front left horseshoe. Okaaayyyy...now I have horse people in my immediate family and I'm pretty sure any one of them would call "bullshit" on this nonsense. But being that all of the RHONJ goombas are city slickers nobody's about to issue the challenge that would unmask Wyatt...if that's even his name. DUN DUN DUN.....First one up is Drunk Ass Rosie and pretty much immediately she starts to boo-hoo and Wyatt, being the "therapist" that he alleges, eggs her on with the aim of getting her "let it out". Apparently our Rosie has been playing second fiddle her whole life and has never felt like she matters or is worth much. Wyatt knows authenticity when he hears it and invites DAR to give the shit cleaning catharsis a whirl. Like magic, she slides her hand down the horsie's foreleg and right away he obliges her by lifting his hoof in the air so that she can scrape some shit out of the grooves in his horseshoe. Everyone is delighted, especially DAR, who, just moments ago was crying about some pretty fucking serious issues but is now magically all smiles because SHE GOT THE HORSE TO LIFT HIS HOOF! Hell, at this point I'M calling bullshit on this crap. But everyone is super happy for DAR as she returns to her seat, presumably cured of a lifetime's worth of low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness and all it took was five minutes with Wyatt and his wonder horse. Aaaamazing!

DAR is followed by her sister Kathy and King Douchebag and Wyatt tears KD a new one, calling him out on his use of "humor" to avoid feeling real feelings and for minimizing Kathy and ignoring her "voice". Throughout Wyatt's chastisement of KD, Kathy looks on silently with the ever-so-subtle look of "I told you so, motherfucker" playing across her face. Then her talking head basically says: "I told you so, motherfucker." Much love for poor, ignored Kathy. BTW, horsie let's Kath clean his hoof but won't budge for King Douchebag. Yeah, baby.

Next up: Melissa, who has elected to attend the horse corral stage show wearing what must have been her costume at the pole when the strip joint had "Western Theme Night". Basically her ass is barely covered by the mini, mini jeans shorts she's wearing with a crop top and cowboy boots. Make it rain, Melissa! She saucily sways up to Wyatt and his horse and he immediately calls her out as a big, old whore! HAH! I have to say I did love that part. He tells everyone that Melissa has just done the "whore stroll". Surprisingly JSTA doesn't haul off and level him. But whatever, there she is and of course immediately cops an attitude and won't give Wyatt a straight answer on anything. Evasive and looking way bored, Melissa is then invited to try and pass the shit scraping test which she summarily fails. Big time. Whatever, says Melissa, as she haughtily returns to her seat. JSTA came up next but he was just too scared of the horse to get close enought to pet him let along lean down and lift his hoof. Wyatt dismisses him straightaway. Next up is Jacqueline who, like Drunk Ass Rosie, is crying before she even gets up to Wyatt and his horse. But unlike Rosie, Jacqueline is ALWAYS fucking crying so...so what? Again she's going on and on about Thereser and...well, I've warned you all before in this blog, I canNOT remember what the hell Jacqueline says because she is BORING!! Next up is Thereser who takes one look at the horse and says: "Nope. Not gonna do it." And walks away. We are promptly shown a shot of JJ walking away from the crew as he makes a call. Uh oh, the Bravo dupesters want us to think: here goes Juicy Joe again, just like last year, calling some hoebag in the middle of a group outing. But NO! This year his call is to their kids and T walks away with him to join in the chat. For which they are chastised by Wyatt when they return to the group - he calls them out on using their cell during what is supposed to be a meaningful team activity. Obviously he's never met the Guidices because clearly they couldn't give a rats ass and make that abundantly clear.

Now it's time for Dirty C and Big Al SR. In her talking head segment DC has told us that she is TOTALLY into this exercise because she LOVES horses. Yay! So, up they go and Wyatt immediately is sympatico with both of them, telling them that their obvious love and devotion for each other is "a beautiful thing". Then out of nowhere he asks Big Al SR: "were you abused?" WHAT WHAT?? Hell, turns out he was and gets all teary-eyed telling the tale of his "difficult father who was pretty tough on him". Awkward throat clearing and eyes looking everywhere but at him...and that was just ME. So yeah, there was THAT.

Finally we get Juicy Joe who, with virtually zero prompting from Wyatt, offers up that he's kinda scurred about what's going to happen to him at his upcoming hearing for lying about getting a driver's license. Now, this was all filmed long before the most recent Guidice brush with the law which, far more serious than falsifying a driver's license, is all about defrauding multiple banks and other financial institutions and could actually get his ass deported back to Italia! But for this show he was all worried about having to go to jail and his kids growing up without their Daddy for a few years and EVERYONE was SHOCKED! SHOCKED! That Juicy Joe came clean with his worries about this stuff. JSTA even devoted his talking head segment to giving JJ serious props for being so honest. Which I found hilarious in light of recent events. I mean, honest? Not so much.

And that concluded the Wyatt and his magically sensitive horse segment. We are next treated to Thereser and JJ alone with their vino in their private hot tub having a heart-to-heart about the upcoming legal entanglements. I pretty much couldn't get past T's seriously ugly G-string, sparkle bikini. At what age do those become just not cool? I'm guessing somewhere around, like 30? Not a good look, T.

As evening falls the gang heads over to some group lodge food and drinks hang-out but on the way are stopped mid-path by some dude in full American Indian war regalia who enlists them in some serious drumming. Everyone joins in as he encourages them to all get in the same drumming rhythm so that it sounds like a "giant heartbeat that will heal the world", Now, that's just plain goofy. They all drum for about three minutes and then he bids them a fond goodnight. Finally the episode ends in a typical RHONJ eating and drinking extravaganza wherein Thereser and Jacqueline break away from the crowd and repledge their love to one another and restart their friendship by throwing some paper into the firepit and scraping the bottoms of each other's shoes. There you have it, folks. The preview for next week shows some kind of drunken shouting match which I'm guessing is heralding the approach of this season's end. Tune in next week to find out what trifle they decide to drunk-fight about next!

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap: Strep Throat! Bikinis! Camel Toe! Oh, My!

So this week was part one of yet another two-parter wherein the NJ guidos and guidettes get to travel on Bravo's dime outside of their great state in order to...HEAL! Shit, even the Atlanta ladies (fuck, ESPECIALLY the Atlanta ladies) don't need this much out of town lady time. Two trips for these wackos but this time without Dr. Eyetalian Vajayjay. No, this time they've been whisked off to that epicenter of spirituality, Arizona. Just lucky none of them is Hispanic, amiright? Anyhoo, in honor of wife Melissa's b-day, JSTA decided it would be way cool to get the whole gang to join them on a jaunt way out west. Melissa was less than thrilled with the idea, but hubby wasn't buying it. Largely because that's the way the season has been written. One by one the familia were invited and accepted to jet out to Healing Central...some dude ranch whose specialty is spirit "energists" and open doors and windows which, one evening, let a fucking bat into someone's bedroom. Everyone, including the dudes, hid behind pillars screaming like girls while Big Al SR shooed it out with an M-16 that he brought with from The Brownstone. Not really, it was just a broom. Once again, Melissa was deathly ill with something that was making her throat hurt with "the worst pain I have ever felt in MY LIFE!" To this JSTA scoffs, calling bullshit by reminding her that she's had three kids. No, says Melissa, this pain is way worse. Every week and in every way, Melissa is getting my wholehearted vote for most annoying after Jacqueline. And for anyone reading this that knows my feelings on Jacqueline, that is saying something. Speaking of Jacqueline, she, Chris Laurita, Dirty C and Big Al SR are on a later plane from the rest of the bimbo contingent and get waylaid in some airport for a really long time so, yeah, we get to see THAT. Jacqueline's even boring when we're not hearing specifically about her boring-ass, first world "problems".

So they get to Hacienda Healing and everyone retires to their open-air rooms, which, truth be told would NOT work for The ABIB. The ABIB and the great outdoors do not mingle well. I was getting the creepy crawlies just watching people unpack and prepare to sleep in rooms with no screens in the giant windows and no doors. See above: BATS!? Of course, King Douchebag has to make an obnoxious spectacle of himself, and when told to SHUSH that he's walking through the "quiet room", he chooses instead to trumpet out a giant fart. To which Drunk Ass Rosie yells: "JERSEY IN DA HOUSE". Oy. So, right away everyone's headed out to some pool/hot tub gizmo outside of JSTA and Melissa's room, and they are OF COURSE, deep into the vino already and Thereser's doing some seriously butch push-ups in one of her several tiny bathing suits. We hear the voice of (presumably) Juicy Joe in the pool with JSTA, tell her that after all these years she still looks sexy. She girlishly thanks...her husband? her brother? We'll never know but her coy little giggle is way icky considering we all know that Thereser has bigger balls than any man on the show. Hell, she's even got bigger cohones than Dirty C. Yeah, I went there. Well, just about this time King Douchebag enters the picture, with, of course, his wife, the long-suffering Kathy and proceeds, ONCE AGAIN, to out-douchebag himself by warning Melissa, reclining on a chaise lounger and catching some rays, to be careful because the bottom of her tiny bikini is displaying some serious camel toe. Yes, that's what he said in front of HIS wife and Melissa's husband. Melissa, being the numbnut that she is, just tsks gratuitously but doesn't seem at all disturbed by the fact that King Douchebag is looking directly at her twat and announcing it, without a hint of shame, to everyone within earshot. King Douchebag: he's always good for bringing the class and lowering the bar on what is already a gutter-dwelling affair. JSTA splutters some kind of "offense" wondering aloud why KD is looking at his wife's twat, but everyone laughs because this low brow chit chat is right in their wheelhouse. Yay! I should take a shower now...

So, after a day at the pool the rest of the gang finally arrives from their 16 hour trip from HELL and the party swings into serious HIGH HEALING gear. It's now nighttime at the Cozy Corral and the first special guest is some lady who introduces herself as someone who does "energy work". Turns out that means that she's some kind of half-assed medium and starts immediately to fish for hints from the gang about people that have "gone on". At this point I'm picturing a Family Guy episode that parodied the medium shows that used to be on..."I"m getting a "J"...any "J"....how about an "M"? No "M"...well stop me when I get there..A? B? C? D?" You get the picture. This lady is sitting with a group of Italians so she goes for the safe guess..."I'm getting a Maria? Does Maria mean anything to any of you?" In spite of his desperate attempt to remain skeptical with the other manly men, JJ offers that his grandmother was named Maria. The look on the medium's face says it all: "like shooting fish in a barrel". She tells JJ some trifle about how his grandmother is watching over them and blah, blah, blah. Certainly no specifics. Then she turns her focus to King Douchebag and Kathy and asks if there was anyone with a weak heart...heart trouble in the family? King D looks shocked and says that his father died of a heart attack. Again...not to be too cynical here, but is it any wonder that among a group of middle-aged people SOMEONE would have a relative SOMEWHERE in the family tree that had had heart trouble? Sheesh. Anyway, King D got real emotional real fast and before we could say "Bob's Your Uncle" he was sobbing over his deceased father and well, I just didn't know what to do. Fuck, I'm thinking: this is KING DOUCHEBAG and he's crying on TV! Even in his talking head sequence he couldn't continue talking because he was so choked up. The ABIB is nothing if not honest and I'm not proud of myself here, but shit, man, I had to grab for a tissue, folks. Kathy was crying and all the other dudes were looking up and down and side to side, anywhere but directly at KD for fear that they, too, would end up boo hooing on national TV. I mean he's still a total dick but DAMN, he sure did love his father! ABIB's gotta respect. So, the medium got Kathy next, once again invoking the spirit of HER dead father with some vague "details" that apparently were all the proof that Kathy and Drunk Ass Rosie needed to convince them that their Dad was whispering sweet nothings to them through the medium's attentive ear. This brought some more crying and soul searching as Kathy confessed that she had not had a chance to tell her father that, in spite of their differences, she loved him before he died. Yeah, I was about ready for a commercial break at this point. Blessedly I got one.

Next day it's time for a hike and we join Melissa and JSTA in their room where M is chugging down some horse pills and moaning that she's dying and has never, EVER felt pain like this before. As captured above, JSTA's response (which I found very amusing) was basically to call "bullshit" on her and say: whatevs, he's going for a hike in the Arizona cacti. When next we see Melissa, everyone has left her for said hike but she don't care because she's back out on her sun chair slathering on the baby oil to catch some more rays. Cop to it, Melissa: that was SO an act to get rid of everyone because clearly THIS is what you wanted to do all along. Hey, it's your birthday; go for it! Everyone else, including a whining Dirty C, head out into the desert with their hiking guide, who looks eerily like Opie from the Lake George incident, but, whatever. They hike for a little while and then stop at this next spiritual station where a ring of chairs are around a firepit and some new lady spirit guide is waiting for them. Turns out this next ritual is that everyone has to write down something that they want to rid their life of and then put it into the firepit and let it go as it burns up. I gotta be honest with you guys, I really only one quarter watched this part because it was kinda boring, but I did tune in when Jacqueline called Thereser up to stand next to her as she burned up her paper which had something like "resentment and bitterness" written on it. So, Jacqueline has been hinting that she reallllllly missed T, but that she can't reallllllly trust her so much after all the shit that's gone down between them. But, never mind! This little paper burning exercise seals the deal and she and T embrace and alls well again in their world. That is, until Thereser makes the mistake of saying that from now on she (T) wants to be better because when you're shitty to other people it can bring bad karma on your kids. Now actually what I heard was Thereser specifically saying that SHE didn't want HER bad behavior to bring bad karma down onto HER DAUGHTERS. What Jacqueline heard was Thereser alluding that since Jacqueline had been such a shitty bitch, the karma gods cursed her kid with autism. Yeah, she really, really, really heard it go down that way. But I'm here to tell you that it didn't; Jacqueline is a crazy-ass, confused little ninny.

So that's the set up for next week's Arizona storyline: Jacqueline getting Chris all riled up over the imagined slur that Thereser never uttered but which Jacqueline will swear that she heard. Oh yeah, and also: there appears to be some more "healing" with some old dude who has a horse and is asking Big Al SR: "were you abused?" Oh, yeah, it's gonna get all kinda weird up in there. Join me, wont' you?

The Tummy Tucking, Double Chin Lifting Calm Before The Bitch Slap Storm

So, once all the manly-men got the Fight Club shit out of their systems and Dr. Vajayjay left in a vaporizing cloud to the strains of Dean Martin crooning “That’s Amore”, everyone returned to their respective palatial estates filled with family love. As if. But seriously, for two EPs we watch as the Guidices and Gorgas join in Big Happy Family dinners with seriously FAKE love for each other’s’ kids and bonding between Tio Joe and Gia over pizza and drag racing where she basically shames him for being a douche to her mother. Awkwaaaard. Oh and I must not be the only viewer totally disengaged from the Laurita’s disabled kid storyline, because we’re also treated to the trumped-up drahma around Jacqueline jetting off to sunny LA to get some much-needed plastic surgery. Now, The ABIB’s feelings about plastic surgery are: unless you’ve been in a disfiguring accident and/or surgical procedure, plastic surgery is about THE most self-centered, narcissistic behavior in which a person can engage and proof that you have way too much money. So, no surprises here, the most boring person on this show needs to manufacture some interest in her boring life for all of us viewers, so she decides that she absolutely MUST have a tummy tuck and a chin lift. Well, all of the other housewives and some of their husbands, are aghast at this news. Jacqueline is GORGEOUS! Jacqueline is CRAZY; she’s too BEAUTIFUL to need plastic surgery! At her age it’s NUTS TO GO UNDER THE KNIFE! OK, ease up motherfuckers, GORGEOUS? Jacqueline? For real? She’s got a nose like a prize fighter, googly eyes and kinda weird shaped lips. Hardly gorgeous. Heck she’s barely attractive. But away she goes to Dr. Knife-Wielder-To-The-Stars, but first she goes shopping with Kathy to buy some sexy pajamas to wear at the hospital. I’m already sick of Jacqueline and this is really just the icing on my rage cake for her. Who’s going to be looking at you and your sexy PJs at the hospital, J? Fucking idiot.

We have heard over and over how stressed out her life is, what with the disabled child, which, again, as I’ve said on this blog before, I’m leaving alone because, well, just because. But they keep shoving it in our faces how STRESSED she is and how OVERWHELMED she is and how she’s ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN. Now, I’ve known folks with autistic children and yes, it is a stressor and yes, they do struggle mightily with a myriad of issues around a loved child. But you can’t tell me that someone like pampered housewife Jacqueline Laurita doesn’t have full access to all of the specialized childcare and professional intervention that money can buy. Hey, Jacqueline: try having a disabled child on a waitress’ salary. Maybe then you can cry and moan about how shitty your fucking life is. The ABIB can’t abide these embarrassingly entitled women bitching about how fucking difficult their lives are. Jacqueline: STFU! So, all gussied up with her sexy ‘jams and her much needed break from her dreadfully horrifically stressful life, our little bitch heads out to LA where she is greeted by a much-improved Ashley. Or is it Ashleigh? Or Ashlee? Whatever, little Ash is all growed up and actually behaving…pretty great, I must say. She takes Mom out for dinner the night before surgery, accompanied by her grandparents (J’s parents) where Jacqueline proceeds to slam down tequila shot after tequila shot and eats a plate of some kind of cheesy goo that would choke a rhino. All of which are in direct defiance to her doctor’s orders for what she’s allowed to have in her system heading into this procedure. Ash is distressed; she’s concerned that her mother is submitting willfully to surgery that she doesn’t need and everyone knows that any surgery carries risks. Ash is actually sounding pretty great. Who knew? Stupid-ass Jacqueline doesn’t care; she’s hammered and tomorrow she’s getting X number of pounds of fat and extra skin removed from her midsection so that she can wear a bikini again. Oh woe is Jacqueline…first world problems that even the rest of us first worlders find abhorrent. Then its surgery day and here’s where Bravo really pisses me off. We see the fake surgery set and the fake anesthetized Jacqueline with the fake breathing tube inserted and…how do we know it’s fake? Because the supposedly in-surgery Jacqueline is WEARING A FULL PROFESSIONALLY APPLIED FACE OF MAKEUP!!!

Now the Bravo-constructed “drama” is: OMG!! THE SURGERY IS TAKING LONGER THAN EXPECTED!! IS SHE GOING TO DIE ON THE TABLE SURROUNDED BY HER FAT AND EXCESS SKIN?? DO WE GIVE A RAT’S ASS?? Oh, hell no, because it’s manufactured bullshit. Ho. Have. A. Seat. See this is just plain wrong. To gin up some fake drama around an ELECTIVE SURGERY THAT DOESN’T EVEN FIX SOMETHING WRONG, is an insult to anyone who’s had to endure a surgery because they are actually sick with something. Fuck you, Bravo. And fuck you, Jacqueline you idiotic, narcissistic moronic asshat. See, now I’m completely through with her. Just so you know, dear reader, you will only now hear about Jacqueline in this blog if she is reactive in another storyline because as of right now I am fast-forwarding through any Jacqueline footage. Done and done.

Little Albie’s boyfriend Gregg is moving to San Francisco presumably until the show can find another former hooker to stand in as Little Albie’s “girlfriend” on the show. The last one, a “cheerleader” didn’t work out, I guess, because she showed up and just as quickly was dumped. So, Dirty C throws a farewell party for Gregg and all the usual suspects show up. Dirty C unveils a special gift that she had made for Greggy as a reminder for him of when he and Albie first became “friends”. He unwraps the gift and it’s a custom-made wall hanging that reads: “Take Care of Each Other”. Hmmm….sorry folks, but this is something you’d give to a couple as a wedding gift, amiright? I mean, it’s a lovely sentiment, but WTF? Dirty C also breaks down into wracking sobs as she makes a farewell toast to Greggy and everyone looks kind of uncomfortable and weirded-out at her overwrought display. Dirty C also appears in this EP getting yelled at by Big Albert Sr., to basically say what I’ve been saying to her all the fuck along: STFU! Big Albert is totes annoyed at how DC keeps nagging Little Albie to be more confident and to embrace his hidden greatness. And do exactly what she wants him to do with his life. So there was that. It’s strange that whenever any of the Manzo kids appear in the show they ALL appear in the show and whichever of them aren’t being featured basically sit there like mute statutes staring blankly at the sibling whose storyline is being advanced. They fucking ALWAYS creep me out. All of them.

So there you have it. In the "coming next week" preview we see the newly stomach-stapled and supposedly svelte "Bitch From Hell" Lauren Manzo blowing off her still fat boyfriend Vito when he brings up marriage. Can I say right here and now that I straight up fucking HATE Lauren Manzo? She is everything that is wrong with entitled America. Well, I guess all these assclowns are, actually. Anyway, poor sausage-eating Vito is now ready to get hitched but Lauren, her bored (or is it just dully stupid?) eyes stare mutely at the poor guy and in her coming-next-week talking head shot tells us that she used to want to get married, but now she's so over that stuff. What's the rush? she asks us. To this waste of earth space I say: bitch you better grab this dude while you got the chance because ain't nobody else knocking at your door nor are there likely to be any. To poor Vito I say: Man, you just dodged a MAJOR bullet...now politely excuse yourself and RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE!! But in the real “coming next week” piece we see the fake family happiness between the Guidices and Gorgas beginning to head south. The catalyst is a story appearing in some national rag or other with an exceedingly unflattering (YAY) photo of Melissa on the cover and the headline text proclaiming that “a good friend” has reported that Melissa is cheating on her husband, the little ape that we lovingly know as Joey Still The Ape, JSTA. In the preview Melissa and JSTA and Thereser are at some kind of social event and Melissa is confronting her “friend” Jan who is the source of the nasty story and Jan basically blows her off with a toss of her head and a wave of her hand. In its typical ham-fisted manner, Bravo keeps focusing the camera on Thereser’s face throughout this bitter exchange. Yeah, we get it, Bravo: THERESER IS THE SOURCE!! Heading toward the season finale let the downward spiral of family love begin!

The Wrassle At The Castle: Part Three

Most of this episode was listening to Dr. Eyetalian Vajayjay speak quietly to Thereser, JSTA and Melissa using all the active listening skills available to her from her University of Phoenix course in behavioral psychology. Which is to say we heard alot of "I hear what you're saying but..." and..."can you look at Theresa when you say those words?...and..."you guys need more alone time for just the two of you and nobody else." That last one was frankly kinda wierd, but you gotta know what you're going to get when you engage someone who specifically states that her vagina is "all Italian". I gotta say, though, that listening to Thereser describe how she and her mother practically wiped JSTA's ass until he got married told me alot about this somewhat suffocating brother/sister relationship picture that has emerged over the last few seasons. Thereser talked about JSTA more like a son than a brother and the look on his face made me think even more than ever that JSTA is really, really kinda slow mentally. Like without using that bad word that starts with an "r" and has become a denizen of the verbal plutonium list in polite conversation. Not that this blog would EVER pretend to be even remotely polite. But even The ABIB has limits, so...

Anyway, in the space of only one commercial break, Dr. V cured what by all intents and purposes, has been presented to us as long years of built up resentment and outright murderous hostility amongst the Gorgas and Guidices. They families hadn't spoken nor seen each other in 18 months, yet Dr. V and her magical Eyetalian Vajayjay had them all singing Kumbaya (including a grudging Juicy Joe) within 15 minutes. Bravo is SO setting her up for her own show. You heard it here first. Once the crocodile tears were shed and everyone hugged and made nice, Dr. V departed, like Mary Poppins sans umbrella, to her next miraculous cure and/or the film set for her Bravo pilot.

Back in the dining room, those left behind, namely everyone save the Joes, Thereser and Melissa, were steadily drinking their Mimosas and Bloody Marys and morosely conjecturing what was going on upstairs. The best part though, is that Dirty C, who ostensibly raced up to the drama as soon as she got T's call, was left twiddling her thumbs with the rest of the second stringers in the dining room. Why did I love that part, you ask? Because FOR ONCE Dirty C, who supposedly HATES DRAMA yet always inserts herself into the middle of it, was left in the "professional problem solver" wake of Dr. V and her University of Phoenix uber-cred. Yeah, Dirty C, even if Dr. V DID get her "degree" in an online fake "university" at least she got something to show for her pratlling nonsense. HAH!

Now that everyone was all lovey-dovey again, the boys and Drunk Ass Rosie decided to go ice fishing and the girls commenced to cooking and drinking in earnest. Also, hang-dog Kathy was griping under her breath about being left out yet again, of the Thereser "I want to be a fambly" drama because - "hey - ain't I fambly to her?" Sorry, Kath, you may be my favorite but you're just not crazy and/or obnoxious enough to be included in the nut-o-thon swirling around the Gorgas and Guidices. And I know it might hurt but trust me, sister, it's for the best. So the boys head out, with their own hootch, natch; Christ can't any of these fucking goons go for half an hour without drinking? They employ the service of a local ice fisherman to charter them their own private tiptoe through (around?) the frighteningly thin ice - shit some of it was melted down to the water - to their fishing hole. The camera kept capturing his expression, a cross between frightened and doubtful that anyone this stupid could even walk upright, as the boys engaged in what they do best - trash talking and bitching about each other to their faces. JJ taunted JSTA with the question: "You gonna cry again?" For his part JSTA stared dumbly at his bro-in-law but said nothing. Good on you, JSTA - it's 2013; men, even hopped-up-on-steriods goombas like you, are allowed to cry. Hells Bells, even Tony Soprano cried for fucks sake!

Back at the Castle the girls were cooking up a storm, except for Melissa, who announced shortly after the party began that she didn't want to cook, she just wanted to drink. And that she did; Melissa got shit-faced hammered and it was during this sequence, when her guard was drastically lowered by the alcohol, that it became clear to me what a nasty bitch Melissa really is. She always plays the victim card on RHONJ, but honestly she came across as just plain mean and nasty and I've officially benched her down with Dirty C and her pain-in-the-ass kids as the lowest common denominator on this show. Feh.

The boys quickly tired of sitting on the ice and hanging fishing rods into the water below and decided it was time to trudge on back, which they did to the great relief of their "guide". Once back at the Castle they, too, began to binge drink with their women folk and soon everyone was eight sheets to the wind and they decided to play some trust games. Um, why? Because BRAVO WROTE IT THAT WAY, THAT'S WHY! The game they finally landed on (pun intended) was "trust falls". You know the drill, someone has to fall backwards into the arms of another person to prove that they, the falling person, trusts the catching person. Drunk-to the-point-of-word-slurring Melissa insisted that she had to trust fall with Juicy Joe - and be the catcher! Everyone tried mightily to talk her out of it. For one thing, he appears to outweigh her by about 80 pounds and for another thing she was DRUNK and wearing a pair of her ubiquitous stilletto heels. But she would have none of it and soon we were treated to the sight of a drunk JJ falling into an even drunker Melissa and them both crashing to the floor which caused everyone - also trashed - to be delighted at the sight of those two collapsed in a heap on the carpet. Drunk people are cute for about three minutes and then they get really old really fast. Finally Thereser insisted that Dirty C do her trust fall with T as the catcher. Dirty C put up a decently timed fight but T got her way, with one stipulation from Dirty C, namely that Thereser call Jacqueline and make peace. Probably not even realizing in her boozy haze exactly what she was agreeing to, Thereser said "OK". Back Dirty C fell into Thereser's waiting arms and nobody fell down, thereby ending the drunk evening as everyone retreated to their respective rooms. JSTA, continuously needing to prove his manhood, outloud, to everyone, hoisted a loaded Melissa across his shoulders and loudly announced as he headed upstairs that he wasn't going to waste any more time getting some good drunk sex with his wife. Hell she probably wouldn't even remember it. Hmmmm...isn't that called date rape in another sitch? Just sayin'.

So next week we're back to New Jersey and the daily issues plaguing these fretful nimcompoops. Little Town is behind schedule and Dirty C is all back in her kids' shit, especially Little Al, who in the preview, appears to be too serious for her taste. I will conclude with one of my old saws: Dirty C: STFU. See you next week!

The Wrassle At The Castle: Part Two

Here's what happened:

drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drinkdrink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink,

Then, from last week's ending preview:

Thereser: GROW SOME BALLS AND STICK WITH YA BLOOD!
JSTA: I AIN'T GONNA STICK WITH SCUM LIKE YOU!
Thereser: JOE! HE CALLED ME SCUM; WE'RE GETTIN' OUTTA HERE!
JJ: IMMA MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE!! JJ chugs his drink, storms back into the "ballroom" and DEMANDS that JSTA "APOLOGIZE"!! And then:

punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch, punch,screech, screech, screech, screech, sreech, screech, screech, screech, screech, screech, screech, screech, screech, everyone getting some icky black shit all over their hands and shirts and basically anywhere that touched the punch, punch, punch, punch...and you get the picture.

JSTA: So turns out I use black dye on my head to make it look like I got more hair than I do. Looks like it got all over everything. HAH!

In between all of the punching and drinking and screeching Opie and Little Miss Sunshine took the fuck off. All the crazies retreated to their respective rooms where they continued drinking and cussing out everyone and packing and getting the fuck out of there. Melissa was A Stripper On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown and JSTA COULD NOT stop crying and JJ and Thereser got into their hot tub and ORDERED ROOM SERVICE. And started telling all the viewers what they were going to do to each other and well, in the middle of this already beyond horrific sitch, here comes the poor, poor room service delivery guy and they say: COME IN! And in he comes with their crappy-ass pink champagne and I'm guessing that's a scene he won't be able to scrub from his memory without lots of drugs and/or couch time. He slinks back out and again they start with the sexy talk and JJ tells Thereser that he's gonna go at her HARD and Thereser says she don't like it that way, but he says he's gonna go at her HARD and she says she don't like it HARD and...well that's beyond enough of THAT. But hey, I had to watch it so now I have to share it.

Back in the Wakile's room, Kathy and King Douchebag and Drunk Ass Rosie are doing a decent read of the Bravo scripted lines wherein they appear to be plotting how they're going to get everyone to stick around that night. As if ANYONE is fucking leaving that fucking castle. So, King Douchebag heads over to the Gorga room and "gets Melissa and JSTA to agree to staying the night". Yeah, right. So here we are...everyone safe in their little castle room for the rest of the night. As if there was EVER any doubt. Oh, and Thereser called Dirty C so she's driving on up to the Adirondyke Mount-ins to work her old-harpy-stating-the- obvious magic and saving the Gorga/Guidice Vortex of Dysfunction from themselves and each other. Lauren "Bad Mood" Manzo gets all Mafiosa when Dirty C tells her how Thereser has called to beg Dirty C to head up to Lake George. Bad Mood, with a straight face asks:

What if this is a plot to kill you?

For the record, that line, delivered with all the seriousness of a death threat, made me laugh out loud. It also proves my theory since Season One that all these guidos and guidettes are low level mob operatives. Dirty C don't care; she's making the four hour drive, or ride, as these morons are all carted around now in nameless black SUVs by nameless invisible drivers, up to the Castle to save the day in her own bossy style.

Next day everyone wakes up hungover but blessedly free of JSTA's black shoe polish hair goop and they stagger downstairs to an awwwwwkwaaaaard breakfast. But before too long here's the front door knocker and who should appear out of yet another gigantic black SUV, DOCTOR V! Out she steps in a black mini that barely manages to cover her ass, a fluffy vest that appears to be made of mink, black sheer stockings and black stilletto boots and a gigantic pair of very black sunglasses. Dr V appears to be another in a string of barely disguised hookers that float amongst the Bravo Real Housewives franchise. That or another character who is about to launch yet another Bravo franchise: Dr V: Therapist To The Rich and Tacky. Anyhoo, Thereser answers the door and after a big old hug, Dr. V tells her not to let the blonde hair fool her...she's all Italian..,just ask her ITALIAN VAJAYJAY! Thereser gives her another hug and how that she knows that Dr. V is a true, blue pisana, with a true blue Italian vagina, things are gonna be A-OK.

The therapy and much-touted "healing" is set to begin next week and we get a sneak peek at said "healing" with a troublesome focus on Thereser's ugly crying face. Because as anyone who's been watching this show can tell you, Thereser is a really, really, really ugly cryer. And Melissa is about to get served...a big, hot plate of brother/sister reconciliation which I'm guessing is going to go over like a dutch oven in bed with King Douchebag. Sorry, that's too gross even for The ABIB. Stay tuned.

Random Thoughts

OK, heres what I got from a 30 second commercial for the movie RED 2. Old people blowing shit up and Helen Mirren karate chopping younger men in the throat. Apparently RED stands for Retired Extremely Dangerous and there’s already been one hence the number two attached to this one. Yippee. Helicopters cartwheeling into the camera, old bald guys looking totally insane and Mary Louise Parker from Fried Green Tomatoes and Weeds, appears to be their...what? Handler? Adult diaper changer? Bruce Willis (age 58) is the youngster in the crew that includes John Malkovitch, Helen Mirren and Hannibal Lechter aka Sir Anthony Hopkins. What fucking demographic is this film aimed at exactly? Presumably someone like me, but I wouldn't watch it for free. I mean if I'm going to endure some mindless moronic explosion - car flipping bullshit I at least want to see some young eye candy. Certainly not old ass John Malkovitch in a ridiculous Bruno Mars fedora. Or Helen Mirren mincing around like we're supposed to buy into the premise that its OK because she looks awesome for an old broad. The operative word here is OLD. Because she's still fucking OLD. And what's Anthony Hopkins doing here? He's a "Sir" for Christ sake. Shouldn't he be sporting outrageously opulent costumery and quoting Shakespeare on a stage somewhere? Catherine Zeta Jones, looking like she raided the wig stash from Chicago, appears to be Bruce's sultry love interest. Nobody's going to fucking believe that; he's way too young for her demonstrated taste in men.

Loreal has officially run out of product names with the emergence of something called Miracle Blur. Honestly, Loreal...Miracle Blur? It doesn't even sound like a cosmetic. It sounds like some household cleaning agent: SENSATIONAL NEW MIRACLE BLUR WILL GET RID OF ANY TOUGH STAIN YOUR FAMILY CAN THINK OF! WITH OUR AMAZING NEW BLUR TECHNOLOGY STAINS APPEAR TO DISAPPEAR RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES! Cue to woman gazing with adoring wonder as MIRACLE BLUR in a convenient spray bottle causes her kids' muddy hand prints to disappear. So yeah, I'm thinking, does any woman, of any age, want her makeup to blur her face? And miraculously, no less. Wouldnt it be better if the product blurred the view of those LOOKING at your face? Back to the Loreal Name-O-Changer, guys.

Tina Fey is shilling hair dye. WTF? Tina, babe, your comedic/feminist/all round kick-ass broad cred is in serious jeopardy. Garnier Nutrisse. Again with the Loreal. You know who did this before you? Sarah Jessica Parker. Now from her we expect this kind of shallow, trifling money-grab-at-all-costs-to-my-image. Because, let's face it, HER image, built on Carrie Bradshaw, likely THE most insufferable, narcissistic, annoying bitch ever broadcast into peoples homes, was already fucked. But you, Tina? Liz Lemon? The everywoman heroine to every single lady who had to wear a bathing suit as underwear because she had no clean ones left? For Liz Lemon to resort to this kind of wholesale rejection of the natural aging process...a shanda! Now I'm not so stupid as to be unable to disentangle Tina Fey from Liz Lemon (even though by your own admission she was built largely on YOU), but this girly, hair dye-shilling person doesn't appear in your best selling book, either, and presumably that IS you. And surely its not for the money; you're financially set into the grandchildren generation. So what, Tina? Are you telling us that all of your second gen feminist grrrrl power crap is just that, crap? Well this disappointed fan has one thing to say to that: BLERG!

A new commercial for peanut butter Pop tarts is disturbing on multiple levels. First of all, food that is alive is ALWAYS fucked up and in this commercial a live Pop Tart is trapped in what appears to be quicksand, but there is some kind of makeshift sign posted next to the body of...whatever...labeled "Spa". So clearly the Pop Tart was lured to this sticky death trap through craven false pretense. It struggles mightily, its creepy anthropomorphic "face" twisted in terror. Suddenly a random breeze dislodges the "Spa" sign to reveal another sign beneath that reads: "Peanut Butter". The Tart realizes that it is actually trapped in a pool of peanut butter. Whew! The Tart eats its way out in three huge gulps, happy to be free and full of gooey, delicious peanut butter. Unfortunately just outside of the frame a freakish stick figure "human" is reclining on a pool-side chaise lounge tying a bib around its stick neck and eyeing the now peanut butter-filled Pop Tart hungrily. Oddly, the predator is less well defined artistically than its soon-to-be prey. When the Tart catches sight of the fork and knife wielding "human" his "face" collapses into utter despair as he realizes his life is about to end in slow, gory fashion. We also simultaneously realize that this monstrous human-ish thing is the one who has created the fake "Spa" to lure the unsuspecting Pop Tart to it's ultimate demise-through-being eaten. Reminds me of Shelob from The Lord of the Rings. Absolutely chilling. Human as ultimate predator of breakfast pastry with a particularly sadistic twist. So, let's see what we've learned here:

1. A formerly trapped and terrified item of living toaster pastry with a human face, has managed to cheat death by asphyxiation only to be confronted almost immediately by its imminent death by being eaten alive.

2. The salivating, "Spa" poolside stick figure "human" is about to eat the body of a living entity BECAUSE its digestive system is filled with peanut butter that has already begun to decompose as consumed food is wont to do.

There you have it! Who fucking writes this ghoulish shit, Stephen King? Nietzsche through a Ouija board? I mean maybe at 3:00 AM this is the kind of surreal weirdness that makes stoned college kids trek out to the nearest 7/11 in the hunt for a must-have peanut butter Pop Tart. But its airing in July. On a Saturday afternoon. Hell, the story alone in this macabre 15 seconds - that hope is fleeting and struggle leads ultimately to dire destruction - makes me wonder for our species because this dark message is, after all, selling something as innocent as a breakfast/snack food. What's next? Talking cows? Oh wait! They already did that in a series of talking Valley Girl cow commercials shilling dairy products. In one she's trash talking while in the shower wearing a pink shower cap. At least her human TV "family" doesnt ultimately carve her into steaks for the freezer. Also, not to be counted out: the commercial for Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal wherein the little cereal pieces actually EAT EACH OTHER WHILE FLOATING IN A BOWL OF MILK! Again, with faces...cereal with faces eating each other as proof to us of how irresistable they are. "Look gullible human food consumers! We are so desirable and tasty that even WE can't resist eating our fellow cereal comrades in the fight-to-the-death pool of milk that is your morning breakfast cereal!" I don't know about you, but I'm gonna think twice before I bite into another fucking Pop Tart.

Those Goofy-Ass Boy Scouts Just Keep Getting Shittier

So there was this in the news today: some 30,000 boy scouts and 7,000 adults have descended on southern West Virginia for the annual Boy Scouts Jamboree. A wild week of hiking, riding the rapids and zip lining out in wild, wonderful West Virginia with several thousand of your closest paramilitary buddies. Unless you don't make the cut-off for body mass index, or BMI. Yep; fatties need not apply. At least those deemed such by the Boy Scouts "rigorous guidelines". Yeah, you chubby scouts can sing Kumbaya around your own segregated fatty campfires. What a bunch of fucked up morons the BSA are. It wasn't enough to exclude gays from their little, all-manly-men-all-the-time knot-tying club, now they're getting into the shame business for those who don't fit their Hitler Youth physical specifications. Any parent who enrolls their kid in this horrible organization should be visited by child social services. Oh, and BSA? Have a Twinkie and chill the hell out. Better yet: Go fuck yourselves.

The Wrassle At The Castle: Part One

Frankly, folks, there's not much to report on this, the first EP up at the Healing/Meditation/Confrontation Junction Castle at Lake George in the Adirondyke Mount-ins. Here's what went down: first we visit Chez Gorga where Melissa and JSTA are packing for the confrontational/healing-da-family weekend. But first we watch as Melissa and JSTA urge their three children with the cry: "strippers in da house!". This is directly followed by Melissa demonstrating to her kids exactly how that's done and them following closely in Mommy's hip-swaying footsteps. OK, Melissa, now you're just fucking with us. It's actually kind of icky, especially the look on the little girl's face which is a cross between "I want to please Mommy and Daddy but this makes me feel bad inside". Yeah, honey; makes us feel bad to watch. So that's all that happens: packing and faux stripping. A typical day at Chez Gorga! Of course, we're also treated to the two adults pre-bashing Thereser and JJ, clearly voicing their expectations that nothing of any value is going to come of this weekend, basically because T's a sociopathic troublemaker unable to take responsibility for anything deemed trouble. Yeah, we kinda knew that, too. Soooo....

Over to the Guidice residence where packing is also underway and T's daughter Milania appears to be having some kind of spell. Gia is on the couch, all 12 years of her, trying to text and her younger sister is going all cray-cray and...I'm increasingly feeling sorry for Gia who is having to go through her adolescence and teen years in this over-exposed lunatic asylum. Hang in there, girl; college is only six years away if you're lucky. JJ gets home from wherever he's been (but it's made him "really tired") and Thereser starts in on the upcoming healing weekend with her typical Thereser bloviation about her "brotha" and how she wants to "be a family again" and OMG I CANNOT BE THE ONLY PERSON WATCHING THIS THAT HAS SAID ENOUGH WITH THE GORGA/GUIDICE FAMILY DRAMA!. I mean, Bravo's been hoofing this story for like three seasons now and it's offically worn out. Who really gives a flying fuck if Thereser and JSTA ever reconcile? I don't think THEY even care at this point. But Bravo keeps trotting out this plotline and sucker that I am, I keep tuning in. Anyway that's all that happened at the Guidices: packing and talking shit. Oh, and at Thereser's urging, JJ played "monster" with his kids. Christ you need a wake up alarm for this crap.

Next the Wakile's and....packing! Alrighty, then!

Blessedly neither Jacqueline nor Dirty C and their respective spouses are attending this weekend at the lake. But! It's in their contracts that they do have to get a minimum amount of screen time each week so we have to check in on them both. First to Dirty C and Al SR who are all bundled up and visiting some park in North Jersey that Al SR's Dad had something to do with. Frankly, in spite of Al SR's clunky exposition about what exactly that was, I still don't know. And that's OK, because I couldn't give a rat's ass. Anyway, there's some big footbridge high over a ravine and Big Al SR insists that Dirty C walk across it with him. She is in no way happy about this for some unknown reason: the bridge looks pretty sound. Maybe she has a thing about heights. Whatever. He prods and prods and finally she makes a dash for it across the bridge, screaming in mock fear (or maybe real fear, ABIB can only hope) and makes it to the other side. Big Al SR gives her shit about it but then they cuddle in the lightly falling snow and Big AL SR promises to try and ratchet down his work schedule so that they can, as Dirty C insists, "enjoy their retirement". Uh, sorry, Dirty C, but what the fuck did YOU retire from? Bossing your children and mercilessly meddling in the lives of your friends and extended family is NOT a career, so...(per my usual Dirty C rejoinder) STFU.

Finally the Wrasslers are on their way to the Castle; the Gorgas, Wakiles and Drunk Ass Rosie in a big party bus and the Guidices being driven by...some unseen person in a big, black SUV. In the voice over we hear Thereser happily chirp that she can't wait to get to the Catskills. Hmmmmm....no surprise here, but our Thereser is not exactly a geography buff; Lake George, as WE all know by now, is in the Adirondyke Mount-ins. Thereser and JJ get there first but are shortly joined by the bus crew. It's already tense as each party adjourns to their own room to begin drinking and bitching about everyone else. I'm watching this and the thought occured to me: Hey! Maybe don't supply alcohol to this already unstable gang of maniacs? They're up there to get their consciousness raised; is getting hammered really the best approach? Anyway, they join in the dining room for lunch and silence ensues until someone...Thereser? JSTA? Melissa? starts in with some kind of verbal jab and within moments they're at each others' throats with the sniping and the accusations. Oy, so tiresome. Finally the "team builders" arrive, a young couple who ostensibly do this professionally but I'm with Kathy when she queries in her talking head segment: "Are you kidding me? How are Opie and Little Miss Sunshine going to help this group?" I hear you, sister and I totes agree.

The group adjourns to a ballroom where Opie and Little Miss Sunshine have set up a rope on the floor arrayed in a big circle. King Douchebag immediately asks who is getting hanged today. Always the kidder that KD. Fucking fish-lipped moron. Turns out the rope circle is a physical set up for some kind of trust/bonding exercise utilizing the principles of the game Twister. The group engages but nothing really changes (BIG FUCKING SURPRISE) and then something or other comes up and the angry accusations begin in earnest. Opie tries gamely to take back what little control he had of these nutjobs but, hey: Opes: wrap it up, brother and get the fuck out of there, these people are about to get all crazy up in here. Surriously. Little Miss Sunshine can only stare mutely at the escalating craziness, a strange half-smile on her face. Little Miss Sunshine has clearly checked out.

At one point Melissa is on her knees in front of Thereser begging "the queen" to PUHLEEEEEZE stop hurting her family. Prediction: next season Melissa will be trying her hand at acting as her bored housewife activity. Anyway, she's begging and pleading for Thereser to stop hurting her family and Thereser just keeps on shouting her epithets, the same, old crap we've heard from her for...well...forever. But then she challenges her brotha to "stick with your blood" and JSTA tells her, "I'm not sticking with scum like you." Ouch. Thereser storms out (OF COURSE) and, in her storming pathway stand JJ and Drunk Ass Rosie getting drunk on some kind of brown liquid, my money's on scotch, DAR's poison of choice. Thereser screams as she approaches that her brotha just called her scum and that's all it takes for a tanked-on-scotch-and-steriods JJ to storm into the ballroom with the intention of getting JSTA "to apologize". Hooooo boy! No surprise, that little encounter doesn't go too well and we see the scene that was teased at the beginning of the season, basically JJ and JSTA pounding on each other with everyone trying (RIGHT) to separate them. The EP ends with Thereser running outside screaming "CALL THE POLICE!"

So next week I'm guessing someone will be going to Lake George jail when Sheriff Andy of Mayberry and Barney Fife show up. Oh and I actually forgot to tell you about the quick visit this week to the Laurita's. Hubby stopped by for lunch and Jacqueline told him how glad she was that they were'nt invited to the retreat, he demanded and she made him "some sausage", he ate it, she said "no quickie?", he said "no" and got the fuck out of there. Tune in next week, folks for round two of the Wrassle At The Castle!