The episode opens on Thereser's three clones and the kid dropped off on their doorstep (because there's no way it was made by T and Juicy Joe) making cards for T's Dad because he's gonna be getting a pacemaker inserted. T gives the girls a fairly gory blow-by-blow description of what's about to happen to their beloved grandfather, what with the carving a hole in his chest and sticking in a machine that keeps ticking in case his own heart stops ticking so that he doesn't...and Milania helpfully shouts out: DIE! So that he doesn't DIE! Her older sister glares dangerously and warns her to NEVER SAY THAT WORD AGAIN OR I WILL KILL YOU AND I'M NOT KIDDING! Kind of ironic, no? Plus, Milan...she's holding a pretty wicked looking safety scissors.
A few doors away, Melissa and Joey Still the Ape (from now on called just: JSTA) want to sell their 3.8 mil white elephant of a house, like right now. They have a Jewish realtor named Jerry Sahlman who doesn't seem all that sure about unloading their overpriced, not in the best neighborhood, without an in ground pool, McMansion. But Jerry, babe, it's got a custom sound studio right downstairs that JSTA installed himself for his wife who appears to have moved on from her obsessive career aspirations in the music industry. Easy come, easy go. When Jerry and his bummer vibe leave, Melissa tells us she's praying on it...all the time. Selling their house, that is. From your mouth to the big mans ear, Melissa. Good thing you got a Member of the Tribe (MOT) intermediary available to put in a good word with the Man upstairs. Goyim. Oy.
Back at the Manzo compound with Dirty C and Big Al, SR. and...um two giant German Shepards barking and growling behind a very large indoor wire enclosure. Kind of like a room sized doggy crate. If there was any doubt about Big Al being the real life Tony S, it be gone, bitches. Dirty C brings in some hot Starbucks and Bad Mood's already in bitch mode wantin' to know where the fuck's her coffee? Dirty C asks why she's such a bitch and its in cement: she hates Bad Mood like fo rill, and tells her to shut the hell up. One of Dirty C's 85 siblings is bunking with the Manzos and shes got a little rescue chihuahua with her named Frito. Because, she explains, he kind of smells like a Frito. OK....Dirty C tells us that she's cool with folks hanging at their place for awhile as long as she doesn't smell dog pee on the floor it's all good. Nice, low bar. She also tells us that, although she lives to meddle but it makes her brain hurt. Except she doesn't call it meddling, she calls it helping. Yeah you make everything better martyr. Dirty C also tells us that she and Big Al retreat to their Hoboken pied a terre whenever they need some alone time. Like when the Feds get a little closer on their latest RICO charges. Bada bing!
Kathy and King Douchebag are teaching their son to drive. That wacky Rich Wakile is in the back seat acting like an eight year old jackass which is about right. Kath's in the front seat attempting to be serious but that ain't gonna work at all. Her talking head tells us that King Douchebag is annoying as fuck and wants him to stop living vicariously through her son. Her son. Ouch. Sounds like Kath is starting to get her fill of Rich Wakile and his freakish face. Finally!
Jacqueline is doing a video blog for Parenting Magazine and...and...oh sorry I dozed off there. I do recall that it takes her to some big building on Park Avenue in NYC. Other than that, nada. Safe to say she was crying, though.
JSTA and Big Al's Consigliere Chris Laurita (he of the giant cabinet filled with firearms of every conceivable size and caliber) are having a friendly game of pool when this happens:
JSTA: How old are you now?
CL: I'm 46.
JSTA: 46...are you on Viagra?
JSTA: Is it still as hard as normal?
CL: Actually its gotten better.
JSTA: I'm gonna want it more than I want it now?
CL: You? You got a problem. You could be fuckin' the wall over there, you'd be happy.
Heyyyyy...wait a minute. Is this an Extenze commercial?
OK, first of all, which of these fucking macho meatheads would ever admit to needing Viagra? And JSTA? Just blow him and call it a day already, 'ya idiota. Chris tells us that even with all their shit him and Jacqueline make time to get it on. But he's not as obsessed as JSTA. Indeed who is, Consigliere, who is?
Back to Jacqueline on Park Avenue, which building front the Bravo producers have showen us twice now,still not impressed, BTW. Jac's at her video blog taping and she's blah blah blah about something. What? Sorry I dozed off again. Jacqueline is human Ambien and I am THIS CLOSE to just giving up on her altogether.
Back at LauritaVille Chris gives us the whole back story of their son and his problems, and JSTA finally, moved to tears, tells him "I wanna make out witchu." You heard it here, first, peeps. ABIB does a victory lap. High fives all around.
Back to T and her Dad's ongoing health issues. We are now located outside of some New Jersey hospital, presumably awaiting word on Big Daddy Gorga's pacemaker implant. And who is that I spy with my little eye? Well none other than Crack Hoe Kim D she of Posche fame and co-conspirator in last years big Melissa ambush and resulting Strippergate. You remember her: Crack Hoe Kim. Well while T and Kim Da Hoe are shootin' the shit outside the hospital T gets a text from Dirty C asking for some time to chat. Wow...say both gals. T says she hasn't heard from Dirty C in a year and a half and does she miss her? No. Instant replay of clip from last reunion with T addressing Dirty C's fat rolls: blubber blubber and blubber. So, so classy our simian-foreheaded Thereser. Crack Hoe Kim turns to leave and looks straight at the camera. Just busts through that fourth wall and looks directly at us. Might wanta call her Fame Whore Kim instead.
Back to Dirty C's place...the 11,000 square foot one. Bad Mood's getting Dirty C all painted up for her lunch with Thereser and the gals engage in some good old fashioned shit talking. Dirty C says she's taking one for team Joe The Wall Fucker, because, really, he did reach out to her for help and if she doesn't intervene, the entire Gorga/Guidice fambly gonna just implode and ain't no pacemaker in THE WORLD good enough to sustain that brother on sister hater shit. Bad Mood warns her that Thereser's kids have been raised by wolves so...Dirty C says its hard for JSTA to talk to Melissa or Kathy cause they're in it with him. Uh, Dirty C...and you're not? You've been so deep in their family's business for the past two years that pretty soon you're gonna have to adopt one of them.
Meanwhile, Thereser's telling Juicy Joe about her upcoming lunch but he's too busy peering through a magnifying glass at some unknown text that he refers to as "just paperwork". Hmmmm...whatever. Maybe he's reading the collected works of Bazooka Joe comics wrappers, they were pretty little. He warns Thereser that if Dirty C starts to lecture her about her brotha she should just leave because: "nobody knows everything. Not even the president." Uh, ok, strange turn of phrase there Juicy Joe. Hah! Thereser and Juicy both figure that Dirty C is calling to apologize. Of course WE know otherwise. This should be awesome.
But before we can get to that Thereser paints Juicy and us a picture: when women get their periods men don't want to drink any dark red liquid for fear of getting some of the blood and falling under the woman's spell. So, says Thereser, this is what happened to JSTA: Melissa had her period, JSTA went down on her and now he's under her spell. Eww, says Juicy. I can't believe I'm writing this but, yeah Juicy, you got that right. Stories from Transylvania by way of Sicilia! Thereser is still completely off her rocker. And I couldn't be more delighted!
We join Kathy and King Douchebag at their little princess' college where she's a commuter student studying to be a nurse practitioner. Kathy tells us that its good that Victoria is living at home cause Kathy hears all kinds of terrifying stories about the wild sexytimes at college and her little flower couldn't handle it. Victoria gives the 'rents a tour of the creepy fake hospital ward with the creepy fake patients and if this were a Twilight Zone episode the things would wake up and start shambling around like the plastic zombies that they are. And they'd still be more responsible than King Douchebag who is an infantile moron who has to touch everything and makes cracks about Victoria's fat college friends and their endless meal plan. Yeah, if it WERE the Twilight Zone he'd be the first to get the life choked out of him by one of those grinning plastic freaks. Yeah...too bad it fucking isn't.
Back to J and Chris and on and on about their kid's problems. I gotta say here and now: I'm tuning out of this storyline people. For the rest of this season. Tuning. Out. Just so you know.
The MOT realtor has finally gotten some suckers to bite on JSTA and Melissa's 3.8M white elephant and their two boys are rolling around on the couch beating the shit out of each other. Melissa thinks its good to have kids around when the house shows. Proof she says, that love lives here and they're so damn cute! Now I understand how mothers love their kids but those are two seriously homely children. Seriously homely. The older one has a forehead straight out of a David Cronenberg movie.
In comes another realtor (of the non-MOT variety, but apparently OF the hooker variety). She's lugging along a client that has some shit or other to do with P Diddy. Um is he even a thing anymore? I love how this show tries to name check with like F listers. Last year it was Billy Joel's daughter, now P Diddy. Whos next, Eric Estrada? Well, anyway they head on upstairs and bitch ain't feeling the keyhole windows in the master bedroom and then in the bathroom the fixtures are falling off and the sink is chipping away to reveal...its not even real marble but some kind of veneer? Oh, hell no. Downstairs JSTA is bragging that he's Joey Michaelangelo since he built the joint. Well he general contracted anyway. Realtor breaks it down for them: no way you're getting that money for this house in this 'hood. And with no pool? Psssht. Clocks ticking on Melissa's great escape from Thereser-ville, but fuck if they're gonna sell at a loss. Me thinks they gonna remain close by neighbors with she-who-cant-be-named. At least for the rest of the season.
Finally! The bitch beat down we've been waiting for through all this other trifling mess: the Thereser and Dirty C lunch-off! Things start off excellently when Dirty C tells Thereser that she's here for JSTA and T rolls her eyes and says: well now he's scraping the bottom of the barrel. Dirty C says thanks and laces her fingers together presumably to keep from lacing them around Thereser's nipped and tucked throat. So right away Dirty C starts with the yelling and the outraged bugeyes and the wagging finger of holier-than-thou doom. Threser's having none of it; apologies all around from everyone to her and that's it. End of conversation. Dirty C digs in: its a sin! You have one brotha! I know everything! Obey me! Thereser shakes her head full of extensions and says NO. Dirty C knows she's beat but would never in a millennia cop to it, so she tells us, in that fucking smarmy, superior way, that now when she looks in Threser's eyes all the old sparkle and life are gone...so sad. You holier than thou old biddy...get the fuck over yourself. Score by my count: Thereser: 1 Dirty C a big, fat goose egg.
Back to stately Laurita Manor where the gangs all there for poker night. Well, the ladies are upstairs bitching and talking shit and DA MENS are downstairs playing poker. Oh, and Rosie...crickets...
Anyhoo...its just a card game until they start in on weepy Jac and - I warned you people - I'm going straight to FF on the remote. When next we pick up its back to the battle royal at the private room in the Ho-Ho-Hokus Inn. Not kidding; that's the name of the joint where spidery Dirty C has lured her prey Thereser to pontificate her into obedience. Oh, but before we leave LauritaVille the boys are pumping Rosie for all the salacious deets on the girl-on-girl action. For example Little Al wants to know: do you use a strap-on? Really Andy Cohen? For real? Rosie blusters that any bitch coming at her with a strap-on or that wants her ta strap-on can go fuck herself. Uh, yeah, Rosie-Osie that's the general mechanical idea. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Rosie's already got a bigger fucking dick than YOU, Little Al, Christopher with the IQ of a newt, and certainly the 'roid shrunk wonder boy himself, JSTA. Moronic knuckleheads.
The episode concludes back at the Ho-Ho-Kus Inn where Thereser just has finally, fucking given up and said whatever Dirty C wants to hear just to get the bitch to shut the fuck UP! You want me to talk to my brother? Yeah, yeah, I'll talk to my brother. But you better give that slut he's married to fair warning: I WANT AN APOLOGY FROM HER! As if that's ever going to happen. But Dirty C agrees that, yes, all of Thereser's demands will be met, just so long as I can say I WIN! I SAVED THE WORLD FROM THE GORGA/GUIDICE APOCALYPSE. Or some such shit. We close out with a shot of Dirty C, now alone in the private Ho-Ho-Kus dining room, slumped at her table in righteous exhaustion intoning that "she needs a drink." YOU? Bitch, please.