You could almost hear the director:
"OK, Jacqueline, Kathy, I almost felt it this time. Again...remember you're shocked...scared...sad...Let's go, folks: the jail sentence reveal: Take 30!"
Yeah, it was like that in this season's RHONJ finale. All throughout this entire lackluster season of The RHONJ the running back story has been the Guidice Fraud-A-Palooza and will they/won't they go to jail, get deported, break a nail. Whatever. So here we are at the last episode and, even though the season was filmed several months ago, Bravo had to find a way to shoehorn in the actual legal outcome of T and JJ's future since it was announced in real time earlier this month. So what did they do? They filmed several "reaction" shots spanning three of the housewive's, well, houses. We caught up with Amber and Jim, the Asshole From Outer Space, who, due his extraterrestrial space pack, apparently has some kind of smartphone that gives him blow-by-blow details directly from inside the courtroom. He tells us just as JJ admits to a "problem with alcohol", he reads us verbatim JJ's address to the judge, followed sometime after by T's address. I'm watching this wondering what kind of phone this fucker has that he can give a blow by blow of what's going on downtown AS IT'S HAPPENING! Amber is, of course, adequately SHOCKED! GASPING FOR BREATH! COVERING HER FACE IN HORROR! CONTEMPLATING NEXT SEASON NOW THAT THERE'S A PERMANENT HOLE IN THE CAST!
But nobody can beat Jacqueline in the "I'm Alive So I'm Going To Find Something To Cry About" sweepstakes. We join Kathy, her idiot husband and Rosie the Riveter at Kathy's house also apparently tuned by phone into some special cousins-only broadcast channel, 'cause the idiot husband, just like the Asshole From Outer Space, is filling the two ladies in with minute-by-minute updates. Soon Kathy receives a text from Jacquelinw, worried as usual, and is told to get her and her husband's asses over there. Sure enough, one commercial break later and now Kathy's little kitchen is crammed with her three loons and Jacqueline, her gun-nut husband Chris Laurita, and their special brand of loony-ness. Well, truth be told it's only Jacqueline that is loony, but she's loony enough for both of them.
Astonishingly the minute she arrives Jacqueline immediately focuses the drama on herself. With lip-quivering fake acting 101, Jacqueline, face down in her phone begins to wonder aloud what this whole thing will mean to her "friendship" with T. How can she cope with everything that's going on? WHAT ABOUT HER FEELINGS!? SHE HAS A CHILD ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM!! Can Chris the gun nut at least pistol whip some sense into this whiny, monumentally annoying ninny that he married? Also interspersed throughout this finale was stock footage, accompanied by appropriately police-y sound effects, of T and JJ walking the press gauntlet into and out of the court. But seriously, Bravo? We can see that it's ALWAYS the same 15 seconds of footage...you aren't fooling us just because you throw in some WOOOOOOOO sounds effects of a police car siren. Also? The cutaway shot of the helicopter circling overhead? It's T and JJ; not OJ, relax.
Also featured in this finale was the culmination of all of Dina's season-long planning for her "Ladybug" charity event. Hosted at a friend's "house" that appears to have at least four wings and a central spiral staircase that makes Scarlett O'Hara's Tarah look like a rickety back entrance, also...an elevator. The plus side is that this "house" has three wonderfully huge and adorable Great Danes and one very adorable, stocky as hell bulldog. Having dogs just kinda warms me up to a person from the get-go. What can I say? The ABIB is a sucker for a wet nose and wagging tail. The charity event is mere days away and Dina is putting the final touches on the childrens' fashion show while simultaneously putting the fear of god into both the twins, Nicole and TerESSa, and T, to lay off the family-hater drama still simmering from I Fucked My Mother In Law Gate. The twins are still "incensed" (Rino's been sharing his Word of the Day calendar) that T would pass along such a vulgar rumor once it was heard from Victoria Gotti. T, as is her wont, admits zero wrong doing and in fact insists that, by sharing the rumor with Dina in advance of the Boca Bash, she was PROTECTING the twins since if things got out of hand Dina would be able to quash the troubles. Of course, we know it didn't turn out that way, thanks to big mouth Amber and her Asshole From Outer Space husband. Dina ominously tells us that if anything cray cray gets started at her Ladybug event, the person who starts the bitch fest will lose a friend; namely her. Tread lightly, ladies; my girl Dina is subject to work a root on your assess if you cross her.
Needless to say the drama launches shortly after the Ladybug event begins, but not before we get to see T and Melissa's two little hookers in training strut their stuff down the "catwalk". So cute, two little seven year olds learning early just how important stuff on the outside actually is. These two future little golddiggers can't start learning soon enough. Melissa's kid especially doen't have a prayer as we see her mother, earlier in the episode, drooling over Joey The Ape as he pretends to drive an earth mover, shouting at him above the rumble of the engine to "dig our house! build our house! You're such a MAN!" She tells us that she's just plain helpless in the face of a man in an earth moving machine and that there are none sexier than her very own Joe Gorga. Can I just say here, in case I've not yet made it clear, that I flat out despise Melissa Gorga? She is everything that is wrong with the world in one overly pampered, surgically altered, idiotic package. I mean I just plain hate on her. Melissa the Gorgon is THE WORST.
Back to Great Dane Manor and Dina's charity event is well underway but the twins and T are in the process of "reaching closure and moving forward" from their earlier "I hate her unto death" standoff. Things between them reach a predictable Bravo-scripted resolution (it is the season finale, after all) but not before we get a talking head confessional from TerESSa telling us that all the shit that's going down with T has been brought about by the ill treatment afforded TerESSa's family by T and her part in the Victoria Gotti rumor from MIL hell. I believe the actual quote from TeRESSa is "Karma's a bitch, what can I say?" Oh, kids, she's gonna pay for that somewhere on the upcoming three part RHONJ Reunion. On a side note, can i just say that, it may be the Botox injections, but the twins' mother, Santa, herself the target of the I Fucked My Mother In Law rumor never seems even remotely phased by it whenever the topic comes up. Further proof that Bravo is really grasping for storylines here.
Another little concluding arc that we learn in about 30 seconds is that Dina's daughter, Lexi, she of the NYU reject pile, has been accepted to "a great school in the city". Considering it's unnamed and that these women positivelly live for status statements, we have to believe that the "great school in the city" is actually Wayne Community College. Yeah, not expecting any brainiacs to come out of any of these ladies.
So we end where we began this recap, with the Bravo director, offscreen coaching the fuck out of Jacqueline and Kathy to wring out a few crocodile tears on behalf of the dreadful sentencing verdict that they JUST HEARD on their own, private Guidette Bat Channel. The last shot is of them in each others' arms, dissolved in "tears" as someone, I SWEAR I HEARD IT, supresses a chuckle just offscreen. My money's on that bozo Richie Wakile, but serioulsy, facing that Waiting for Guffman display who the fuck can blame him?
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Shit That Annoys The ABIB, Part Two
Fuckers Who Walk and Text
Here he comes! Outta the way! He will crash face first into you before he relinquishes eye contact with his phone. Hey, moron: are you issuing landing instructions for the Space Shuttle? Are you describing the steps in real time for open heart surgery? Are you in the process of securing the launch codes for the Red Phone? No? Then LOOK AWAY FROM YOUR PHONE WHILE YOU’RE WALKING, NIMROD! The ABIB kicks off this episode of Shit that Annoys The ABIB with “Fuckers Who Walk and Text”. You’ve seen them; they’re everywhere. Walking down the street, exiting an elevator, grocery shopping, ordering coffee and never, ever for one motherfucking second do they look up from the critically important movie times, message about who’s going to the movies or checking out their Twitter feed. It’s an epidemic of electronic navel-gazing jackassery that is, frankly, taking over our planet. Don’t you want to grab that fucking phone out of their hands and toss it under an oncoming bus? The ABIB does. In fact, The ABIB has fantasies of crashing into one of them head first and making enough of an impact that their fucking phone goes flying, preferably into a body of water or under an 18-wheeler. That would be outstanding, right? The look of shock followed immediately by utter dismay as they watch their precious phone get sucked under some destructive force, vaporizing for all time that essential message thread about Mary’s shoes or Alan’s latest sushi place discovery. The best part would be The ABIB’s own sorry-not-sorry frowny face: Whoops! My goodness, guess I wasn’t looking where I was going, was I? Dipshit.
Motorcycle Engine Revving
Three words on this one: Cocktail Weenie Dick.
One Word Facebook Status Updates
Ugh.
FML!
I’m done!
Grrrrr!
Yeah, I could go on…but you get the picture. These are relegated largely to young women for whom there is no amount of attention that is enough. So rather than be grownups and actually reach out for support or input or a willing ear (likely dwindling), they resort to these manipulative one word utterances aimed at comments like: What’s wrong? Are you OK? Having a bad day? These well-meaning but hapless suckers get drawn into the 25-year-old-middle-school-drama-queen’s angst, willingly submitting to her need for both attention and control. Her one or two word missives ensure that she remains in control why? Well, because people need to ASK HER for further information so that they can formulate appropriately sympathetic responses. Even more aggravating is that many times these fragile little witches get a ton of “likes” which means that lots and lots of people are actually paying attention, always a bad idea: don't encourage them, you cretins. Yes, those likes seem to say: tell us more you mysterious, tragic figure! We’re waiting with baited breath to hear the next chapter of your monosyllabic sound bites. Me? I’m The ABIB so I’m generally concocting succinct responses to these annoyingly whiny fuckers. Fearful of wrongful prosecution I never actually USE any of them…but they sure are fun to think about.
Ugh.
The ABIB: Mouthful of bad spooge?
FML!
The ABIB: Jump!
I’m done!
The ABIB: About time!
Grrrrrr!
The ABIB: STFU
The Facebook Humble Brag
A close cousin to these annoying one-word FB status updates is the ever-enraging humblebrag, itself a FB status update staple of idiots everywhere. I’ve seen them a million times (at least it seems that way) and each and every time I want to reach through the computer screen and bitch slap the self-aggrandizing asshat. Also, these fuckers are chronic overusers of the ever-annoying emoji. Here’s a sample:
Oh my gosh! I am so exhausted! Between the awards banquet last night and the show rehearsal all afternoon I’m beat. Off for a nap, I’ve got dinner with the husband tonight! Not enough hours in the day! (sigh)(sleepyface)(bug-eyed surprised face)(three different hearts)
What’s up with my director? How am I supposed to learn ALL THESE LINES by tomorrow night? Sleep? What’s that?(angry face)(shoulder shrug)(sleepy face)(winky face)
I am SO busy at work that I do NOT have time to breathe! I mean, are there NO other people that can do all of these jobs? Looks like no…. (frowny face)(sigh)
(fuck face...The ABIB wishes)
You get the idea. These are people who want you to know how delightfully beleaguered they are, stressed by all of this tiresome opportunity and exposure! The ABIB actually has a single response to every humble bragger on FB no matter what they are humble bragging about: Hey motherfucker: drop dead! I know, I know The ABIB says out loud what everyone else only thinks. You’re welcome.
Here he comes! Outta the way! He will crash face first into you before he relinquishes eye contact with his phone. Hey, moron: are you issuing landing instructions for the Space Shuttle? Are you describing the steps in real time for open heart surgery? Are you in the process of securing the launch codes for the Red Phone? No? Then LOOK AWAY FROM YOUR PHONE WHILE YOU’RE WALKING, NIMROD! The ABIB kicks off this episode of Shit that Annoys The ABIB with “Fuckers Who Walk and Text”. You’ve seen them; they’re everywhere. Walking down the street, exiting an elevator, grocery shopping, ordering coffee and never, ever for one motherfucking second do they look up from the critically important movie times, message about who’s going to the movies or checking out their Twitter feed. It’s an epidemic of electronic navel-gazing jackassery that is, frankly, taking over our planet. Don’t you want to grab that fucking phone out of their hands and toss it under an oncoming bus? The ABIB does. In fact, The ABIB has fantasies of crashing into one of them head first and making enough of an impact that their fucking phone goes flying, preferably into a body of water or under an 18-wheeler. That would be outstanding, right? The look of shock followed immediately by utter dismay as they watch their precious phone get sucked under some destructive force, vaporizing for all time that essential message thread about Mary’s shoes or Alan’s latest sushi place discovery. The best part would be The ABIB’s own sorry-not-sorry frowny face: Whoops! My goodness, guess I wasn’t looking where I was going, was I? Dipshit.
Motorcycle Engine Revving
Three words on this one: Cocktail Weenie Dick.
One Word Facebook Status Updates
Ugh.
FML!
I’m done!
Grrrrr!
Yeah, I could go on…but you get the picture. These are relegated largely to young women for whom there is no amount of attention that is enough. So rather than be grownups and actually reach out for support or input or a willing ear (likely dwindling), they resort to these manipulative one word utterances aimed at comments like: What’s wrong? Are you OK? Having a bad day? These well-meaning but hapless suckers get drawn into the 25-year-old-middle-school-drama-queen’s angst, willingly submitting to her need for both attention and control. Her one or two word missives ensure that she remains in control why? Well, because people need to ASK HER for further information so that they can formulate appropriately sympathetic responses. Even more aggravating is that many times these fragile little witches get a ton of “likes” which means that lots and lots of people are actually paying attention, always a bad idea: don't encourage them, you cretins. Yes, those likes seem to say: tell us more you mysterious, tragic figure! We’re waiting with baited breath to hear the next chapter of your monosyllabic sound bites. Me? I’m The ABIB so I’m generally concocting succinct responses to these annoyingly whiny fuckers. Fearful of wrongful prosecution I never actually USE any of them…but they sure are fun to think about.
Ugh.
The ABIB: Mouthful of bad spooge?
FML!
The ABIB: Jump!
I’m done!
The ABIB: About time!
Grrrrrr!
The ABIB: STFU
The Facebook Humble Brag
A close cousin to these annoying one-word FB status updates is the ever-enraging humblebrag, itself a FB status update staple of idiots everywhere. I’ve seen them a million times (at least it seems that way) and each and every time I want to reach through the computer screen and bitch slap the self-aggrandizing asshat. Also, these fuckers are chronic overusers of the ever-annoying emoji. Here’s a sample:
Oh my gosh! I am so exhausted! Between the awards banquet last night and the show rehearsal all afternoon I’m beat. Off for a nap, I’ve got dinner with the husband tonight! Not enough hours in the day! (sigh)(sleepyface)(bug-eyed surprised face)(three different hearts)
What’s up with my director? How am I supposed to learn ALL THESE LINES by tomorrow night? Sleep? What’s that?(angry face)(shoulder shrug)(sleepy face)(winky face)
I am SO busy at work that I do NOT have time to breathe! I mean, are there NO other people that can do all of these jobs? Looks like no…. (frowny face)(sigh)
(fuck face...The ABIB wishes)
You get the idea. These are people who want you to know how delightfully beleaguered they are, stressed by all of this tiresome opportunity and exposure! The ABIB actually has a single response to every humble bragger on FB no matter what they are humble bragging about: Hey motherfucker: drop dead! I know, I know The ABIB says out loud what everyone else only thinks. You’re welcome.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Shit That Annoys The ABIB, Part One
Following is the first installment in a new feature here called: Shit That Annoys The ABIB. I know, I know…doesn’t EVERYTHING annoy The ABIB is what you’re thinking. Well, truth be told, pretty much everything DOES annoy The ABIB but I’ll try to confine these to things that really, really annoy The ABIB. So, let’s begin, shall we?
“Greetings”
Top of this list is the monumentally annoying response that some people choose to offer when they hear the word: “Hello” or “Hi”. As in:
“Hello, Brad”
“Greetings”
Greetings? Really? Why not just add the word “earthling” to the end of that expression because you’ve clearly ID’d yourself as being a complete geek from another planet. People that do this generally think of themselves as quirky, offbeat or original, that is to say, somehow different from the rest of us. So different, in fact, that they become Mr. Spock when simply saying hello. Guess what, weirdo? You wipe your ass just like everyone else; get over yourself.
Backing In To Parking Spaces
This one is so annoying to The ABIB that she actually covered it in an entire post a few years ago. Right Here. Basically when people choose to back into a parking space what I hear them thinking is one of two things:
I am entitled to hold everyone behind me up while I perform the 80 point turn necessary to back into this space because their time is of zero value in the face of me needing to prove my driving prowess by doing backwards what everyone else does the regular way. Or,
I know I’m just being paranoid but you never know when you’re going to have to jet out of a parking space with no delay. The Popo comes immediately to mind.
The ABIB just watched some idiot back into a parking space today and, true to habit, this moron took about eight full minutes to park her car because she had to back in and out and in and out and in and out about 30 times. A dream of mine is to actually see one of these pinheads scrape one of the cars on either side of their masterful back-in job so that I can report their asses. A bitch can dream.
Quizzes on Facebook
What Color is Your Aura?
How Alike Are You and Your Mother?
What Is Your Spirit Animal?
What is Your Redneck Name?
The list goes on forever. I really don’t know who began these moronic activities, but just like every other mindless meme in social media, they’ve taken hold and won’t let go. Now, The ABIB admits to having taken one or two of these but she realized quickly that, heck, how can someone tell me what Disney character I’m most like? Oh, I see how: one of the questions is: What Makes You Happiest? A. Hanging out With an Old, Talking Tree? B. Living in an Inaccessible Tower and Growing Your Hair Out For 15 Years? C. Sharing a Deep Woods Cottage With Seven Tiny Men? D. Finding a Book to Read in a Dark, Drafty, Remote Castle Owned by an Angry, Large Creature? So, I became disillusioned with the whole Facebook Quiz phenomenon which happened right around the time that I was told that my aura is Pink which is ridiculous; someone as angry as The ABIB must have at least a deep magenta aura, even a royal, holier-than-thou purple would work, but PINK? I was done. So I gave up on the quiz culture altogether and have taken up the cudgels for their full and complete elimination. Right after I read The 15 Reasons Why Pizza Is Everything. Which brings me to…
Lists
Lists are another social media meme that hook you in with gateway lists like: well, The 15 Reasons Why Pizza is Everything, but before you know it the clock says 2:30 in the morning and you’re reading 51 Times Lorde Was Your Life Coach. And it’s making sense. I’m convinced that the whole fascination with Lists, so easy and breezy (who can’t read a list for fuck’s sake?) is geared toward getting us to become numb to moronic, vapid content so that when we’re nice and sated, stuck with an open laptop and an old box of bad Chinese food several hours into a random linking path on Buzzfeed, we realize we ARE actually Pochahontas and have been waiting our whole lives for the ultimate quiz/list hybrid which we can now and only now write: 85 Photos of Corgis Rolling on the Grass and Jumping Into The Pool While You Eat 30 Delicious Totally Vegetarian Roll-Ups Because Your Bad Hair Days Are Killing Your Health And Have Left You Asking: Which Dyson Cleaning Tool Will Answer The Eternal Question of the Meaning of Life. And then you book a trip to Disney World because Grandmother Willow is way behind on gossip. Greetings, earthling; we are now inside your head.
“Greetings”
Top of this list is the monumentally annoying response that some people choose to offer when they hear the word: “Hello” or “Hi”. As in:
“Hello, Brad”
“Greetings”
Greetings? Really? Why not just add the word “earthling” to the end of that expression because you’ve clearly ID’d yourself as being a complete geek from another planet. People that do this generally think of themselves as quirky, offbeat or original, that is to say, somehow different from the rest of us. So different, in fact, that they become Mr. Spock when simply saying hello. Guess what, weirdo? You wipe your ass just like everyone else; get over yourself.
Backing In To Parking Spaces
This one is so annoying to The ABIB that she actually covered it in an entire post a few years ago. Right Here. Basically when people choose to back into a parking space what I hear them thinking is one of two things:
I am entitled to hold everyone behind me up while I perform the 80 point turn necessary to back into this space because their time is of zero value in the face of me needing to prove my driving prowess by doing backwards what everyone else does the regular way. Or,
I know I’m just being paranoid but you never know when you’re going to have to jet out of a parking space with no delay. The Popo comes immediately to mind.
The ABIB just watched some idiot back into a parking space today and, true to habit, this moron took about eight full minutes to park her car because she had to back in and out and in and out and in and out about 30 times. A dream of mine is to actually see one of these pinheads scrape one of the cars on either side of their masterful back-in job so that I can report their asses. A bitch can dream.
Quizzes on Facebook
What Color is Your Aura?
How Alike Are You and Your Mother?
What Is Your Spirit Animal?
What is Your Redneck Name?
The list goes on forever. I really don’t know who began these moronic activities, but just like every other mindless meme in social media, they’ve taken hold and won’t let go. Now, The ABIB admits to having taken one or two of these but she realized quickly that, heck, how can someone tell me what Disney character I’m most like? Oh, I see how: one of the questions is: What Makes You Happiest? A. Hanging out With an Old, Talking Tree? B. Living in an Inaccessible Tower and Growing Your Hair Out For 15 Years? C. Sharing a Deep Woods Cottage With Seven Tiny Men? D. Finding a Book to Read in a Dark, Drafty, Remote Castle Owned by an Angry, Large Creature? So, I became disillusioned with the whole Facebook Quiz phenomenon which happened right around the time that I was told that my aura is Pink which is ridiculous; someone as angry as The ABIB must have at least a deep magenta aura, even a royal, holier-than-thou purple would work, but PINK? I was done. So I gave up on the quiz culture altogether and have taken up the cudgels for their full and complete elimination. Right after I read The 15 Reasons Why Pizza Is Everything. Which brings me to…
Lists
Lists are another social media meme that hook you in with gateway lists like: well, The 15 Reasons Why Pizza is Everything, but before you know it the clock says 2:30 in the morning and you’re reading 51 Times Lorde Was Your Life Coach. And it’s making sense. I’m convinced that the whole fascination with Lists, so easy and breezy (who can’t read a list for fuck’s sake?) is geared toward getting us to become numb to moronic, vapid content so that when we’re nice and sated, stuck with an open laptop and an old box of bad Chinese food several hours into a random linking path on Buzzfeed, we realize we ARE actually Pochahontas and have been waiting our whole lives for the ultimate quiz/list hybrid which we can now and only now write: 85 Photos of Corgis Rolling on the Grass and Jumping Into The Pool While You Eat 30 Delicious Totally Vegetarian Roll-Ups Because Your Bad Hair Days Are Killing Your Health And Have Left You Asking: Which Dyson Cleaning Tool Will Answer The Eternal Question of the Meaning of Life. And then you book a trip to Disney World because Grandmother Willow is way behind on gossip. Greetings, earthling; we are now inside your head.
RHONJ Recap: Bobby Emerges From the Bathroom Long Enough to Give Joey The Ape Mouth-to-Mouth...AKA He Kissed A Boy And He Liked It!
Well, the promised big reveal happened FINALLY on this week’s ep and frankly speaking it was completely blah. Jimmy The Asshole From Outer Space did the honors, loudly stating to an already tearful Nicole…or wait, was it TeRESSa? Anyway, Jimmy came out with it: HE FUCKED YOUR MOTHER! And actually, I was waiting for the Boca house to implode, or at least for JTA to commence a righteous beatdown of Jimmy for daring to invoke a mother…ANYONE’S mother in such a vile manner. But none of that happened. He loudly shared the dastardly rumor and everyone scattered. Melissa made a lame-ass grab for screen time with her fake outrage face. See, Meliss? That’s what too much Botox’ll do to you, dumbass; your face showed nothing, nada, zippo babe. Amber was SO upset with her Asshole From Outer Space that she went outside and HAD A CIGARETTE!! As if to increase the severity of what this meant Amber kept reminding everyone, and us, as she puffed away, that SHE IS A CANCER SURVIVOR! Oy, do these two noodnicks deserve each other or what? Anyway, she’s outside, she’s crying and smoking and crying and smoking and Dina, bless her heart, leans in and tells Amber how sorry she is that Amber is married to a dick. Attagirl, Dina; way to say what everyone is thinking. I think that it’s of critical importance here to stop and remind my readers that by this point in the evening EVERYONE was completely shitfaced and for some people that’s not a very good thing. Jimmy the Asshole From Outer Space? Not so much a nice drunk. Jimmy is kind of a mean drunk. But once they’re alone in their Boca bedroom he repeatedly tells Amber, and us in his talking head confessional, that he did it all for Amber. Uh, what? Yeah, that was our resident Alien’s rationale: these bitches had treated his girl so badly (cue the flashback on camera to the unfortunate hair-pulling incident involving Nicole and a hank of Amber’s hair left in a tangled heap on Bobby’s granite countertop), SO badly, that they deserved to be punished and if nothing else Jimmy is the one to mete that out. Hence his outta-the-gate-hate all evening.
Amber, finally appearing to have a semblance of awareness, is all like: WHAT? HUH? THAT MAKES NO SENSE! WHY? Jimmy the Asshole from Outer Space gets all kinda creepy quiet, lowering his voice and inching closer to Amber on the bed, offering to rub her feet. At that point Amber is struggling to keep from cracking up and it becomes clear that this is a totally scripted scene and I’m done. So the question I pose to Bravo is this: is Jimmy the Asshole From Outer Space as bad as all that or did you hand pick him (with an accompanying bump in salary) to serve as this season’s resident weirdo/motherfucker ala Teresa way back when, and/or Danielle? If so, he’s doing a decent job, although that last scene kinda blew his cover for me. So…
Back to the others and Nicole is packing her bags to leave THAT NIGHT! She cannot stay in this crazy house another minute so will be driving up to hang with potential real life motherfucker, and her husband, Rino five minutes away at “their home down here”. So, all this time Rino’s been five minutes away? Huh. Nicole tearfully begs her to reconsider in the morning, but, well, you know how it is with drunks: they gonna do what they gonna do especially if they’re already prone to be full blown drama queens. Which, actually, every single person in this house from Floridian hell is. So off she goes, taking the big black limo back to Rino when, truth be told, bitch probably could have walked. And frankly, tromping off on foot into the darkness, trailing her giant rolling suitcase behind her would have been way cooler. But that’s just me.
At some point in this melee we’re taken back to Jersey to connect with Jacqueline and Kathy who are having lunch at Jacqueline’s soon-to-be-sold McMansion in Franklin Lakes. Stilted, scripted conversation ensues over bites of, what else, salad, although at one point Kathy, probably thinking she wasn’t going to be on camera for a hot second, put a forkful of greenery into her mouth that would have choked an ox. The look on her face when she realized she WAS being recorded was so awful and in spite of that she managed to get all that stuff in and close her lips around it without even mussing her lipstick. What a trooper! Poor Kathy; I really do like her even though her taste in men is troubling to say the least.
Awkward plot-advancing dialogue follows wherein Kathy reminds Jacqueline for the 18 millionth time how wonderfully she’s been with Nick her autistic son which, again, call me the worst, but I’m SO FUCKING OVER the Nick storyline. Bravo at its clunkiest is when it tries to take an advocacy role to prove that all this exploitation is for the greater good. What with the scenes of Jacqueline’s kid and the cancer storyline over at Chez Amber. It just comes off as what it is: a network whose bread and butter is broadcasting one freak show after another trying to get us to believe that IT CARES. Just makes me want to say: shut up and bring on the dysfunction. If I wanted gratuitous pandering I’d watch the Jerry Lewis Telethon..
Kathy’s lines give Jacqueline the chance to openly shill her upcoming appearances (with her husband) aimed at raising awareness amongst other couples of disabled children, of how much more challenging marriage under those circumstances can be and how to cope. Yeah, thanks Einstein; what advice are you going to give them? Here’s how to unburden your life and improve your marriage in spite of having the extra stress of a disabled child: be rich. Done and done. Jacqueline is such a putz. Jacqueline, of course, because it wouldn’t be an episode of RHONJ if she didn’t, cries on camera when she talks about her kid or was it when she was talking about missing out on being able to hover over T during these dark, lawsuit times in which she and JJ are embroiled. Truth be told she probably cried for both, sophomoric bitch. Oh, and in a flash to her date night with Chris “I Have An Armada’s Worth of Artillery In My Family Room” Laurita we get to hear him utter some of the most stilted scripted dialogue in…EVER. He tells us about their past and how they met and….I got up to get a glass of OJ, so there you go. Bottom line: since they’re poor now they, like T and JJ, are “downsizing” and it’s going to be sad to move out of their giant home and into a smaller one. Chris has all the feels. As if.
T and JJ are also out on a date night across the bridge in NYC having dinner and spending the night in a big, fancy hotel. T looks kinda worried the whole time, quietly expressing her concern that the whole set-up looks kind of “expensive”. At least one of them is thinking about the, oh, I don’t know, THE APPEARANCE on their part of some frugality, considering their current legal sitch. Which BTW, let’s just stop right here and acknowledge the news this week that both of them will be doing jail time. Kind of shocking that the judge is locking T up, but she is. So, I’m guessing that Andy Cohen is intermittently dancing a jig and looking appropriately somber as he considers the possibilities of exploiting IN REAL LIFE the whole Orange is the New Black vibe that is currently at the top of the A List. You bet he’s got folks working already with the New York State Office of Corrections to set up at least some film time for the next season of RHONJ on the inside with T. Last night was a special Watch What Happens Live with T and JJ that I’ll be blogging about just as soon as I can watch it. But at dinner across the river, JJ offers T a nice toast about being the luckiest guy in the world because he's married to her. Awwww...then he ruins it by announcing that the food here is so good he's getting a boner. Even without the oysters. You got a hotel room for the night, JJ, calm the fuck down; don't wanna peak too early if you know what I mean...wink, wink, nod, nod, say no more, say no more. Thanks, Monty Python.
Back to Boca. Next morning Jimmy the Asshole Alien is up bright and early making scrambled eggs for everyone who are like…uh….OK…didn’t we have a major kerfluffle up in here last night of which YOU, Mr. Eggs, were the chief perp? Melissa who as you all know by now I hate with a white hot intensity, comes shuffling into the kitchen wearing her giant dark glasses even though she’s indoors. Yeah, everyone was shit-fucking-faced last night and now they are all soooo hungooooover. Melissa sidles around Chef Jim and heads directly to the pool area where JTA is already applying the Hawaiian Tropic and shit talking with Nicole and Booby. Oh, sorry. Bobby. Amber comes out to eat her eggs and suddenly there’s a thunderclap of silence as everyone stops the hater-ama because they’re little passive aggressive wimps who can’t follow through on all their haterriffic shit. Everyone except for my girl Dina, who comes directly up to Amber and, in, I thought, a very straightforward and respectful way basically tells Amber that she and Jimmy have to get the fuck out. Now. No kidding; you guys have to go.
After a weak attempt at changing her mind (my Dina is implacable) Amber gets up and leads her crazy better half up to their Boca bedroom where she tearfully packs her things and huffily leaves. When last we see them Amber and Jimmy the Asshole From Outer Space are sitting on their bags, on the curb, waiting for the same black sedan that ferried Nicole back to her motherfucking husband the previous night. Amber is, what else, crying as she intones over and over, “those people are the worst”. Um, Amber? You’re ALL the worst. Except my Dina.
The Leftovers (Nicole, Bobby, Melissa and JTA) spend the day drinking like the alcoholics that they so clearly are, on a rented yacht as it cruises the Intracoastal Waterway. At one point, as Melissa disrobes down to her, frankly kinda covered up for her, bathing suit. JTA, already lazing in the hottub repeats over and over and over “Look at who I’m married to….this is why I love coming home every night…I come home to this….look at who I’m married to”. Jesus H. Christ ya fucking moron, SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!! We GET IT!! YOU’RE STRAIGHT!! Oooopss…maybe not, though, as drunken horseplay ensues the two loaded dudes jump overboard, to the clear dismay of the boat’s captain, and proceed to splash around in the water, eventually swimming to “shore” where Bobby, he the “fireman” rolls JTA over onto his back and begins to administer “mouth to mouth”. Yeah, so that happened. I’ll say no more about it. Except this: "horseplay" between two dudes is NEVER not about that whole homoerotic subtext. Never.
The episode ends with a chef-prepared dinner back at the Boca house with all the remaining “friends”: Melissa and JTA, who manage to remind us that they’ve now fucked TWICE today…yeah, JTA, keep it up, brother. Ever hear the expression: “Methinks he doth protest too much”? Yeah, I didn’t think so, but trust me I’m pretty sure it applies to you, asshole. Nicole is there but Bobby is too hungover to come downstairs, that is until JTA pours water on his sleepy head and tickles his wittle feet. That gets him right up and down to the table. Of course Dina’s there, too. And who’s this driving up? Well, none other than wayward twin TeRESSa and her motherfucking husband, Rino, who regales the group, scoffing at the rumor, spread the night before about him and his MIL. Apparently, Rino’s Word of the Day calendar had “Outlandish” as that day’s word since he used it about 80 times to describe Jimmy Marchese, he of the Amber and Jimmy Against The World show.
So that’s this week’s recap, folks. The big reveal was kind of a bust but what the hey…we’ve got the budding bromance between JTA and Booby to look forward to. Stay tuned!
Amber, finally appearing to have a semblance of awareness, is all like: WHAT? HUH? THAT MAKES NO SENSE! WHY? Jimmy the Asshole from Outer Space gets all kinda creepy quiet, lowering his voice and inching closer to Amber on the bed, offering to rub her feet. At that point Amber is struggling to keep from cracking up and it becomes clear that this is a totally scripted scene and I’m done. So the question I pose to Bravo is this: is Jimmy the Asshole From Outer Space as bad as all that or did you hand pick him (with an accompanying bump in salary) to serve as this season’s resident weirdo/motherfucker ala Teresa way back when, and/or Danielle? If so, he’s doing a decent job, although that last scene kinda blew his cover for me. So…
Back to the others and Nicole is packing her bags to leave THAT NIGHT! She cannot stay in this crazy house another minute so will be driving up to hang with potential real life motherfucker, and her husband, Rino five minutes away at “their home down here”. So, all this time Rino’s been five minutes away? Huh. Nicole tearfully begs her to reconsider in the morning, but, well, you know how it is with drunks: they gonna do what they gonna do especially if they’re already prone to be full blown drama queens. Which, actually, every single person in this house from Floridian hell is. So off she goes, taking the big black limo back to Rino when, truth be told, bitch probably could have walked. And frankly, tromping off on foot into the darkness, trailing her giant rolling suitcase behind her would have been way cooler. But that’s just me.
At some point in this melee we’re taken back to Jersey to connect with
Awkward plot-advancing dialogue follows wherein Kathy reminds Jacqueline for the 18 millionth time how wonderfully she’s been with Nick her autistic son which, again, call me the worst, but I’m SO FUCKING OVER the Nick storyline. Bravo at its clunkiest is when it tries to take an advocacy role to prove that all this exploitation is for the greater good. What with the scenes of Jacqueline’s kid and the cancer storyline over at Chez Amber. It just comes off as what it is: a network whose bread and butter is broadcasting one freak show after another trying to get us to believe that IT CARES. Just makes me want to say: shut up and bring on the dysfunction. If I wanted gratuitous pandering I’d watch the Jerry Lewis Telethon.
Kathy’s lines give Jacqueline the chance to openly shill her upcoming appearances (with her husband) aimed at raising awareness amongst other couples of disabled children, of how much more challenging marriage under those circumstances can be and how to cope. Yeah, thanks Einstein; what advice are you going to give them? Here’s how to unburden your life and improve your marriage in spite of having the extra stress of a disabled child: be rich. Done and done. Jacqueline is such a putz. Jacqueline, of course, because it wouldn’t be an episode of RHONJ if she didn’t, cries on camera when she talks about her kid or was it when she was talking about missing out on being able to hover over T during these dark, lawsuit times in which she and JJ are embroiled. Truth be told she probably cried for both, sophomoric bitch. Oh, and in a flash to her date night with Chris “I Have An Armada’s Worth of Artillery In My Family Room” Laurita we get to hear him utter some of the most stilted scripted dialogue in…EVER. He tells us about their past and how they met and….I got up to get a glass of OJ, so there you go. Bottom line: since they’re poor now they, like T and JJ, are “downsizing” and it’s going to be sad to move out of their giant home and into a smaller one. Chris has all the feels. As if.
T and JJ are also out on a date night across the bridge in NYC having dinner and spending the night in a big, fancy hotel. T looks kinda worried the whole time, quietly expressing her concern that the whole set-up looks kind of “expensive”. At least one of them is thinking about the, oh, I don’t know, THE APPEARANCE on their part of some frugality, considering their current legal sitch. Which BTW, let’s just stop right here and acknowledge the news this week that both of them will be doing jail time. Kind of shocking that the judge is locking T up, but she is. So, I’m guessing that Andy Cohen is intermittently dancing a jig and looking appropriately somber as he considers the possibilities of exploiting IN REAL LIFE the whole Orange is the New Black vibe that is currently at the top of the A List. You bet he’s got folks working already with the New York State Office of Corrections to set up at least some film time for the next season of RHONJ on the inside with T. Last night was a special Watch What Happens Live with T and JJ that I’ll be blogging about just as soon as I can watch it. But at dinner across the river, JJ offers T a nice toast about being the luckiest guy in the world because he's married to her. Awwww...then he ruins it by announcing that the food here is so good he's getting a boner. Even without the oysters. You got a hotel room for the night, JJ, calm the fuck down; don't wanna peak too early if you know what I mean...wink, wink, nod, nod, say no more, say no more. Thanks, Monty Python.
Back to Boca. Next morning Jimmy the Asshole Alien is up bright and early making scrambled eggs for everyone who are like…uh….OK…didn’t we have a major kerfluffle up in here last night of which YOU, Mr. Eggs, were the chief perp? Melissa who as you all know by now I hate with a white hot intensity, comes shuffling into the kitchen wearing her giant dark glasses even though she’s indoors. Yeah, everyone was shit-fucking-faced last night and now they are all soooo hungooooover. Melissa sidles around Chef Jim and heads directly to the pool area where JTA is already applying the Hawaiian Tropic and shit talking with Nicole and Booby. Oh, sorry. Bobby. Amber comes out to eat her eggs and suddenly there’s a thunderclap of silence as everyone stops the hater-ama because they’re little passive aggressive wimps who can’t follow through on all their haterriffic shit. Everyone except for my girl Dina, who comes directly up to Amber and, in, I thought, a very straightforward and respectful way basically tells Amber that she and Jimmy have to get the fuck out. Now. No kidding; you guys have to go.
After a weak attempt at changing her mind (my Dina is implacable) Amber gets up and leads her crazy better half up to their Boca bedroom where she tearfully packs her things and huffily leaves. When last we see them Amber and Jimmy the Asshole From Outer Space are sitting on their bags, on the curb, waiting for the same black sedan that ferried Nicole back to her motherfucking husband the previous night. Amber is, what else, crying as she intones over and over, “those people are the worst”. Um, Amber? You’re ALL the worst. Except my Dina.
The Leftovers (Nicole, Bobby, Melissa and JTA) spend the day drinking like the alcoholics that they so clearly are, on a rented yacht as it cruises the Intracoastal Waterway. At one point, as Melissa disrobes down to her, frankly kinda covered up for her, bathing suit. JTA, already lazing in the hottub repeats over and over and over “Look at who I’m married to….this is why I love coming home every night…I come home to this….look at who I’m married to”. Jesus H. Christ ya fucking moron, SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!! We GET IT!! YOU’RE STRAIGHT!! Oooopss…maybe not, though, as drunken horseplay ensues the two loaded dudes jump overboard, to the clear dismay of the boat’s captain, and proceed to splash around in the water, eventually swimming to “shore” where Bobby, he the “fireman” rolls JTA over onto his back and begins to administer “mouth to mouth”. Yeah, so that happened. I’ll say no more about it. Except this: "horseplay" between two dudes is NEVER not about that whole homoerotic subtext. Never.
The episode ends with a chef-prepared dinner back at the Boca house with all the remaining “friends”: Melissa and JTA, who manage to remind us that they’ve now fucked TWICE today…yeah, JTA, keep it up, brother. Ever hear the expression: “Methinks he doth protest too much”? Yeah, I didn’t think so, but trust me I’m pretty sure it applies to you, asshole. Nicole is there but Bobby is too hungover to come downstairs, that is until JTA pours water on his sleepy head and tickles his wittle feet. That gets him right up and down to the table. Of course Dina’s there, too. And who’s this driving up? Well, none other than wayward twin TeRESSa and her motherfucking husband, Rino, who regales the group, scoffing at the rumor, spread the night before about him and his MIL. Apparently, Rino’s Word of the Day calendar had “Outlandish” as that day’s word since he used it about 80 times to describe Jimmy Marchese, he of the Amber and Jimmy Against The World show.
So that’s this week’s recap, folks. The big reveal was kind of a bust but what the hey…we’ve got the budding bromance between JTA and Booby to look forward to. Stay tuned!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
