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!

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap Episode Six: Bitchy, Fake Friends Lie! The Guidices Make Sausage! Dirty C Contemplates Life As A Widow!

Opening thoughts i have to get out:

Rosie just called the Adirondack Mountains the Adirondyke Mount-ins. Unironically. I had to rewind and check. Yep, Adirondyke. Mount-ins. Moron.

Thereser's friend Jennifer looks frighteningly like a cat-monkey, some kind of freaky human/cat/monkey hybrid with the most pronounced underbite I've ever seen.

Here's what happened this week:

Al Sr and Dirty C went out to dinner and he bitched about their "retreat" being a few blocks from their kids. Which is not, in his mind, a retreat at all. Inexplicably Dirty C turned the rest of the conversation to discussing how much she does not want to be a widow. Yikes. Watch your, back, Al Sr; bitch be crazy!

Jacqueline despises Thereser and every convo between them becomes a shrill fifth grade playground name calling scream-a-thon. Monumentally boring. They're both fucking crazy. But we already knew that.

Melissa has lunch with her "best friends" Jan and some other boring person, and spends the whole time bragging about her book deal and how she's going to help other wives to super-please their husbands like she does. The friends spend the lunch exchanging evil glances that say: this pain in the ass is an insufferable boor who needs to be taken down a few pegs. And we're the ones to do it.

Melissa and JSTA writhe around each other at some pole dancing/striptease class. Jeez, for someone who spent the entirety of last season screaming in righteous indignation about how she had NEVER BEEN A STRIPPER, Melissa sure knows her way around a pole. These two really are disgusting. They try and wrangle Kathy and King Douchebag to join in but King Douchebag only has horny eyes for Melissa. And tells her so. In front of his wife. Week after week King Douchebag earns his name.

Thereser calls JSTA to convince him to come to the Lake George castle retreat while he's angrily whacking golf balls at the driving range. He agrees but only for the sake of their fucking sainted father. Speaking of whom, he and the other grandparents show up to Thereser and JJs house to make 80 pounds of homemade sausage. Yes, its exactly as disgusting to witness as it sounds.

Finally Jennifer the Realtor and escapee from The Island of Dr Moreau invites Melissa to lunch to rat out Melissa's supposed bestie Jan - she of the exchange of evil looks - who, at the instigation of Crack Hoe Kim D, has shared that Melissa has been giving blow jobs to her (Melissa's) ex boyfriend, thereby cheating on JSTA. Thereser is there listening but says nothing. Silence is concurrence, T, silence is concurrence. Melissa is devastated to hear of this betrayal and, with JSTA, confronts Crack Hoe Kim at a bar basically by macking on JSTA to the point of just about fucking him in public to demonstrate just how solid and un-cheatworthy their marriage is. All of these people are developmentally arrested at age 15. Crack Hoe Kim D tells Melissa that according to Jan, she (Jan) doesn't like Melissa anymore. Which explains the "Melissa is blowing her ex boyfriend" vicious rumor that she's spreading. Melissa keeps reminding us that Jan was in her wedding, which is, I guess, the ultimate deep bond in this three ring circus of bimbos and mimbos. So, at this point I'm thinking Melissa kinda does need to get over herself.

Nothing else happened because this week was just filler lead-up to the Wrassle At The Castle (made that one up myself; pretty good, amiright?), which starts NEXT WEEK! The crazies head up to Lake George in the Adirondyke Mount-ins, to some holistic retreat in a castle, and straight off we see in the preview that JSTA is calling Thereser "scum" and then he and JJ start pounding each other as a result. with Thereser offscreen doing her best Thereser screech. Schweet.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap Episode Five: Thereser Calls For Holistic Healing...No, Really!

We rejoin the RHONJ first with Melissa, who is folding laundry and working on her book, which is a cross between a memoir and a how-to guide for keeping a husband happy. Unlike her father, who, she tells us, used to leave the house to get milk and be gone for two days. Alrighty, then. Melissa is giving her daughter the Cliff's Notes version of what's going to be packed inside of this almighty tome when we see JSTA's big, black SUV pulling into the driveway and we hear him barking out the word "bitch" over and over again. It becomes clear that he's talking to himself and decompressing from the water-thrown-in-his-face encounter he just had with his big sis Thereser at the ever popular, generic neighborhood gym. He finds his wife and daughter upstairs and summarily dismisses the girl so that he can talk plainly to her mutha. At this point Melissa gets up off the bed where she was laundry folding/writing her memoirs, and we see that, not only is she wearing black stretch pants to fold laundry, she's also wearing black stilettos. WTF? Anyway, JSTA gets to bitching about the encounter with T and it comes out that T's accusation, some trifle about Melissa tweeting that she (Melisa) owns, doesn't rent, her Chanel bag, because she's not the one declaring bankruptcy. Hoo boy! When JSTA learns from Melissa that she did, in fact, tweet such, he gets all kinda cranked up at her and goes on a mini-rampage about how T is still his sister and YOU CAN'T SAY STUFF LIKE THAT! I'M YOUR HUSBAND AND I'M GONNA TEACH YOU RIGHT FROM WRONG and other such bullshit crap. Melissa looks kinda surprised, truth be told, cause she's not used to JSTA taking his sister's side on anything. Also, note to Bravo producers: find some other kind of shirt for these ladies to wear that doesn't so clearly show the outlines of their body mikes. Kinda spoils the mood, if you know what I mean.

Next we join T and JJ at their kids' soccer game. Totes boring. Plus, Thereser has never heard of the expression Napoleon complex, which JJ tells her is what's ailing her brother. Also, she repeats her allegation, for the billionth time, that JSTA is brainwashed by Melissa. I honestly don't know why this segment made it to air.

Jacqueline, Kathy, Dirty C and Drunk Ass Rosie are playing the bridge and tunnel crowd over at some chi-chi salon in NYC. Midway Dirty C gets a call from Thereser who tells her that at the gym her brotha treated her "very aggressively" for no reason even though he told Dirty C he wanted to reconcile. Um, not exactly T. Dirty C told two big fat lies to get you both thinking the other wanted to make up. Dirty C suggests that maybe they need professional help. Um, didn't they do that already? Thereser says maybe we need to go for holistic healing. I'm still amazed that these two bimbos are speaking cordially to each other. At the last reunion Thereser referred to Dirty C's midsection as "blubber, blubber, blubber" and according to Dirty C, Thereser's green dress marked her as a snake and Lauren Manzo was two blood pressure points away from leveling an M16 in Thereser's face. Anyhoo, Dirty C is, she tells us officially, out of this loop and who should leap into the breach but Drunk Ass Rosie. Super great! Oh, and before we leave the salon Dirty C does what she does best - state the fucking obvious - by officiously telling the gals that: "they will never be whole if they don't get over this stuff." Jesus H. Christ, Dirty C: STFU. Also, why are you dragging all the girls to a salon in NYC for makeovers when Lauren has a perfectly good makeover place - Cafface - right there in Joisey. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: what does Cafface even mean? Nothing. It means nothing. Lauren Manzo is an idiot.

Kathy wants to go into the mail order cannoli business and she's stuck with King Douchebag as her biz partner. Here he comes like a sledgehammer and announces he's ordered like 10K plain white shipping boxes. But wait! Kathy had it all planned to ship her cannolis in these pretty blue boxes each one tied with a striped ribbon. King Douchebag blows her off with his obnoxious assurance that those dainty little things would never make it. Kathy is understandably pissed off - this is HER business venture and King Douchebag is steamrolling all these decisions without even so much as a conversation. King Douchebag closes out the scene by telling us "I have to be involved in the business side. I married a housewife not an entrepreneur". Seriously, Kath, do you need the names of some really good lawyers? Just say the word, babe; just say the word.

The Stupid As Fuck Manzo kids are having dinner with Dirty C at her Hoboken apartment. "Barely Able To Tie His Shoes Chris" announces that he doesn't want to have kids. Praise Jesus, intones every viewer who actually is concerned with the future of the human species. Especially, he doesn't want a girl. Then he proceeds to utter some of the most offensive shit that anyone has said on these shows and in this three-ring circus of moronic bottom-feeders that's saying something. Here's what he said:

"If I had a girl, straight to the church steps with her. Because from birth to age 10 I have to make sure it doesn't die. From 10 to 25 I have to make sure she doesn't turn into a whore. That is a lot of pressure!"

I had to turn off the TV for awhile so that I could plan his demise in earnest. That DNA must NEVER enter the world. EVER. Damn he's a pinworm. But wait! It gets SO MUCH WORSE! Deeply, deeply self-hating sister Lauren joins in with a self-immolating glee to rival Pagliacci:

"Mom, you had it easy 'cause I was fat in my whore years so you didn't have to worry."

Dirty C, not to be outdone, and in the fun house mirror that is her horrific relationship with her children, says, while smirking along with her two sons:

"Hold up, now, you know what they say about fat girls."

Chris the pinheaded pinworm helpfully adds:

"Fat girls are blow job queens, everybody knows that".

Dirty C shakes her fake red hair in triumph! Did she raise these boys right or what? Meg Griffin's got nothing on Lauren Manzo! Lap Band Surgery or no Lap Band Surgery, their little sis will always be the fat blow job queen of the Manzo family. It's like Lord of the Flies in there. Andy Cohen, shame on you for airing that evil garbage, you degenerate whoremonger! The man has zero shame. Zero. You almost need a decontamination shower after watching something like that. Feh.

Drunk Ass Rosie makes her first foray into the world of family fence mending (basically because she's the only one who HASN'T done it yet) by inviting JSTA out for a drink. Their ensuing conversation has been had by a nearly infinite combination of the jackasses on this show over the last several years, so just imagine any version of the "we've gotta mend the family" combo and you're there. Oh, and at this point I'm pretty sure that Drunk Ass Rosie is a hopeless alcoholic. Also, JSTA? The omnipresent tiny knit cap winter and summer went out of style like five years ago, bro.

Again with the Manzos, (senior this time) who are cooking in their Hoboken apartment and, even though Al SR has been (supposedly) a restaurant owner his entire adult life, he can't make scrambled eggs without setting off the smoke alarm. Oy.

King Douchebag has gone ahead and leased Kathy an industrial kitchen so she can test all her new recipes. Kathy is again pissed that King Douchebag just went ahead and did something without so much as a chat about his plans. He tells us he found a place that rents by the day, by the hour - its a test kitchen. What alternate universe do these goombas live in where industrial kitchens are rented by the fucking hour? And what exactly are they cooking there? Paging Walter White...Also, the guy who leased him the place? Way sketchy.

Theresers writing her blog. So? She gets a call from "Ro" inviting her out for a drink to...have the same...boring...repetitive conversation. Even Thereser says: "here we go again." We're right there with you T.

Drunk Ass Rosie and Thereser meet for drinks to tawk, and scream at each other, but really its just to set up the Bravo producers' plan for the families to head to some holistic healing retreat to get...healed? We know this because Thereser has a scripted line reading wherein she reaches the conclusion that a holistic retreat is the way to go. How do we know its scripted?

1. Thereser would never come up with such a plan and,
2. She can't even read the lines without almost bursting out laughing.

Also? During their staged frenzied screaming: YOU'RE THE PROBLEM! YOUR SISTAS THE PROBLEM! Drunk Ass Rosie, while pounding the table in righteous indignation, manages to break her highball glass, spill her 80th scotch, and slice the fuck out of her hand. Please Bravo? An intervention for Ro? She could even get her own spinoff: Rosie In Rehab: The Dry Drunk Years!

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap Episode Four: The Showdown at the Gym K Corral

It's time for the RHONJ Recap from me, The ABIB! Here's the highlights, well, maybe the lowlights:

The Gorga/Guidice Interstellar World of Dysfunction is starting to coalesce. That is to say, Thereser and JSTA and their respective minions are starting to circle the wagons in earnest. Melissa tells JSTA about the disco party ambush and JSTA, not surprised, refers to Crack Hoe Kim D and Gym Spy Linda as Thereser's "soldiers". Yikes. Time to lay off The Soprano's there, JSTA. On the other side of the interstellar lunatic ride, Thereser, as per normal, is bitching out Melissa and her brotha to largely monosyllabic Juicy Joe. JJ seems even less interested than we are, if that's possible, and basically dismisses Melissa as a lying, scheming bitch. With a gigantic forehead. Really, JJ? You're married to the First Lady of the Planet of the Apes and you wanna go to foreheads?

Unfortunately Bravo did NOT hear my plea to get the fuck rid of the collossally annoying Manzo kids, so here we go to Hoboken where the brothers Manzo are about to open a new restaurant. In the clip montage leading up to this we are treated to past views of the epic failure that was BLK. Why did it fail you ask? Um, because it's fucking BLACK WATER. Duh. Anyway, in the clip we see the two losers trying mightily to shill this inexplicable swill - WHO THE FUCK NEEDS WATER TO BE BLACK - with a great shot of Uncle Chris Laurita, the erstwhile investor, looking on with an expression of mild annoyance coupled with bafflement. Probably was baffled with himself for having agreed to this meshuggana nonsense. We also get a much older shot of Little Al telling Dirty C that law school REJECTED HIM! Which prompts DC to admonish him to "NEVER LET ANYONE TELL YOU YOU CAN'T DO SOMETHING!". Then she bursts into very loud, kinda fake, weeping. Uh, well, truth be told, DC, law school CAN tell your precious prince that he can't do something: he can't be a fucking LAWYER! Anyway, DC's crying but Little Al seems pretty cool with the whole thing. So let's see...he's gotten rejected from: college, law school, police academy and failed miserably at trying to sell toxic waste as an appealing drink. So what's the next logical step? Opening a restaurant, that's what! They've hired an executive chef but DC barges in there anyway and tells him that he's making the meatballs all wrong. I found myself yelling at the TV: RUN EXECUTIVE CHEF! RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE! Oh, the place is called Little Town and it's going to feature all things Joisey. Yeah, 'cause there's no other places like that in...New Jersey. At this point I'm reminded of a bit from SNL wherein Amy Poehler, reporting the news, says that New Jersey is about to change their license plate motto to read: New Jersey: Who Farted? For anyone that's ever driven through Elizabeth, NJ, that makes a whole lotta sense.

Quick cut to Kathy and Rosie having dinner with their mother. The requisite bitch and moan fest about Thereser's father ensues. Kathy's mother and Thereser's father are siblings but have not spoken in many years. If they ever told us what the nature of that rift is I honestly can't recall. Clearly Mama does NOT want to talk about her brother but Big 'Ol Drunk Ass Rosie, in between slurps of Scotch, insists upon it. She blubbers endlessly about this that and the other, mostly how Thereser is a disrespectful whore, and through it all Mama remains silent. Kathy joins in at first but quickly gets it that her mother does NOT want to discuss it and clams up. Not so Drunk Ass Rosie, who, rather than getting her mother's very apparent non-verbal cues, presses on more loudly and with more angry rhetoric until Mama finally tells her to STOP! Thanks, Mama; it's always annoying to have to listen to a drunk-ass nutjob go on and on so we're right there with you.

Next up: Kathy has planned a co-birthday party for King Douchebag who is turning 49 and Victoria who is turning 19. So I guess it's a biggie since it's the last one before 50 and the last in the teens. One would think she'd just go ahead and wait for the big 5-0 and the big 2-0, but what the hell. Once again we're whisked to some classay eatery and the crowd's all there: the Manzos, the Lauritas, the Gorgas. Of course Thereser and JJ were not invited. Soon enough DC is seated amongst all her bitches and dispensing her sage advice with the same holier-than-thou blah, blah, blah demeanor. She predicts that Thereser is NEVA GONNA TAWK TO ANY OF YOUS. Duh, DC, what the fuck? Who on earth DIDN'T KNOW THAT? She is such a sanctimonious bitch. But I see cracks in the goodgals exteriors. Both Kathy and Melissa are starting to get annoyed with DC and, truth be told, with each other. We are again dragged through the detailed daily schedule of Thereser's father's recent hospital stay, as Melissa recounts to the gals her attack at the hands of T and her "soldiers" at Gia's birthday party. Kathy especially, is not 'pressed. Her face seems to imply that Melissa's story, no matter how heartfelt, doesn't hold water. This might get interesting as Team Gorga/Manzo/Wakile/Laurita begins to unravel. At this point I'm picturing Thereser, dressed as the Emperor from Star Wars, rubbing her hands together and intoning: Gooooood.....goooooood...

Also at the birthday bash, JSTA tries to get a hooker for Little Joseph, who at 16, is seated at the big boy's bench and thus open to all kinds of bullshit. Joseph seems truly alarmed as the girl sits down next to him and leaps to his feet, stuttering: HEY I'M ONLY 16! Yeah, boy, but JSTA wants to watch. Yuck.

Back to the girls table and Drunk Ass Rosie is bellowing about some crap or other and screams at an attractive woman (with her HUSBAND) across the room that can't she get "JUST ONE KISS!?" I'm sensing an intervention is in store for Drunk Ass Rosie. Shockingly the woman grants the request and so we get to see THAT. Drunk Ass Rosie macking on some stranger while HER HUSBAND LOOKS ON, with a rather disturbed expression showing clearly through his strained smile. I mean, can you imagine this group of nutcases winding up on any random night in some bar or restaurant and just basically bull-in-a-china-shopping the whole place? Once kissed, Drunk Ass Rosie gets wind of the conversation at the ladies table, that Thereser doesn't want to see any of them. Well, that's all it takes; Drunk Ass Rosie goes full blast, screaming like a maniac (and drawing frightened looks from the other patrons) about how "SHE DON'T WANT TO SEE US? MAYBE WE DON'T WANT TO FUCKING SEE HER!" She makes various rude physical gestures and basically bombasts her way to the center of the conversation. I'm going to just say here that, as of this season, Drunk Ass Rosie is becoming as intolerable for me as Dirty C. Yeah, it's that bad. She's stopped being the pretty-stupid-but-really-kinda-harmless-cute sideline character and is now the pretty-stupid-angry-belligerent-drunk character. Who constantly uses her belligerence to horn into the center of every scene she's a part of. Nicht git.

So the final set piece of this week is the Showdown At The Gym K Corral between Thereser and JSTA. JSTA is there early in the AM, doing some serious lifting (again, JSTA, the loud grunting with every lift? Right out of The Sopranos. STOP IT!), when who should spot him but Thereser, who is getting one of Gym Soldier Linda's evil workouts. T decides she should bury the hatchet and approaches JSTA to say hello. Before that she AGAIN asks the question: why are they at MY GYM if they're not obsessed with me? Oy vey, T, where to begin? JSTA is flat on his back under the weights and T offers to spot him. JSTA says, not entirely jokingly, are you going to drop them on me? Assured that she won't JSTA proceeds to do one more press with T serving as his spotter and then gets up. Within like three seconds they are at each other, hurling accusations and pressin' charges! JSTA endures a few hollow volleys about Melissa's devotion to their father and blah, blah, blah and then he brings out the big guns. Hey, he flings at his sister: "I wouldn't call my wife a C..T" Yeowch. Didn't know you had it in you, JSTA. Of course what he's referring to is a scene from last year's trip to California, where JJ receives, and accepts, a call on his cell as they're all seated to dinner in celebration of DC's 50th. The camera followed him off screen and we hear him speaking quietly to someone, who we presume, is a girlfriend (but who later he tells us was a business partner) and to this person refers to his "wife the c..t". Again, yeowch. Thereser recoils from her brother's reminder of this fairly awful fact and, in true Thereser fashion, deflects the issue back to Melissa, how she controls JSTA and well, the same old Thereser same old. JSTA presses on asking T how JJ treats his daughters and that makes her get the Thereser crazy eye, that of the old table flipping variety, but instead she inarticulately growls at him. And then flings the contents of her water bottle at JSTA as she angrily stalks out of the gym. JSTA, not to be outdone, and probably pretty pissed off about the water throwing, follows after her shouting accusations and repeating the incriminating volley. To us JSTA in his voice-over, states that the biggest mistake his sister ever made was marrying JJ. Hmmm...could be true? But you know, JSTA, she's pretty wacko herself, so, there's that.

Tune in next time when we continue to follow the spiraling vortex of dysfunction that is The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Oh, and the surely imminent demise of that fucking restaurant.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Episode 3: It's Gia's Birthday Party!

We open on Thereser bustin' her ass - literally - at the gym with her gym rat friend Linda. She's telling Linda that she's excited for Gia's 12th BD party. Thereser's little clone has invited 65 of her closest friends to her first co-ed party but Thereser don't want her tawkin to boys. Thereser sent an invite to her bruthas house 'cause after her tawk with Dirty C she's feeling cautiously optimistic. Dirty C who has willfully inserted herself between Thereser and Joey Still The Ape, bemoans that she has to act as go between for the Gorga/Guidice vortex of dysfunction. I'm just going to make my standard response to Dirty C. Dirty C: STFU.

Gia and Juicy Joe are out getting some frozen yogurt and Gia says that she can't stand being with Milania because Milania insulted her body. She said Gia's got "a hairy grill". Shit where do these kids get this crap? JJ don't understand and all confused says: "she said you got hairy teeth?" Now, JJ, even I got the reference. Gia is clearly disgusted having to explain the real meaning to her father - IN A YOGURT SHOP WITH A CUTE YOGURT SERVER GUY RIGHT THERE- but dimwit finally gets it and reassures her that its just part of puberty. Gia is all ewwwwwwwwwww. We're right with you girl. Truly though they seem to have a sweet relationship. Oh, and Thereser tells us that they had to get right on the sex talk with Gia 'cause she walked in on them bumpin' uglies. But at least they were done. Again, and all together now: ewwwwwwwwww.

Back at Stately Laurita Manor, Dirty C is laying on the guilt to JSTA with a backhoe. "IFGAWFABID something should happen to your fatha I don't want you to have any regrets." Oh, and Dirty C confesses that she lied to JSTA, because Thereser didn't say she wanted to sit down an tawk with her brutha, she said she was willing to accept an apology from him. Uh, that's kind of a major discrepancy there, Dirts McGirts. Which brings me to my standard response to Dirty C: STFU.

Next we join up with Kathy's son Joseph and her sister Rosie tooling around in King Douchebag's new Ferrari. Aunt Rosie is egging the kid to goose the Ferraris accelerator in spite of the rain and heavy, fast moving traffic that is everywhere. He maybe has a learners permit. Maybe. But being the lunkhead offspring of King Douchebag he's totes up for the joyride. Dumbass Rosie tells us that she's "not the mother, she's the Aunt and she wants to be the FUN AUNT!" Huh...actually she maybe wants to be The Vehicular Homicide Aunt.

Back home, they pull into the driveway and Kathy and King Douchebag are mad as hell that they took the car out. At least Kathy is. Turns out KD out-douches himself by taking the kid aside ostensibly to chastise him but as soon as they're out of earshot KD is all: "so how was the car did you drive it good was it fun?" Basically sandbagging his wife to make "cool Dad" points with Joseph. He is the biggest asshole in a show ear-deep in assholes. The scene ends with The Three Cretins mocking Kathy for being a nagging grouch. Oh, Kath...please take this fish-lipped, slack-jawed, rap-mogul-glasses-wearing freak of nature to divorce court for every penny he has. Plus one bright red Ferrari.

Back at Chez Gorga we learn from JSTA that he's so sick that he ate a bowl of soup and it came right out his ass. Also we learn that in spite of telling Dirty C that he's up for a chat with Thereser, he changed his mind and doesn't want to see T or JJ. and as for that invite to Gia's BD party, he ain't going. Right about now Melissa's Voice Over is annoyed that Dirty C is having these convos with her husband without calling her. Back off Dirty C, says Melissa. Uh, yeah. At the gym Melissa has brought Kathy to "the easiest workout she does" and Kath's about to croak. Afterward the gals go for smoothies and even though Melissa says she's got a sore throat that "comes and goes" and therefore can't go to visit her father in law, Kath ain't buyin' and to the camera calls BS on Melissa. The gals are starting to eat each other folks.

Meanwhile, Linda, who we saw in the opening sequence working Thereser like a muthafucka at the gym is actually a spy planted by Thereser to report on ANYONE who dares to come into Thereser's gym. Thereser, having a coffee with Crack Hoe Kim D, gets a call from Linda, who reports, in scathing detail, about how Kathy, Melissa and Jacqueline are hanging out at Thereser's gym! The three women have a good laugh wondering how "Kathy could get her fat ass through the door" and how "Jacqueline's fat ass hasn't seen the inside of a gym in months" and on and on. Thereser tells us that her gym is "at least 45 minutes from Jacqueline's house" which proves she's there trespassing on Thereser's territory. To be strong on her.

Meanwhile, at the Manzo compound, Dirty C and her kid Stupid Ass Chris drive up to find her sis Fran out front with a giant pig named, we are told, Moo Shu. Stupid Ass Chris stupidly announces that he "just ate Chinese, like five minutes ago but now he wants more." OMG can't someone at Bravo just get rid of these monumentally moronic Manzo kids? Andy Cohen, help us out here would you? Dirty C needs to concoct a plan so that Al SR doesn't see Moo Shu so she figures she'll whisk him off to Hoboken until Moo Shu the rescue pig finds a better home. Or until Stupid Ass Chris fucking eats him. Oh and in the house we get a shot of a doggie peeing in the Manzo foyer. Why? Who the hell knows why?

The Guidice girls are all getting haircuts in prep for Gia's upcoming BD party. Gia heard from her Tia Joe, aka JSTA and...drum roll...he's not coming. Gia tells Thereser that he has pneumonia and that she's OK with him not coming but Thereser is determined to egg her directly into angry disappointment with the helpful reminder: "but he's your godfather". Gia is having none of it and tells Thereser to drop it! You go girl, way to shut down the Mama Drama. I'd give Gia a high five if I could but I can't so I lamely give one to the TV.

Melissa is getting her two older kids ready for the party by spraying enough lacquer on the boy's head to ignite an ICBM. Here's a tip kid: stay clear of the BD candles. In walks the ailing JSTA and promptly announces "I gotta put a plug in my ass". OMG, where do I begin with that set-up line? With sooooo many rejoinders to choose from I'll just let it be.

A butt plug? Really?

HEY JSTA I THINK YOU LEFT IT OVER AT LAURITAS PLACE THE OTHER NIGHT!

Sorry, I just had to.

JSTA gives Melissa her fighting orders. "Don't take no lip from nobody. If that Kim D's there you spit in her face."

The fabulous party is in full fabulous force when we join. Not surprisingly it's at some ultra-glitzy neon palace and the place is swarming with kids. Gia is surrounded by a gaggle of girls, and one boy, and they are all busily engaged with their smart phones. We learn that the boy, Christopher, is Gia's BFFL - Best Friend For Life. I actually found this kind of endearing, that Gia is BFFs with presumably a gay boy. I think Gia's going to be OK in spite of the fact that her mother and father are crazy. Speaking of which, JJ approaches the boy and, with a strange smile on his face, demands to know: "do you got a crush on my daughter?" Except since its so loud in there he has to shout it at the kid. Twice. Poor Little Christopher looks stricken. His face is filled with worry, confusion and fear but mostly he just looks terrified 'cause let's face it: its JJ doing the asking and he probably garrotes people for a living. Poor Christopher, who is likely thinking: crush? I want her outfit!

Now here comes Crack Hoe Kim D into the party just about the time Melissa arrives with her three kids. Also Gym Spy Linda is there so we've got the setup for the three witches bringing down the curse onto Melissa. They're already getting Thereser all righteously worked up because Melissa didn't visit Thereser's father in the hospital until after he'd already been there for four days. What a putan! Well it only takes a hot NJ minute for the three harpies to start, as Thereser so wonderfully puts it "interrogizing" Melissa, demanding that she exactly state to them when she visited Threser's father. Can I just state the obvious here and point out that these ladies live at a whole new level of pettiness. It has now become a fifth grade gang up sitch and Melissa is being barked at by three bejeweled attack dogs.

WHAT DAY? WHAT TIME? NO WAY THATS WHEN I WAS THERE! WHY YOU LYIN' MELISSA?

Not surprisingly Melissa gathers up her kids, before they can even have cake, and gets the fuck out of there. And the episode ends with Thereser, the original Mean Girl, bitching out Melissa The Wuss to JJ for being such a BIG SENSITIVE BABY, who's off to cry to JSTA and alienate him further. So what else is new? In the "coming next week" clip, Dirty C, sporting a breathtakingly unflattering pair of hipster specs, intones the obvious (par for the course) by telling Melissa? Jacqueline? Kathy? that Thereser will NEVER speak to them. Oh, and Crazy Sister Rosie's back doing her best Fred Flintstone In An Inarticulate Rage. Oh, and Dirty C? STFU.

The Long Island Princesses, Episode 2: Wherein Casey Proves She Can Hold A Grudge...and Draw...Well, Kind Of

We join Amanda (she of the gay boyfriend Jeff) and her Mom Babs at the ritzy boutique where Babs works. So, correction, Amanda IS Jewish. So the two of them are pawing their way through all the new clothes that have come in and Babs is beyond delighted to see so much in the way of animal print, because, as she tells us, "Animal prints are so me!". OK, Babs; why are we not surprised?Amanda, its dawning on me, is probably the most slow-witted of all the LI princesses and that's saying something because this crowd is not solving any Rubick's Cubes anytime soon. Or ever. Amanda takes Valley Girl speech to a whole new level and draws out every word as she introduces Joey, who has just wandered into the store, to Babs: "Thiz Joeeeeeeyyyyyy..Thiz my Mooooooooom..."

Joey has come by to apologize to Amanda about her drunk-ass friend at Erica's pool party crashing around and throwing shade at Amanda and her manly-man, Jeff. Joey is totes..."Sorry but it's not my fault. I didn't condone the words my drunk friend used and I just want you to know that I support you." Support her in what? Is this going to be some kind of Showdown at the Fendi Corral? Amanda and her seemingly-barely-aware-heavy-lidded eyes are not impressed. We know this because the camera lingers on her long enough for her to pull a farbissine face that would choke an ox. Since she's not much to look at to begin with: all googly eyes, original nose, zero chin, one would advise her against ever doing that on camera again. Nicht git, babe; nicht git.

Chanel comes to collect Ashlee to take her to meet her "guy magnet" friend Casey so they can hopefully sloppy-seconds their way into eligible Jewish men. BTDubs, Ashlee's Dad, he of the mani-pedi, LOVES Chanel's outfit and tells her so the moment she walks in the front door. Are there any non-gay men on this show? After a brief confab with Mr. and Mrs. Ashlee's Parents, wherein the mother basically tells Chanel to help her daughter to find a male who isn't crippled or a felon, the girls start to giggle excitedly about the prospects of heading into the city. Before they can head out, though, Ashlee needs to brush her hair so she dispatches her Daddy to her bathroom to fetch her her hairbrush. He obediently does this, after asking her from the balcony which of the four different brushes does his little (non-ironic; the bitch is 4'9", she told us herself) princess want, she directs him to the correct brush and the hot gals are ready to rumble. Before they go, though, Ashlee tells everyone that she'd like to find a man who is forty-ish but not "all wrinkly". Oy.

After much squealing and screaming in the car as we see them whiz down the LI Expwy, the girls get to the city and hit a club and it is, indeed, filled with men! Casey is a GODDESS! Quickly, though, they and we notice that lots of the men are dancing with...each other? Hey! Its GAY night! Ashlee says she's not going to find anyone here. Hey, Ash, your Mom did! Burn! Also, Chanel's man-magnet buddy Casey is nowhere to be found. But wait! Here she comes! Striding down the street in a bare midriff dress and a smile. We hear in a Chanel voice-over that Casey grew up on LI but now lives in the city. Chanel says Casey is one of her best friends. Turns out that 10 years ago Erica The Drunk stole Casey's boyfriend on the eave of prom! She already had a dress! Oy such a shanda! So there's totes bad blood between them.

Meanwhile, back on the Island, Amanda and Jeff are out to dinner with Erica the Drunk and Rob. Erica the Drunk tells us that she's known Rob since high school, but back then she basically wouldn't have been caught dead with him. But now...at her current age and with her current prospects, basically bupkes, he's looking pretty good. Erica the Drunk, I'm discovering, is a bit of a sociopath. And really stupid. The waiter drops by to announce the evening's specials and one of them is some kind of dish with octopus. Amanda, while the waiter stands by patiently, tells her friends about a story she read (we can only guess where, but my money's on The Weekly World News) about a woman who ate octopus that, unknown to her, had eggs in it and then she "had like baby octopuses coming out of her mouth". The waiter politely excuses himself, planning to spit in her drink, we can only hope. Next we hear how Jeff stalked Amanda for two weeks at the train station on LI and simultaneously shopped madly to find himself just the right outfit for when he planned to introduce himself to her. He SO wanted to go with the heckle feather boa, but the color just didn't work with his eyes. Pssht. (The ABIB made that part up). Once appropriately clothed, he sat directly in front of her on the train and asked about her white iPhone and she complimented him on his awesome outfit and just like that it was a match! A match made in Beard Heaven! Not to be outdone by this saccharine, gushing bullshit, Erica the Drunk, starts to slobber all over poor Rob announcing in bad acting 101 voice how "she LOVES HIM SO MUCH" and is "SO HAPPY THEY'RE TOGETHER". They start to kiss, at the table. Jeff enthuses with a forceful wave, "if you're kissing, we're kissing!" Then starts to "kiss" Amanda unbelievably actually making an overt mmmmmmmmmmmmm noise. Jesus he is SO FUCKING GAY!!So now we have two couples basically making out in the middle of what appears to be a decent restaurant. I'm reminded of the "Schmoopy" episode on Seinfeld where Jerry and his "Schmoopy" have a kissing match across the coffee shop table from George and Susan. Except that was played for intentional laughs. These people are just freakish buffoons and pretty much the lowest form of human life. Amazingly I keep watching.

Blessedly we leave that freak show behind and end up at...Casey's childhood home out on LI, where she is going through her artwork from when she was 13 and tells us that she's a cocktail waitress in NYC but art is her life. Um, from the looks of this "art" I have to say: "Don't quit your day job babe". Chanel drops by and immediately begins the expository dig into the old fight between Casey and Erica in high school. Bravo at its most clunky. So, Erica stole Casey's boyfriend, the love of her life, just because she could. Casey already had a prom dress! Ten years later the memory still haunts her and she just can't let it go. Um, didn't the dude have something to do with it, Case? Nevermind. Chanel has come by to issue an invite to Casey to come out to the Hamptons for a fab Shabbat weekend. Chanel, ostensibly the most observant Jew in the bunch, is going to show these gals how Shabbat is DONE. She's got a party bus and a chef and she's good to go. Oh, and Erica will be there. That part has Casey kinda spooked so Chanel says she can sleep in her room with her but that she has to come.

Next we learn from Joey that in high school Erica was deemed the hottest girl on LI. Hmmmm, really? In a wine-drinking scene at Erica's parents' house, Joey also tells Erica that she (Erica) slept with Joey's boyfriend in high school, too. So, now the count is up to stealing Casey's boyfriend and ruining prom for her (and to hear Casey tell it, the rest of her life to date) and fucking Joeys boyfriend. A reveal that Erica has barely any memory of. Joey has to intone the boy's name and give Erica a few moments to try and remember before the light bulb goes off over her head and she IDs him. Erica's kind of an aggressive slutty hoebag, no? Casey tells us she's still freaked out about what Erica did 10 years ago because her Dad left her Mom when Casey was two for another woman. She can't remember the last time she saw him. For what it's worth, Casey's Mom seems fine with it. Classic Bravo bullshit.

The party bus comes, it picks up everyone but Casey, who is driving out herself and the girls are deep into the Pinot Grigio within fifteen seconds. Especially Erica the Drunk. I observe that Erica the Drunk's drinking seems to really trouble itty bitty Ashlee. But she's a nervous chalaria about everything, so...Out in the Hamptons Chanel brings the Hebrew with what I can say from personal experience, is the MOST sacrelilgious lighting of Shabbat candles ever. I'm asking the TV: why are the fucking candles burned down nearly to the candlestick when she lights them? What the fuck is up with that? If this is how the Shabbat prayer is introduced to non-Jewish viewers I have to say: shame on you, Andy Cohen! You're a MOT, asshole! Anyway, the manufactured drama ensues as the girls sit down to dinner and Erica starts to drunkenly run her mouth and Casey tells her to shut up and Erica runs crying from the table and calls Rob and all the girls basically start to run around and wring their hands and get all fahrklempt. And that's it for the episode. Can I also say: what's the deal with the retro-70s hippy headbands that these girls are wearing? Did not see that on Fashion Police, girls. I may have to nominate you for FashHole of the Week!

The Wendy's Girl: Giving Gingers Everywhere A Bad Name

You've seen her. On TV, in print, online, she's everywhere and she's giving every honest redheaded person on earth a black eye with her superior, know-it-all, "hey you fucking slob, you're lucky I showed up to prove to you what a clueless loser you are" vibe. It never fails, some hapless schmuck is getting ready to bite into some crap or other and along comes this evil little bitch to cheerfully tell him that he has chosen...poorly, as she makes to bite into HER far superior, much more tasty and much more fiscally sound food choice: a Wendy's whatever. Poor schmuck gets all embarrassed and pretends for a half second that his original choice is still viable...he's cool with it...he's not the least bit shamed by her fake cheery bombast. But that false bravado only lasts a moment more because everyone who comes face-to-face with the blistering wrath that is The Wendy's Girl knows it's only a matter of time before they're going to give in. To her better judgement, her far more appealing offering, because her cheerful "Now That's Better!" chirp is a very thinly veiled threat to eat HER Wendy's crap or face HER Wendy's judging wrath. Every dude who owns a TV knows the drill and dares not to question the Pavlovian command when she barks it:

"Feet Up! Game On! Face deep in a Baconater!"

She's a cross between Nurse Wratchet and every fast food eating, can't get a date, online gaming nerd's wet dream. She's Mommy and the hot intern all rolled into one: YOU'LL EAT WHAT I TELL YOU AND YOU'LL LIKE IT, MISTER! Me? I'd like to see her get her comeuppance and being The ABIB, I've thought it through and here's how I see it going down.

After a day's worth of shaming non-Wendy's eating losers, our evil, red-headed know-it-all is headed home to her meticulously decorated apartment, where even a misplaced paper doily is straightened immediately lest it ruin the perfect neatness that is "home". Because you know her place is a just-so girly cave whose museum-like cleanliness is a reflection of her self-righteousness. She's even bossy to her belongings. Anyway, halfway there she senses that she's not alone and turns about to find herself face-to-face with Ronald McDonald and The Burger King.

Hello, Wendy, Ronald purrs malevolently, how's tricks?

Yeah, Red, The King chimes in, how's every little thing?

What do you two losers want? I'm in a hurry here...to check out your falling sales numbers among the key demographics that don't want toys with their lunches, cheap paper crowns or anything cooked in a greasy flame.

The King recoils slightly from that one and she knows she's struck a blow. But Ronald advances closer and leans in.

In a million years you'll never get the kind of numbers that I'll be able to take for granted into the next decade, you poser bitch.

This one hits home and Wendy's Girl staggers back slightly, but just as quickly recovers her composure and advances.

Bring it you clown-faced freak! I'll take your sorry-ass Big Macs on any day of the fucking week. Just try me! I'll bring the Baconater AND some Chili Cheese Fries AND Asiago Ranch Chicken AND a chocolate/vanilla swirled Frosty down on your sorry ass so hard you'll wish you'd never been hatched out of whatever ad man's head you came from. Whatever sick fuck that was.

Now The King has recovered and, side-by-side with Ronald McDonald, they begin to slowly advance on The Wendy's Girl, who stands her ground, feet firmly planted, hands on her hips in defiance of their menace. She actually starts to laugh, shaking her head back and forth in derisive amusement.

You old fuckers don't even have a clue, do you? They eat my shit BECAUSE of ME! ME! The Wendy's Girl! They do what I tell them to do so buzz the fuck off!

The King and Ronald stop short and look at each other warily. A bead of sweat trickles slowly down The King's forehead. Ronald steps forward and whistles shrilly. Stepping out from around the corner are Mayor McCheese, The Hamburgler, Grimace, Birdy the Early Bird, and The Fry Kids. The Wendy's Girl is now surrounded but is still defiant, her eyes ablaze.

We've got you now, says Ronald, and we're gonna have a little "discussion", aren't we fellas?

The other characters chuckle as they close in.

With that, The Wendy's Girl, unleashes a high-pitched, venomous cackle and as she disappears into a cloud of red smoke her voice echos eerily all around them.

"Now that's better!"

An icy wind howls down the street. The other characters all scatter, except for The Burger King, who straightens his paper crown and strides purposefully into the setting sun.

The Carolina BBQ Tendercrisp Sandwich, he whispers into the gathering darkness as he smiles to himself, yes, I think that will do just fine.

The Hyperbole Police: ABIB Gonna Have To Cite You

“I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” Howard Beale, Network (1976)

Are you, like The ABIB, troubled by the wholesale overuse of perfectly innocent adjectives that can’t speak and/or defend themselves against the wanton abuse of their appropriate usage? To wit:

OMG!!! I just ate THE MOST FABULOUS AND DELICIOUS SANDWICH EVER!!! – Beyond doubtful. Furthermore, if true, the fact that you haven’t shared this with CNN, The New York Times, and Reuters is just plain shitty. Don’t you think everyone else would like to try such a culinary marvel? Bitch.

Had SOOOOOOO many amazing events to attend but now I’m SO EXHAUSTED I CANNOT MOVE!!! – Wrongful use of overstatement (honestly, you literally can't move?) only made worse by being in the context of a humble brag; always annoying.

Can I just say that I WORK WITH THE BEST PEOPLE EVER and am SO HUMBLED TO BE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE IN THEIR PRESENCE? – Wow…did you ascend to Heaven and somehow get to work with Mahatma Gandhi? Jesus? Mother Theresa? No? Huh…

You get the point, right? I mean, how hard is it to formulate written sentences without becoming the verbal equivalent of a gushing sea of lava? Do these people actually speak like this when in face-to-face conversations with others? I kind of doubt it or we’d be hearing more on the news about folks getting carted off to psych wards for observation. Because let’s face it, if you had someone in your face spewing out the kind of gibberish that passes for the average Facebook/Tweet/Tumblr update you’d be backing away slowly and scanning the area for deadly weapons, right?

So let’s break it down here. In my admittedly very non-scientific, limited observation, the worst offenders in the Hyperbole Olympics are women. Specifically young women. Now I get it, we women are traditionally given far wider boundaries of what is acceptable in terms of emotional expression. I know that this wrongful paradigm is slowly changing but it’s still pretty clear that women hold the corner on overwrought, flowery descriptions of…whatever. A fucking sandwich? The effects of daily activities on your energy level? Your fucking co-workers for fucks sake? What is it that they lack in their lives that makes these women so desperate for stimulation that they have to invent increasingly dramatic terms to describe mundane, daily events? Is anyone’s daily life that fucking dramatic? Shit, I hope not, because ladies I gotta tell you, that’s not even remotely sounding like fun. And who began the whole practice of having to have the BEST friends, the MOST WONDERFUL interactions, resulting in being INCREDIBLY LUCKY…or AMAZINGLY FORTUNATE…or RIDICULOUSLY GRATEFUL. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for expressive feelings of thankfulness for good luck, good friends and happy circumstances that people encounter in their daily lives. But honestly, how do you know that those friends are really THE BEST? Did you check with the other 85 posts on your wall alleging that THEIR friends are THE BEST? How can we decide who is telling the truth? How do we readers conduct a best-off? And is any luck or good fortune ever really incredible (adjective: so extraordinary as to seem impossible)? Are you really ridiculously grateful? Hell, that doesn’t even make sense.

So here I am, The ABIB, purveyor of a varied menu of bitch fests, asking you (and YOU know who the fuck you are) to have mercy on the rest of us that have to see your bullshit on a daily basis. Folks: words have meanings; specific meanings, meanings that are geared toward illumination, not fulfilling some random need for you to appear at your most Drahmahtic and Important and Better than every fucking one else. There are people actually reading the drek that passes for insight into your life, so cut us all a break and ease up off of the crazy talk and just speak English, please, correctly and accurately. Just think: if you do, then when something truly amazing happens to you, say, you scale Mt. Everest in a tee shirt and flip flops, you won’t have to convince us that it’s right up there with that Starbucks latte you got last week.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Recap, Episode Two: Do You Ever Use A Strap-On?

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?
CL: No.
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.