DanThat'sCool!

Finally.

The mystery is solved.

Did she?  Didn’t she?  And how did she get her earrings to match her mic cord?

Thanks to the crazies over at BadLipReading, the Beyoncé 2013 Presidential Inauguration lip synching scandal can finally be put to rest.

Bey Bey didn’t lip synch, people.

OhHellNo.  She don’t play dat.

She just sang the wrong song.

And I don’t think you’re ready for this La Fway.

 

 

Hell, yeah my family likes to eat. Pixie Stix are for pussies. Gimme some meat.

 

 

 

 

 

The Redneck Prophecy has been fulfilled. If you BBQ it, fry it or just leave it sitting around…they will come.

 

 

 

 

 

Now we know what happens to glitz pigs who don’t pull for a higher title.

 

 

 

 

 

Umm. Yeah. That’s what she said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then more ribs. But instead of forks, can we get more potato salad?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yabba Dabba Boo.

 

 

 

 

Seriously.

How can you not love this family?

We’re already seven episodes into Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, and if you’re still reading this mess I’m going to assume that you’re also in love with them or have way too much time on your hands.

Mama June, toothy Sugar Bear and the whole Boo Boo Clan have captivated the known universe and, like it or not, are here to stay.  They ain’t going anywhere, especially considering that Shugie works 7 days a week at that mystery chalk plantation and Alana has another pageant coming up soon.

Plus they all have way too much on their (dinner) plate right now, so to speak.

They’re here.  They eat deer.  Get used to it.

And all those haters out there who claim this show should come with some kind of warning?  Wrong.

This show should come with Wet-Naps.  The original moist towelette.

There was more food flying through the air and juice leaking out of stuff this week than an Iron Chef weekend marathon.  (“The Secret Ingredient is…..Road Kill!”)

Half way into the episode I literally had to mist my plasma with Windex just to cut down the grease before it congealed.

Them Boo Boos do like to eat.  Redneck Style.  They fully admit it, and this time around they proudly showed off all their culinary warrior skills like a Badge of Honor.

Honestly, it was almost an art form.  Or a food fight.  I couldn’t decide.  But it was one of those two, for sure.  Maybe even both.

But before the gravy train rolled into the backyard station (…I think I finally just figured out the cargo inside all those Amtrak box cars skimming the side of their house every hour…) everyone tried to maintain focus on Alana’s upcoming pageant needs.

After recently realizing that Honey Boo Boo had outgrown her previous pageant dress due in part to Costco cheese balls and genetics, it now seemed that she had also outgrown her little wiglet.  Bigger dresses and bigger heads meant bigger wigs, so the Boo Boos all headed down to Shh! It’s A Wig! to check out the inventory.

Say that name three times really fast and then you’ll discover the hilarity.

(What happens when someone digests too much hair?  Answer: _________!)

After you compose yourself, please do step inside the fine establishment for even more hilarity, because it was a sight to behold.

How, or why, a place like that even existed in Boo Boo Land is beyond me.

If Alana’s family is even a slightly accurate representation of Southern Wildlife, I have no idea what anyone would need with a joint like S***’s A Big Weave in their neighborhood.

Even though it’s a town or two over, I don’t think the Kuntry Stoe considers it big competition.  I’m also fairly certain that any place specializing in wigs that are plopped every which way but straight on styrofoam heads decorated with scented magic marker eyeballs is probably not going to be loaded into Beyoncé‘s GPS.  So I have no clue what was up widdat.

It was part salon, part wig store, part iParty and part RuPaul’s Drag U Lab.  And just getting there was apparently a lot of effort for the Shlep Sister Trio.

Still maintaining their constant state of lethargy, Chubbs, Chickadee and Pumpkin rubbed their eyes, scratched their stuff and sleep walked all the way into the building before crashing in a heap.

Pumpkin sat back and chewed whatever that thing is that’s always in her chompin’ mouth (…is it gum or wha–?…) while Chickadee held a water bottle up to her head like a stranded soldier in the Iraqi desert.  Being the only girl to ever experience pregnancy in the summer months was apparently taking its toll on her, as well as potentially setting her up for the Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Category.

But at least the two of them made it into a chair.  Chubbs was laid out on the floor like a bad mall Glamour Shot while everyone tried to work around, up and over her.

Wig Worker Claudia Marabel, who looked like she had accidentally gotten off that Amtrak at the wrong station on her way to VH1 and didn’t have a ticket back out, was a little horrified by the whole process.  Girlfriend was a awkwardly speechless here and there, and had that nervous sideways mouth thing going on that meant she was totally holding back a really big “Those Crackers Are Craaaay!” but was trying to play nice on television.

All the Boo Boos got in on the game and tried on every wig in the place.  June even worked it in a long, blonde hooker number that got Shugie so horned up he felt the need to let us all know that he was thinking about jumping some bones right there on the floor next to the Chubb rug.

It must have been Role Play night back home, because Sugar Bear either left the place wearing a scruffy mullet wig or they somehow made friends inside with one of the motorcycle lesbians from the front of the Pride Parade.  But I think it was Shugie.  And he looked gosh darn happy to be alive.

Turned out Sugar Bear wasn’t the only thing overheating this week.  The Georgia temperatures were also hitting record high levels, and that was making for some very uncomfortable family members.

June explained that her voluptuousness was not enjoying the current heat wave and by the time she finished completely and descriptively explaining why, I almost gave myself hysterical blindness.

There were only a few weeks left before school and pageant season, so the family really wanted to spend as much time together as possible, but having your naughty bits stick to vinyl beach chairs probably wasn’t what anyone had in mind.

Thankfully, Sugar Bear came to the rescue and brought home one of those big wobbly above ground plastic pools that come all crammed up inside a cardboard box.  Everyone was excited until they realized that they would have to help participate in the actual assembly process.  Just the thought sent June into the shade to restick her naughty bits while the Shlep Sisters grabbed some pvc piping and worked on their acceptance speeches.

Drama, I tell you.  Hot.  Drama.

Part of what makes this show real and, dare I say it, slightly charming at times is the fact that little Alana is still just little Alana.  Her mega celebrity status hasn’t fully registered yet, so at the heart of it all she is still just a kid.  Granted, a kid who does pageants and eats food that the police find on the side of the road.  But still a kid.

A kid who likes to play and get sassy and splash around her new pool like it’s Shark Week.

Hope she had fun, because they all broke the freakin’ water hose seal within the first two hours.  The thing is probably flat and empty by the time you get around to reading this.

Watching Sugar Bear put together the pool really worked up everyone’s appetite, so next they all headed to the local BBQ shack for some ribs.  And some chicken.  And some potatoes.  And some more ribs.

Basically, anything that the kitchen had on the grill came out to the table, conveyor belt style.  Here’s my credit card.  When it’s maxxed out, dinner’s over.

To make the ordering process easier, they pretty much just ordered everything on the menu in no particular sequence.  Gah.  Love them.

The waitresses then dumped the snacks and ran in much the same way you might dump chum into the water when you’re trying to catch a Great White.  You dangle the bait, but you want to be careful you don’t lose a finger.  Because it happens.

I’d love to see a statistical breakdown of how much food actually makes it into their mouths when the Boo Boos eat, because there was a whole lot of face paint at that table.

I would also have liked to have seen one of those CNN tickers running across the bottom of my screen with the quantity and calorie stats rolling out in real time.  That would have been a hoot.

Just like when she was in the wobbly pool, little Alana was just little Alana again and spent the entire evening face down in her plate.  She made potato salad sandwiches and gnawed on ribs like she had just gotten out of prison while everyone grabbed every scrap they could find off each other’s plate when no one was looking.

Some of the dishes coming from the kitchen were piled so high they were gravity defying.  The Boo Boos definitely got their money’s worth, even without any of June’s coupons.

There was even a brief table discussion on why June wouldn’t marry Father Figure Shugie and just make all this dysfunction legit, but it was short lived as Pumpkin and Chubbs decided to unleash their rib-filled tummy rumbles and began tooting on each other.  For realz.

Pthffffft.

Remind me to skip that joint on my Rib Tour 2012.

Back home, after experiencing Pumpkin and Chubbs gastric plumbing, we got to experience the lack thereof in the Boo Boo home.

Who knew that the kitchen sink drained directly into a big plastic pail?  A pail that they have to drudge out the back door every time it gets full.

No pipes = no clogs, I guess, considering that all the woman folk wash their hair in the same spot where they clean and tenderize raw meat.  Personally, I might have held off on the pool until i capped off that gaping hole in the bottom of my sink, but that’s just me.

Or maybe even skipped the weekly 87 rolls of Brawny just once and swung by Home Depot for an elbow joint instead.  But again…

Now that everyone’s hair was squeaky clean and you could see clear down into the bottom of the pail, it was time to go back to Crazy Tony‘s and do some more mud boggin’ and 4 wheelin’.

And shopping.  At the Redneck Department Store.  At the Wilkinson County Dump Mall.

Yeah.  Dumpster Diving, baby.  Hold my feet, I’m going in.

I guess it’s the place to be…and be seen…around town.

All I know is that seeing one of the Shlep Sisters rolled up in a dirty mattress that Tony found in the dumpster kind of skeeved me out.

I mean, who’s gonna want that thing now that it’s covered with cheese ball dust?  What a waste of a perfectly good Sealy.

Mama found a Rowenta iron that they brought home to…I dunno…iron with…even though I’ve never seen any of them wear anything besides cotton t-shirts.

It must be for Alana’s new dress.  Or making waffles.

Finally, it was time to celebrate the Fourth of July like a true Redneck.  Down at the Lake, frying both your skin and your lunch until it’s crispy.

After a little beach time where Mama got to model her Redneck Air Conditioner (…a wet towel wrapped around her head like a fortune teller…) and Shugie got to sit there sweating in his denims jeans (…so as not to risk his pasty white legs causing a Single Ladies flash mob…) everyone got to enjoy the evening’s celebrations.

For the third time this week, little Alana got to be little Alana and showed us all the wonderment of a child watching fireworks with food on their face.

She Oooo’d (…the good kind…not the pig poo kind…) and Aaaahh’d at all the colors and sounds and proclaimed it was the best day ever!!

It was awesome, Mama.

Pthffffft.

 

 

Seriously. That is (bleeped) up. So (bleepin’ bleeped) up, Dude. (Bleep.)

 

 

 

 

 

To think I would go against my Dad is (bleeped) up. I can’t even wire the (bleepin’) DVR.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t be Tardy for the (bleepin’) Party. Wha-? Wrong show? Seriously? (Bleep.)

 

 

 

 

 

(Bleep) off. Period.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a lot of (bleepin’) work for a spin-off. Seriously.

 

 

 

(Bleep.)

Nothing like somebody turning against their family and getting wired by the Feds to blow the dial right off the Cuss-o-Meter.

This week the Mob Wives were still feeling the after effects from Juniorgate 2012, and it wasn’t pretty.

As a recap for anyone without access to the internet, television, radio, the outside world or a CVS magazine rack, Junior Pagan recently got himself wired up like a home surround sound system and went all Federal Snitch against the Staten Island Mob.

In doing so, Junior managed to record enough static-free background noise to not only incriminate Renee’s own father, Anthony “TG” Graziano, but also blow apart his own family and guarantee that at least three VH1 executives all wet their pants as they giggled and high fived each other at the perfect ratings sweep timing of the arrest.

The fallout from the news had turned Staten Island into a (bleepin’) rumor mill, and whoever “they” are…well, they were all talking about it.

We picked right up where we left off last time, as my Restylane Reality Crush Big Ang flipped through the newspaper at that little boutique her sister either runs or works at or owns.

Big Ang was still stylin’ in her Jackie O Goes To The Jungle look as she pawed through the pages with those shiny black polyurethane Super Heroine gloves.

Do you think maybe she has a secret identity?  How cool would that be?

Perhaps her newly announced spin-off show is going to be an action/adventure kind of thing where she battles crime like Batman?

Maybe you pull one of those stuffed monkey tails behind her Drunken Monkey bar and the back wall actually opens up and she has a gigantic Big Ang Cave down in the basement?

How much would you pay to see her slide down a Big Ang Pole?  You know there is a seriously padded landing platform at the bottom of that ride.

But I digress.

As Big Ang tried to comprehend what the (bleep) just happened with Junior and Renee, we were treated to a little Junior video montage that is destined to be a viral youtube dance hit by the end of the week.

Trust me, if I had a clue how to open GarageBand I would be laying down tracks right now and you guys would have to settle for your own DVR instead of my wit, but I skipped that Genius Bar appointment so you’re in luck.

After the RatSnitch ReMix, we listened in on Karen’s phone conversation with her mom, Debbie.

Karen’s snitch-uation as I like to call it now, is similar to Renee’s…and yet somehow different.

When Karen’s dad, Sammy “The Bull” Gravano, flipped and cooperated with the Feds way back when, he at least had the common Mob courtesy to call a meeting in the Big House and let everyone know what was about to go down.

Let’s be real.

I barely know wedding present etiquette, much less gangstah graciousness, so trust me…I am not the authority on how to properly turn Federal Snitch.  But I guess getting everyone together and dropping that bomb is better than a quick scribble on some 5th grade report paper like Renee found when she finally stopped hitting the snooze alarm that fateful morning.

Speaking of Renee…Drita dropped by to check up on her and let her know that despite all their previous disagreements she is still loyal to her old friend Renee.

This was the first time that the two of them have had a chance to really sit down and diss about Junior, and it was total junior high gossip festivus.

He did what?  When?  Shut up.  No, you shut up.  He did.  When?  Shut up.  Renee, that is messed up.  Shut up.  And then lots of crying.  You shut up.  No, you shut up Infinity.  Am I living a lie?  Was I living a lie?  Shut up.

That’s pretty much how it went down.  I just took out all the cussing and made it more family friendly in case this ends up as a bedtime story for you West Coasters.

Then it time for RatSnitch ReMix Part 2.

Karen was recording the audio version of her new book, and was behind the mic at the studio to lay down some vocals, as they say in the biz.

Thanks to iPods and all that high tech gadgetry, audio books are a big deal nowadays and Karen was releasing the talkie version of Mob Daughter to coincide with the hardcover launch.

The way she explained it was that now when the Wise Guys are running from gunfire they can catch up on Gravano family history without the annoyance of having to hold the actual book.  And on the other end of the spectrum, Rat Snitches can easily stick one wire down their shirt and another one in their ear, thereby  killing two birds with one stone.  It’s well documented that Snitches like to stay current with New York Times bestsellers just like the rest of us do.

Spoiler Alert: Pretending to be listening to audio books is also one of the best ways to score information for the DEA.

Or I might have just made up those last couple paragraphs in my head.  The important thing is that Reading Is FUNdamental.  Stay in school, kids.

This is also probably a good place to mention how much I love me some Mob Wives.  Just to be safe.  Because I do.  I love me some Mob Wives.

As Karen read through various chapters, we were treated to yet another soon-to-be youtube dance classic, this time complete with those funky digital sound board lights.

If some 9 year old geek wad is not already auto tuning Chapter 11, I’m going to lose faith in the youth of today.

Seriously.  I had to move my coffee table and roll up the carpet when they busted out Karen’s mix.

I’m Gravano and I know it.

Then it was time to put the gloves on and hurt somebody.

Drita had her final boxing workout with Personal “We’re going hahhhhd kore” Trainer Anthony, before heading to the gym to spar with an actual human being.  As part of her born again focus on anger management, Drita hoped to unleash all her Mean Girl aggression on some boxing pads instead of Ramona’s face, and wanted to make certain that her inner Incredible Hulk wouldn’t surface during an upcoming match that Anthony had found for her.

Yeah.  Drita was going to do a boxing match.  With rules.

Between the last minute training in her backyard, and then losing control with the poor little Oriental guy who drew the short straw for her practice match, Drita realized that she should probably pull out of the event.

The biggest concerns about participating in the match were her kids, and the sudden realization that she might actually get hit in the face.

That, and the fact that Drita also fights like those high school girls with the blurred out faces you always see kicking a tiny kid for lunch money on the FOX5 News.

So it was best to just walk away with some dignity and all her teeth.  The Jack-o-Lantern look is cute on Dance Moms and Toddlers & Tiaras, but not so much when you’re modeling hoochie bikinis wearing a flipper.

I love me some Drita, too.  But she can have my lunch money.  All of it.  I’ll even mail it to her house.  I’m not messing with that one.  Ever.  Just tell me where to send it.  And don’t hurt me.  I bruise easily, being so delicate and all.  And I would totally cry.

Later, Big Ang got her Cher on and dropped by Renee’s house.  Carla better watch out, because Big Ang could steal the Cher look-a-like crown right off her head.

Granted, Big Ang’s Cher was a little less Bob Mackie and a little more Pride Parade, but still.  With her big Flintstone furry vest, dangly earrings and massive Cher hair, Big Ang could have passed for Sonny’s ex.  Or maybe Sonny when he used to dress up as Cher.

Remember that show?  When Chaz was Chazette?  I Got You Babe.  Good times.

But, again, I digress.

Soon as Big Ang left, Karen dropped by to help Renee pack up all of Junior’s stuff, in a cleansing/moving on with my life kind of ceremony.

It was also a pretty nice advertisement for the UPS Store.  When your Man goes Federal Informant, Brown has all the supplies you need to get his s*** outta the house.

And he had a lot of s***, considering that he just moved back in three months ago.

I’ll give Renee props.  She neatly folded everything and sealed it up like Junior was going off to Afghanistan.

If someone had boned me the way he boned her, that s*** would be flying out the bedroom window like it was Mardi Gras beads.  You go, girl.  Proud of you.

Now set it on fire in the backyard.

After two seasons, you know by now that nothing gets Staten Island people more excited than unsubstantiated gossip.  And Junior’s saga was Gold.

As Drita, Carla and Big Ang treated themselves to a little Day Spa action, Renee and Junior were again the topic.  Carla is losing her patience with Renee and all her drama, and there were conflicting reports from “the streets” as to whether Renee may have been in on the whole Junior being wired to spy thing.

I don’t know where these “streets” are that everyone in Staten Island always goes to for gossip, but I need to find them, asap.  I just imagine a Land where everyone eats calzones and talks snarky smack talk until their heads explode.

I want to live there.

Carla felt that if the stilettos were on the other foot, Renee would have a completely different attitude about a whole bunch of things.

Over the years, Renee has sworn that nothing is lower than a Rat.  But now that the infestation is in her own basement…hmmmphhh.

Carla thought Renee was a bipolar puppet.  Drita thought that red nail polish looked the best on her own nails.  Big Ang thought she was a little overdressed for such a warm salon.  That’s about all we got out of that.

We finished off the episode with Renee and son AJ awkwardly discussing their situation, and a warm and fuzzy HomeGoods Christmas.

For real.

You know when you go to HomeGoods…or TJ Maxx…or Marshall’s…or whatever it’s called in your ‘hood…during the holidays, and all the country snowmen are piled on the tables right by the front door?  All the snowmen that look like scarecrows in plaid vests?  They’re always next to those wreaths that never fully fluff up when you take them out of the box?  Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  You’re not that fancy.

Welcome to Carla’s house.

Newly released Joe dropped by to help finish up with the holiday traditions, which basically consisted of putting one last giant life-size snowman together and skeezing an invite to spend Christmas Eve on the couch.  Like I’ve said before, he does love those kids and they get all googly when he comes around, so when his son asked if Daddy could stay over…well, you know.

Joe’s dimples can pretty much score him anything that he sets his mind to, almost as if they have super powers.

Hmmm.  Do you think he is Big Ang’s sidekick in her new show?

After futzing with the snowman and attaching the head (…which was big enough to wear if you wanted to hold up a bank…just saying…) it was a HomeGoods holiday moment.

God bless us, everyone.

Except for Rat Snitches.

They (bleepin’) suck (bleeps.)