Mob Wives: Whoa. Tasting The Wine, Prepping The Wedding And Climbing The Walls. The Wives Are Winging It.
Sorry, Doc. I don’t really remember the accident, but when I came to my air bags were a little sore.
OMG. They’re like totally adorbz! Like little prison cell bars made out of candy!
True. Your head almost went through the windshield. But your equilibrium is off because those things are freakin’ out to here, honey.
Looks like you’re in luck, ma’am. These white orchids are in season, and this vase is bullet-proof.
Let the Bitch try and come after me. Have you seen her run? Those things are freakin’ out to heah.
It’s obvious, girls. The chambermaid did it. In the library. With a wine glass.
Ladies and Gentlemen…hide your buttah knives.
Carla Facciolo is back in the building.
That’s right. After being noticeably MIA during last week’s episode, Love Majewski‘s arch nemesis has returned. And just in time.
Word on the street was that Carla had been too busy talking s*** about Love to show up for any restaurant tapings lately. But, of course, that is just alleged hearsay based on a random sampling of Love’s friends from each of the five Boroughs.
Carla says No. Love says Yes. Over. And. Over.
And you know what everyone else says. Gossip is all fun and games until someone loses a big, dangly earring.
Love’s short Stab-A-Lover temper is the thing of legends. Known to bring more than one grown man to tears, it is something that would normally only manifest itself in someone who was dropped on their head as a baby.
Or in Love’s case, hit by an 18 wheeler in their adult life.
As we tuned into MobBiz This Week, we found out that at some point in the past Love had suffered a traumatic head injury as a result of a freak automobile accident and that the injury may now be partially to blame for her noticeably short fuse.
Turns out that when her car was hit, she somehow flew out the window to safety, only to be hit a second time by a passing transport vehicle and its trailer full of whatever.
Wait. What? If this was a Warner Bros. cartoon, couldn’t you just picture Love being flattened like a piece of paper and becoming the inspiration for the invention of the Naked Mud Flap Girl? You know…the one that you always see on the back of Costco trucks when they blow past you in a snowstorm and cover your windshield with two inches of brown slush on the one day you forget to refill the washer fluid.
But this is real life. Sorta. So instead of being pressed topless into vinyl like Silly Putty on the Sunday comics (…Google it, kids…) Love now suffers from some form of Post Traumatic Face On The Windshield or something. I forget exactly what they called it.
And according to Dr. Igor Stiler, the physician she checked in with at the start of the episode, it could be a key piece of the puzzle as to why she is so irritable and short tempered.
Irritable and short tempered to the point where sometimes she doesn’t even know how she ends up back home in her own bed after a night of clubbing, wearing only one stiletto and clutching a fist full of bad Staten Island weave.
As Love relived a few violent blackout episodes where she came to just in time to find herself holding some poor drunk chick’s head in a toilet bowl, Dr. Igor scribbled what I believe were the words Help Me on his notepad and nervously adjusted his Kris Kringle eyeglasses. And you wonder why he kept his door open the entire time.
Less traumatizing were the Arizona goodbye hugs as Karen and Ramona got ready to head back East.
Karen and Karina and Baby Daddy Dave had found some middle ground on the whole long distance parenting thang, though Karen still hoped to bring Karina back to SI at some point. But for now, things were running a little smoother, though she had yet to figure out if Dave’s new girlfriend Rebecca was a cyborg or not.
Rebecca seemed nice enough, even though Karen had never actually seen the woman blink during a conversation. But it was time to leave Sweet Home Arizona, so the Mystery of the BeccaBot would have to wait for another day.
There was a lot of Love Said/Carla Said action going on this week. The first round was when Drita dropped by Carla’s place to rehash the gossip again and it was revealed that Carla had never actually met this Love person.
Carla knew ‘of her’ from the one month that Carla’s old boyfriend had been bangin’ her before he started bangin’ Carla. But that was it.
Sloppy Seconds was their only connection.
Yeah. The whole discussion was pretty much Klassy Like Dat.
Carla felt that Love was jealous of her, just like every other woman on Staten Island.
I know I was totally jealz of all those HomeGoods snowmen Santas that Carla had cluttering up every corner of the house. Holy Seasonal Hoarder Fire Trap, Batman.
And then there was Jiton. Girl, pleez.
Half Sicilian. Half Black. One Third Basketball Wives. Two Thirds classic hip hop Vjay from back in the day. And 100% sassy with no frizz or fly aways.
Renee‘s friend basically just fell right off one of the archive photos in the VH1 lobby and started running her own shoe store. And now Renee wanted in on the action.
In the past they had tossed around ideas about creating a Graziano shoe line, but at the time Renee was in her Hot Mess Phase and footwear had to go on the back burner while she focused on sedatives and meltdowns. But now that we’re talking the new and improved Renee 2.0, it was time to finally get MobCandy shoes up and running.
Jiton knew people who knew people, and was going to help Renee get started in the shoe biz. Cuz there’s no business like shoe business, right?
Yeah…old joke. But you still read it in Ethel Merman‘s voice, didn’t you? Suckahs.
And speaking of putting on a shoe…or a show…
Ramona and her two little Ramonettes headed over to the Coral House Banquet Facility to start planning a potentially shotgun wedding.
Regardless of how everyone else on the East Coast felt about them moving forward with their nuptials, Ramona was determined to marry her incarcerated fiancé “Joe Boy” Sclafani. Even if he can’t get that 7 day release from prison.
It’s not like the groom really has to show up, right?
Ramona and Joe Boy are clearly juggling a lot of What Ifs with this one, and nobody really knows how it will all play out by the summer. If Joe Boy even gets approved for a release, it will only be with a 48 hour notice, which doesn’t really give anybody much time to thaw out the appetizers or make party favors, much less shine up your ankle monitor and press a tux.
Add to that a court ordered pair of armed guards and all those petty house arrest regulations, and it clearly doesn’t make for your typically faaaabulous David Tutera wedding extravaganza.
But Butch The Wedding Impresario (…no lie…his name…) ain’t no David Tutera.
He specializes in this kind of stuff. Weddings and Security. Don’t ask. Just pick out your flowers and your place settings and nobody gets hurt.
It was like that. And they did. Even down to what color tablecloth was going under the lace overlay. Blue. Joe’s favorite color. Just in case he actually shows up.
All that excitement called for some pizza, so Karen headed to her cousin Rena‘s joint for some pepperoni and cheese. And our weekly Mob Wives Head Scratch Moment.
Two of them actually, if you want to count the fact that Tony’s Pizza still takes Discover. Is that card still around or was that just an old sticker on the counter? I can honestly say that I don’t know one person with a Discover card in their wallet.
Karen and Rena are pretty tight. Which is oddly impressive considering that it was Rena’s Dad and Peter Gotti who travelled to Arizona all those years ago to try and kill Karen’s Dad Sammy “The Bull” Gravano.
You heard me. Kill him. Like with guns and exploding stuff.
And you thought your family was F***d up during the Holidays.
The whole killing your own family thing was a little out of my comfort zone, but Karen and Rena didn’t seem to have any problems getting past it. They actually seemed a little more concerned about which topping was their favorite after all these years.
Anytime you feel like scratching your head is fine by me. Whenever they cross that line into being irritated because someone got caught doing something ridiculously illegal and/or criminal and yet somehow the Feds are the Bad Guys, I just wait for the moment to pass. Or for the judicial system to make crime legal and set all the Wise Guys free at once like when everyone escapes from Arkham Asylum in the Batman video game.
I just can’t.
I did like the cartoony tee shirts all the pizza guys were wearing, if that counts for anything after all that awkwardness.
Then all the Wives really started winging it. As in Angel Wings. Or AngelWingate, as CNN will soon refer to it on their screen crawls.
Carla was first. She dropped by ex-Joe‘s Dad’s Day Spa for a quick buff. The place was called Angel Skin. Remember that for later.
Joe’s Dad used to be a highly respected Gyno kind of guy who actually saw Drita‘s junk when he delivered her two babies, so when he retired from all those lady parts he decided it would be nice to tighten everyone up above the neck for a change.
So Dad opened up his own Day Spa.
That’s about all that really mattered in that scene. Hope you paid attention and noticed the upside down Angel Wings on the store window, because there’ll be a test at the end.
Next up, it was Drita and Love’s turn to wing it.
They barely had time to sit down at a nail salon before Love started in on some more Carla bashing, letting Drita know that Carla had somehow stolen the wings from Love’s wrist tattoo and given them to Joe’s Dad for his spa windows. Bitch.
See how it’s all coming together? The Circle of Life.
Turns out that Love had personally designed her tattoo, so it was clear that Carla had stolen the wings, right? Because they looked exactly the same, and they were clearly right up there on the spa window and business cards. Even though Carla was already on record as saying that she had never met Love, much less snooped around her wrists trying to steal an apparently copyrighted doodle.
Plus I’m pretty sure that Victoria’s Secret and the Bible were using angel wings long before Love even thought about hitting up a tattoo parlor. But whatev.
But Love swore that Carla stole her wings. And Love’s still got a serious case of windshield head, so I’m not messing with her right now.
And then randomly, Renee and AJ went rock wall climbing. That’s really all I have to say on the matter, except for mentioning that Renee kind of looked like a backwards 1960’s Batman when she was trying to walk down the wall on a rope.
Three Batman references in one blog post. A new record. Now I’m done.
Renee had to hurry and get down off that thing so she could go meet Jiton again and check out the progress on MobCandy.
Who knew that Elton John and Liberace were Jiton’s shoe designers?
Just. Whoa. Sparkles and stilts and feathers and crystals and chandelier dingles and something on the toes that looked like you stuck the front of your shoe in a container of 14K gold Ben & Jerry ice cream jimmies.
The screw-on/screw-off spike heel was a nice touch, too. Just in case you lose your ice pick and need to make someone pay back a racing bet.
Gah. I love me some Mob Wives.
The only way to finish off the evening was with some wine. Wines by Wives, actually. A holiday wine tasting event with a logo that looked exactly like a TV Guide ad for the old That Girl show.
And what are the chances that Carla would join the one wine club that hosts all their events at the mansion pictured on the box cover of the Clue board game?
Seriously. Did you see that place? I was waiting for some hysterical maid to run in at any moment, screaming that someone had just found Colonel Mustard’s dead body in the conservatory. And a wrench was missing from the tool shed.
As Big Ang and Drita got tastefully liquored up, the whole AngelWingate controversy broke and Carla flipped a major nutty. And swore. A lot.
Carla wasn’t scared of Love. Bring it on. You come for me? I’ll come for you.
And a Mob Wives holiday classic was born.
Every time Carla swears, a Day Spa gets its wings.
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