DanThat'sCool!

 

 

OhMyGod. I literally have the most fabulous son ever. Not even 2 years old and he can already stand up by himself in Louboutin heels.

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Last night I Dreamed a Dream that Anne Hathaway cut my bangs. Have you seen her hair?

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. No son of mine is ever going to have long hair, wear jewelry and women’s scarves. Can you imagine? Dying.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Andy. If you ever run into Brad, can you be sure to tell him to kiss my a**? Muah!

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. I literally want this entire conversation to be over. And an Oreo. I really want an Oreo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dude. This is F’d up.

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Yes, I suppose that “technically” he’s a boy, but have you seen the Fall 2013 Burberry collection?

 

 

 

Dying.

Literally.  Dying.

And out of practice.

Literally dying I’m so out of practice.

The Rachel Zoe Project finally worked the Season Five Runway this week and within the first two minutes it was clear that I really needed to brush up on my Zoe-isms.

Big Time.

Rachel & Co. have been off the radar for awhile and I forgot how totally Ba-na-nas this show can be once her 4th espresso mocha grandé kicks in.

Everything is big drama.  Everything is the End Of The World.  Everything is over the top.  Everything either makes you want to throw up in your mouth a little or is totally Maj.

Which is like Major, but way cooler.

Since we last saw Rachel, a lot has changed.  She is no longer just a stylist to the Stars.

Please.  That is soooo Season Four.  Now she is also a fashion editor, a couture clothing designer with an ever growing empire of equally dramatic office staff associates and a QVC accessory guru.

Because we all know that women can’t live on Quacker Factory alone, right?

Face it…sometimes your blinking LED Santa sweater just screams for a luxe faux fur scarf and adjustable strap hobo bag that you can buy without ever getting off that couch.

And while the rest of us can’t even hold down one job and still make it to Zumba class twice a week, Rachel somehow also manages to find time between Starbucks runs to be a Mom to Skyler Morrison Berman.

You remember him.  He’s the little Boy/Girl fashion spawn that Rachel gave birth to last season after putting us all through what seemed like 24 months of Super Pregnancy.

Well, he’s out now.  Out and Proud.  And werkin’ it like a true fashionista, all dolled up in an uncomfortably GenderBlender assortment of bloomers and Burberry coats that are guaranteed to get him at least one black eye on the playground if Nanny Rusty doesn’t get off her cell phone and pay attention.

Seriously.  I have no clue where Mom is finding some of Sky’s outfits.  Or those sparkly crystal surfer girl puka shell necklaces.  You know the clothes that never really belong in the Boys Department, and yet don’t really belong in the Girls Department either, so they always end up in that Babies ‘R Us back aisle with all of last season’s markdown toys and diaper wipes?

Yeah.  There you go Sky Sky.  Who’s my pretty Goy?

Goy.  See what I just did there?  I just turned Boy/Girl into one word.  And it’s trademarked now, so don’t even think it…

And don’t be asking Rodger for any support on the whole Skyler thing, because Daddy appears to be going through his own mid-life crisis as we speak.

Last season’s Bieber meets Muppets haircut is long gone and has been replaced with what one can only hope is some kind of transitional stage of growth.  I’m not sure what’s going on up there right now, but if you missed the episode just swing by any independent bookstore/cafe in SoHo and find that one stubbly waiter who still listens to his favorite songs on a turntable while he’s making jewelry out of old flatware and sea glass.

He’s got Rodger Hair, too.  Literally.

VP of Rachelopolis Inc., Mandana Dayani, is also back for another round this season.  She’s basically the black haired Taylor Jacobson, except that her hair doesn’t get in her face as much.  Rachel cleaned house over the last few seasons, so Tay Tay has been long gone.  Just like Brad Goreski and now Jeremiah Brent.

Everyone knows all the dirt on Tay and Brad’s less than cordial departures over the last few years, but nobody seems to know much about Jeremiah’s whereabouts in the Land of Zoe.  The poor Sad Sack with the amazingly thick hair was fired and rehired last year and looked to have a promising career with a potential Zoe Home line, despite his nervous tick and inability to blink.  But then that never happened.

I wouldn’t put it past Rachel to have enough pull in the biz to banish Jeremiah into some kind of Wardrobe Witness Protection Program, because nobody has heard much from the guy since we last saw him hyperventilating and putting together Skyler’s IKEA crib.

Which is kind of a bummer, because I really liked the guy.

Actually, the last time Jeremiah really did anything truly newsworthy was when he got caught making out with fellow interior designer Nate Berkus in the Barneys tie department.  Turns out that Jeremiah has been dating Nate and they certainly knew how to undo a double Windsor that December day in Barneys, though I’m not sure I’d want to kiss someone who probably tastes like Oprah‘s butt.

OhNoSheDin’t just go there.

Sorry, Nate.  I’m just jealz…no couple should have that much great hair power between them.  And with your tight pants and smiley face, I’m sure you could have done it without Ms. Winfrey.  You get a show!  You get a show!  You ALL get a show!    

But that was then.  This is now.

Mercedes Benz Fashion Week was fast approaching, and Rachel was prepping for her first ever Runway Show.  Which meant it was time to unleash the Drama Hounds.

Mandana and Collection Assistant Kelsey (…who seemed very nice but looked like she was cast on the wrong show…) were helping pull together outfits in the office.  It was the usual chaos that has ensued for the last four seasons.  Hundreds of shoes, racks and racks of sample sizes, thousands of empty Starbucks cups and Rodger doing his best to get in the way.

Sweetie.  Babe.  You know that thing where you don’t talk until you’re asked a question?

Oh, snap.  You tell him, Rachel.  Maybe you can even make some Chanel chandelier earrings out of his nibblies when you rip ‘em off with your bare hands.

To make things even more exciting this year, Mandana Banana had developed a double bleeding ulcer, courtesy of Rachel Zoe, Inc., which severely cut down on her dietary options.  It certainly didn’t cut down on her ability to Drama Queen any of her symptoms, but it did limit the amount of chocolate that she was allowed to digest as Rachel slapped her hand every time she picked up an M&M.

Even when Skyler waddled in and tried to put on high heels, Rachel caught Mandana trying to smuggle a Snickers.  That’s right.  She didn’t stop her son from slipping into some stilettos, but she did prevent her VP from a sugar crash.

It was gonna be a long day.

Since Rachel was juggling two hats (…Stylist & Designer….Der…) she had to keep abandoning ship to run over and catch random runway shows.  First up was Marchesa at Grand Central Terminal during rush hour, where RodgePodge, Mandana and Rachel all got lost and ended up at that new Apple Store.  They missed the fashion show, but at least they didn’t have to wait in line very long for the new iPad Mini.

The next morning, Rodger and his LadyMan Ritz Carleton Spa housecoat found a New York Post article that was not very complimentary of Rachel’s new line of clothing.

Oh, Zoe.  He wasn’t happy.

First, he apparently couldn’t find his hair brush.  And now Page Six.  Rachel died a little, and then they got dressed.

Next up was the Prabal Gurung show.  Say that ten times fast.

If you DVR’d this fashion mess and can only watch 30 seconds, fast forward the box to this point just so you can witness Rachel’s MAJ Bitch Diss of Brad Goreski backstage at Prabal.  The Majest of the Maj Disses.

Quit my company and talk smack about me, will you?  Wait till I run into you with Andy Cohen and then kiss him and walk by you and your flushed cheeks like you’re invisible.

OhMyGod. Dead to me.

It was a Moment.  And probably a moment that happened so quickly that most people didn’t even catch it.  But I have a gift, you know.  And I died a little myself.  After I spit out my Diet Coke all over my vintage Yves Saint Laurent smoking jacket, that is.

I’m officially going on record here and requesting that Brad make one random cameo stroll through each episode, kind of like a live action Where’s Waldo, just so we can see how many different ways Rachel can Bitch Out on his pink face.  It gave me life.

Then, for a brief second or two, we put down our Botox syringes and tried to inject a little testosterone into our face when Rodger met up with his Boyeez Neil and Daryl for some white wine.  Not exactly slamming brewskis at a Sports Bar, but Rodger’s scarf was probably against dress code, so you get what you get.

The spritzers must have gone right to their heads, because Neil and Daryl tried to convince Rodger that his son was actually…ummm…a Boy, maybe…and that he should try and save Sky from the Pink Side.  The three of them had a few giggles at Rachel’s expense as Rodger tried to justify her fantasy that Skyler was actually a gift from the French Embassy destined for frilly pantaloons.  Until his ankle GPS alarm went off, that is, and then Rachel tracked him down outside of the agreed upon office perimeter and the party was over.

With one day to go before the show, it was crunch time.

The white orchid floral backdrop wall that Rachel had visualized was not  working out too well so far, thanks to a pokey florist and budget constraints.  But it did give Mandana a chance to go so far over-the-top fab dramalicious that I think there might be an Emmy in her future.

I want this conversation be over.  More than anything in the World.  Even Beyoncé tickets.  OhMyGod.  Seriously.  It’s orchids.  How hard can it be?  OhMyGod.

And then Rachel got bangs.

I know, right?  Craziest.  Thing.  Ever.

I realize this has been a long one, so if you have to go…go now.  Because nothing really mattered after Rachel got bangs.  That’s all she talked about.  That’s all anyone talked about.  I think CNN even covered it.

Odile the Hairdresser, who reminded me of Cloris Leachman in Young Frankenstein, convinced Rachel to get bangs.  And I think the Earth momentarily shifted off its access.

OhMyGod.  She was going to Oscar de la Renta‘s show.  With bangs.  Just.  Stop it.

It took him awhile, but even Rodger finally noticed she got a two minute haircut.

Babe.  Do you like them?

I Love.  Because that’s how you say it in the Land of Zoe.  I Love.

Then she went to the Oscar de la Renta show, and told Oscar de la Renta that she just got bangs.  Oscar de la Renta Loved.

And Oscar de la Renta’s show had so many Anne Hathaway Moments that Rachel almost blacked out, which I guess meant that she either wanted to do a piss poor job at hosting an Awards Show or wanted to shave her head out back by the dumpster.

Ok.  Fine.  You got me.  I’m not really sure what an Anne Hathaway Moment actually is if we’re gonna sit here and nitpick the subject.  But there were a ton of them.

Finally, it was Runway Day!

Before the Zoe Show, Rachel and Rodger raced across town to see Michael Kors because she’s kind of fascinated by his dangly ear lobes and wanted to show off her bangs again.  No lie.  Michael Kors Loved.

They all hugged and air kissed it out, and then Michael sealed the deal by stating that he had “plugged her Twitter,” which sounded increasingly more creepy the longer I thought about it.  Nobody should be plugging anybody’s Twitter if they’re rocking that kind of Toddlers & Tiaras spray tan.  Thanks, but I’ll pass.

And then Rachel actually got to put on her own show if I’m not mistaken.  I know she was backstage showing everyone her new bangs, and they were all dying a little and putting on lipstick, but I can’t remember if anyone actually made it to the runway.

But they probably did.

And I’m sure it was Maj.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I’m need to go and have my own Anne Hathaway moment.

I hope my Catwoman onesie still fits.

Dying.

 

Lawd! Hide yo’ kids! Hide your wife! It’s The Attack of the Coochie Crack!

 

 

 

 

MmmHmm. I know you want to get all up on this, Gregg.

 

 

 

No, really! Stop! Stop! We’re so rich you’re gonna make me pee! I mean it!

 

 

 

Excuse me? I won freakin’ Ultimate Grand Supreme for my Outfit of Choice, Bitch. Back it up.

 

 

Gregg was right. I’d totally motorboat these Bad Boys for a pair of Louboutins.

 

 

 

It’s climbin’ in yo’ windows! And it’s snatchin’ yo’ people up! It’s a Coochie Crack Attack!

 

 

 

Oh. Hell. No. You fired me and kept this baby-making wig stand?

 

 

Honky if you love Donkey.

And while you’re at it, fix yo’ face and close your legs to married men.

Because The Real Housewives of Atlanta are back, bitch.

The history books warned us that the South shall rise again, and sho nuff…it’s time, because The NeNe Leakes Show returned this week with more attitude, sass and donkey booty than ever before.

To make room for some new badonkadonks, Shereè Whitfield is no longer with the company and we wish her well.  And don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Boo.

Or at least that’s how I imagined the inter-office memo that circulated in the lobby of the Season Four Reunion Show after it was announced that She by Shereè was She Sashaying Away due to alleged Über Diva behavior behind the cameras.

Shereè claimed that she left in an attempt to actually finish pouring the foundation on that money pit of a home construction site she always referred to in the Third Person, and to start selling other people’s stuff through an online KitsyLane.com website.

At least that was her take on the whole thing when a TMZ guy stalked her.  Everyone else just said she was a bitch.

But I’m not here to judge.  I always liked her, even though I can’t recall her doing one thing on the show of any noteworthiness after that night she tugged on Kim’s wig in front of Lindsay Lohan‘s media whore Dad.

I imagine it’s got to be tough keeping your Twitter followers based on one chick fight.

Shereè did try a comeback last season by telling NeNe to fix her teeth that one time, but that didn’t really keep me on the edge of my seat for twenty-something episodes.

So she’s gone.  And it’s sad to see Shereè go, but if the truth be told…not having to type that additional punctuation flourish over the last “e” over and over again doesn’t really break my heart.  I’ll probably get to bed a lot earlier now.

NeNe started it off this week, giving us all a glimpse into the new bandana phase she is apparently going to be going through this season whenever she has a bad hair day.

You know those baseball caps they sell at Spencer Gifts that come with the ponytails or mullets already attached?  The ones that Dbags always wear with Redneck teeth when it’s not even Halloween?

It was like that.

With horned up ex-husband Gregg sniffing around her junk at the kitchen table, NeNe gave us all a 2 minute promo for her sitcom The New Normal and an update on how rich and famous she has become.

Because she’s a big star now.  And she’s rich.  Very rich.

NeNe was contemplating a move to Los Angeles so she could fully realize her dreams of stardom, which would definitely throw a wrench into Gregg’s plan to get back into both the house and her pants.  Since divorcing over a laundry list of issues, the two have somehow already found themselves back in Friends With Benefits territory, but Gregg wanted his family back under one roof.  

And once Gregg picks up on a scent, it’s all over.

Unfortunately, after a quick flashback to how he had done her wrong, it was clear that Gregg would have to do a lot more groveling before he could get his garage door remote back.  Because there were loads of other men who wanted some NeNeNoogie.

Because she’s rich, you know.

Here’s a thought.  Maybe she could spend some of that cash on trimming up her bandana weave a little bit.  Or maybe she was trying to look like Janice from the Muppets.  Just saying.

While NeNe was hosing down Gregg in ice water, we went to lunch with Kandi Burruss and her new BF Todd.

With Kandi’s biological clock ticking and buzzing louder than one of her 12″ rubber nasties, she and Todd had decided to move in together and kinda sorta think about having a family…maybe.  They were ridiculously in love and it was nice to see after the rough year or two that she had gone through, and I was happy that she was in a position to pay cash for a new home.

That is, until later on when I saw the ginormous thing and then I was just pissed that anyone could withdraw that much dough on their ATM card after buying groceries.  I must be doing something wrong.

Kandi ordered the fish taco, which I really wanted to turn into an absolutely HIGH-sterical off color joke, but I won’t just in case any of the Dance Moms kids are scrolling down looking for their show.  Keep moving, kids.  Nothing to see here.

And speaking of kids.  Kim Zolciak-Biermann and her wigs were preggo again.

She and her dancing football husband were expecting their second child.  And Kroy was eating cereal.  Again.  Dude certainly likes his Sugar Smacks.

Or maybe they were trying to save some money, since they had just found out that they were being evicted from their leased mansion by their mean landlord and his crazy a** decorator wife Kendra Davis.

If you check your DVR’d Don’t Be Tardy For The Wedding you’ll see loads of dramz when Kendra decorated the whole joint and then Kim went and got married in the back yard and everyone was screaming and Kendra started a Twitter War and Kim’s Mom was carted off the property like a recaptured asylum escapee and blah to the blah to the blah.

Bottom line, Sweetie was back.  And that was all that mattered.  Cuz Sweetie don’t take no crap, and she always makes everything all better for Kim.  She’ll cut you.

And Kim had a new wig with bangs, that made her look like Taylor Swift‘s mother.

She also had a Moving Organizer (…second only to Life Coach on the WTF Scale…) who had tracked down someone willing to move and store all of Kim’s crap for a mere $101,000.  One-Oh-One plus three zeroes.

I know, right?  For that price they better lift the whole f***ing house with a Star Trek photon laser and beam it across town in one piece.  It was the first time I’d ever seen Kim actually consider something out of her price range.  Barely.  But out of her range.

That’s like two Birkin bags for crying out loud.

Then it was time to take the donkey to the vet.

Donkey Booty, that is.  Miss Phaedra Parks was in the hizzle.  The Animal Hizzle.

In an attempt at expanding her Entrepreneurial Funeral World Takeover, Phaedra was looking to back dat thang up into the lucrative animal burial biz, and decided to do a quick drive-by at the local animal hospital to leave her card and terrorize a few sick puppies wearing those cones so they don’t nibble on their nibblies.  Like they haven’t suffered enough.

A few scrunchy PhaedraFaces later, it was already over as the Vet nervously cut the whole thing short with an exasperated “I’ll show you out,” which was more polite than accusing Phaedra of being a NutJob with a big butt.

After a quick visit with Cynthia Bailey and her new husband Peter and her old husband Leon, where they all discussed the merits of home schooling a daughter who clearly just wanted to jump out the window and onto the yellow bus waiting outside, we got to meet Kenya.

Not the country.  The person.

Kenya Moore.  New Housewife #1.

She saved us the trouble of Googling her resume by rattling off everything from Producer to Gym Rat to Miss USA to Beating a Bitch Down before we even asked.  And she was friends with hair queen Miss Lawrence Washington, who met her for lunch in what almost looked like Boy clothes.

Lawrence.  In Boy clothes.  Except for the high gloss red nails, of course.  A girl’s gotta maintain the mani.  Der.

Kenya wants her man Walter to put a ring on it.  Stat. But that story’s a work in progress.  Stay tuned.

Before I could even digest the meal or all of Miss Lawrence’s Fierceness, Kim drove into the ‘hood to see Kandi’s new home.  Except it wasn’t the ‘hood.  And it wasn’t a new home.  It was two.

Shut the front door.  Both of them.

Then it was time to Gleek out.  OMG.

 

I never called you a stripper. I called you a bartender who took her clothes off for money! Get your story straight.

 

 

Youz all big MoMos. So just check out my wife’s jugs and then return my freakin’ Craftsman ratchet wrench set.

 

 

I knew I should have bought the contract with the Unlimited Texting Plan. It’s only the 15th and I’m already screwed.

 

 

No, I said come up here and scratch mine, you stupid bitch. That new nose is kinda hot.

 

 

 

In Touch Magazine only paid me for this many stories. How many is this again? Help me out, Juicy.

 

 

One morning after Richie’s big “alarm clock” went off, my eyeballs stuck like this. True Story.

 

 

Scratching.

Doing it.  Or telling somebody to go do it.  I’m not really sure.

But they say it’s a Jersey Thing.

And it must be, because there was certainly enough of it going down at The Borgata during the dysfunctional, not so family-friendly third and final installment of  The Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion this week.  It got nasty.

There were Wives trying to scratch each other’s eyes out.  There was Andy Cohen nervously scratching his head and giving us pretty much every googly AndyFace in his arsenal.  And even though they didn’t show it on camera, you know that at some point during the 12 hour Atlantic City taping Juicy Joe Giudice scratched his junk like a primitive ape a few times between belches.

Yup.  Third Time’s A Charm.

Andy picked up right where we left off in Part Two, with Joe still smirking on the couch next to his Fabuliciously delusional wife, Teresa.  Affectionately referred to by Joe as either Tre or the C-word (…dependent on the social situation, I’m going to assume…) Teresa was still trying to justify both why she sells stories to In Touch Magazine and why she was still married to that greasy gorilla.

After Andy offered up another flashback snippet of Yoda Manzo wisdom, he asked Caroline to clarify her seemingly psychic prediction that Teresa may one day find herself in divorce court.

Ok.  One…they should totally do that ’70s sitcom Dream Sequence thing where the screen gets all wobbly and blurry and then Time Machine music plays whenever Andy shows a clip from the past.  I would find that enjoyable.

Two…if by divorce court Caroline had meant the old network Divorce Court TV show, then I think it would be a pretty safe bet that Teresa would already be picking out camera-friendly outfits.  Girlfriend does love her closeups.

Joe doesn’t handle verbal confrontation very well.  We saw it all season.  And we saw it at the Reunion.

If he could punch everyone out, then he’d be fine.  But when he’s forced to sit in a fancy ballroom, getting head sweat in an uncomfortable leisure suit from Jersey Shore Portly, the best he could come up with were his go-to junior high playground bully lines.

Whadda ya gonna do?  Whatevah.  You’re fat.  Whatevah.  You’re a stupid doodie head.  Whatevah.  You’re a kaka face. Whatevah.  And then some (bleeped) out gems.

Whatevah.

The usual bully stuff.  And usually spoken while looking straight ahead.  Joe doesn’t like eye contact either.  Name calling…yes.  Eye contact…not so much.

After calling Caroline a Know It All, Joe and Teresa stumbled over their reasoning for talking to the media, claiming that they were apparently the only two cast members ever asked.  When everyone else jumped in and explained that they are all asked for gossipy articles but choose not to participate, Teresa shrugged and said it was their “opportunity not to do it,” which I don’t believe even makes any sense.  I’m thinking that she may have confused opportunity with prerogative since they sound so much alike.  Whatevah.

Andy wanted to get to the good stuff, so he asked Jabba what was up with his DMV legal battle.  The legal battle where Joe is accused of using either a fake ID, or someone else’s ID, to try and get a fake license since The Man had taken the old one which in a roundabout way then forced him to sell the pizza place where he had made his daughter cry during a cost-cutting birthday party with paper plates.  That one.

Yes.  That was a long, rambling sentence, thank you.  But I wanted to get it all in and pick up the pace here.  Hulu the pizza episode if you have no idea what I’m talking about.  Let’s keep this thing moving, people.

If convicted Juicy could face up to 10 years in jail.  Or “go away” for 10 years, as they like to call it in Jersey.

But he didn’t know what was going on with the legal battle.  Didn’t know where they stood.  Whatevah.  Just keep looking straight ahead.  Whatevah.  Then he claimed that it would be stupid to try and get a fake license.

When Jacqueline perked up and announced that Jabba had asked Chris about getting a fake license, Teresa had to jump on the pig pile and protect her man by screaming “OhMyGod! Heckel & Jyde!”

Now unless that’s a new act opening next month at The Borgata, or the two French designers who made her Christmas Tree gown, I’m pretty sure Teresa was speaking gibberish again.  She does like to make up new words.  I mean…Tre is already on the third phonetic version of her own last name, for crying out loud.

But that’s her opportunity, I guess.

Then the rest of the MoMo husbands all hopped up on their chairs and the MoMo party started.  Boyz were in da hizzle, bitches.

I’m not really sure what MoMos are in JerseySpeak, but since it came out of Juicy’s mouth I am fairly certain it wasn’t meant as  a compliment to any of the men.

After a quick Dream Sequence where all the men either swore, drank or whipped out their pixelated wieners, the Face-Off was on like Donkey Kong between Juicy and brother-in-law Joe Gorga.

Joe claimed that Juicy was jealous because of all his success.  Juicy said he wanted all his tools back.  Joe said he used to think they were like cousins, to which Teresa pig squealed that marrying cousins was gross.  (She totally missed the point on that one.)  Juicy was still missing some drill bits and wanted them back.

It wasn’t exactly Face The Nation, if you know what I mean.

Even Jacqueline took a break from all the drama to address a few split ends that had been bothering her since the Green Room.  No lie.  Check the tape.

To lighten the mood and give the viewing audience some bed spins after the show ended, Andy segued into Richie Wakile‘s boner (…can you even say that on a blog?…) and the long term trauma it may have caused their children.

It was difficult to tell if wife Kathy was surprised, embarrassed,  horrified or just healing from her face lift, because for the last three weeks her eyes have been rolled up towards her forehead and I don’t really know what’s going on there, to be honest.

She did manage to turn around and high five Hubby for tapping that thing every morning like an alarm clock.  Got that visual?

Now my eyes won’t roll back down, either.

Then it was back to some more mano a mano.  Juicy and Joe continued their screaming match, dragging everyone down with them into the Strippergate quicksand.  Juicy claimed that Chris had bragged about meeting Jacqueline when she was a stripper, then back tracked a bit when Chris explained the difference between pole dancing and setting up a trade show booth.

Teresa announced that Caroline had also told her that Jacqueline used to be a stripper, which woke Caroline up from what appeared to be a short nap.  And then the whole Melissa stripping thing came up again a few times, which made for a nice lead-in to a breaking news report that Joe used to strip for Chippendales.  Shut up.

I know, right?

Joe Gorga…not Joe Giudice.  Gross.

Then everyone screamed and (bleeped) some more about strippers, Juicy’s black eye, Richie’s junk and a Chippendales G-string shaped like an elephant nose.  It was a lot to process all at once.

As things spiraled out of control like the first Obama/Romney Debate, it became clear that Joe and Teresa were nowhere near a place where they could begin repairing their broken relationship.  Joe confronted Tre about calling Melissa a stripper and demanded that she own it.

Yeah.  Let me get right on that, bro.  As if.

Joe even dragged out the Big Guns and blurted out that their own father claimed Teresa had said it, with Jacqueline tag teaming him on the mat.  This was followed with all the usual “Prove it Bitch” threats that you would expect after a revelation involving parents.

If this whole Bravo TV thing doesn’t work out for Andy, I’m thinking he has a job waiting for him at The Borgata as a card table dealer, because Dude was shuffling through those blue cards so nervously I was afraid he might slit an artery as tempers escalated.

It was getting heated between Brother and Sister.

Teresa deflected all blame and hit low,  telling Joe he was breaking their parents’ hearts.  If you all remember anything from the Christening From Hell…you don’t diss the parents around Joe, so that got exactly the reaction she wanted.  Then somebody told somebody else to shut the f*** up, followed by Jacqueline telling Teresa to kiss her a**.

When Teresa shot back with kiss my t*****s, all I could picture was a face full of bronzer after motor boating those two bad boys, and it made the moment a little less dark.

And then, like any good reunion, Andy uttered the words that always make for one great final blow out before the closing credits:  “There is someone else…”

Kim D.

That’s right, bitches.  The other Posche Spice just showed up to break it all down for Andy and Co.

The woman responsible for the only annual fashion show in the world that always ends in a throw down slowly appeared from the shadows like that guy in the second X-Men movie.  Bamf!!  Out of the darkness.

…And into the hot seat to attempt a jumbled explanation on whether or not Melissa was set up by Teresa and that skeevy, bald strip club manager Angelo.

By this point, everyone knew that someone at the fashion show knew something was gonna go down.  They just didn’t know who knew what and when and what time it would all go down.

Kim made no secrets about her issues with Melissa and how Mrs. Gorga had promoted another business with the same name.  Which in the haute couture biz is apparently not cool.  Not cool at all.  So Kim D. was already out for blood by the time slickster Angelo arrived on her doorstep.  Or as Kim explained it…things just fall into her lap.

All I could picture were severed heads and ragged hair extensions dropping from the heavens.  She kind of scares me.  She plays with the Big Boys, you know.

Right about now the Teresa Witch Hunt went into overdrive.

The night of the show, Kim had told Caroline that Teresa knew something was gonna go down (…they used that phrase a lot in the last 5 minutes of the Reunion…) but she was rather vague on how much Teresa knew.  Jacqueline was just as vague regarding who she had been texting all evening, because it was allegedly someone Teresa knew.  But in a Court of Reality Law, vague holds up quite nicely with the jury and everyone came down hard on Teresa.  Guilty as charged.

Teresa called Jacqueline a calculating witch because she hadn’t called her anything since the last commercial break and felt Jacqueline was due another jab.  Kim wove a tangled story about Angelo and the salon and Teresa’s involvment, though she seemed more excited to meet Andy Cohen than to save Teresa’s sorry a** from any angry villagers.

Joe and Teresa hit one more dead end regarding whatever was left of their family.  Joe felt he had lost his parents.  Melissa was done.  Stick a fork in it.  Done.

As Part Three boiled over and finally simmered on the stove, it was clear that Teresa had some involvement in whatever went down.  And it was equally as clear that the Giudice/Gorga family was one big hot mess.

And it was kind of sad.  Train wreck sad.  That kind.

Andy gave the floor to Yoda Manzo for her final take on the televised destruction of two families, and Caroline jumped at the chance to go full on Maya Angelou.

If Maya Angelou was 1/16th Italian, that is.

Teresa had lost her voice.  As well as half her body glitter, which had smeared on Andy’s suit every time he raised his arm to protect his face over the last 12 hours.

Juicy just wanted to go out for a nice dinner because he could care less about all those people and their MoMo husbands.

His family was in ruins, and nobody wants to film with Teresa for Season Five.  But Caroline said that where there’s love, there’s hope.

Whatevah.

She can go scratch.

Giudice.  Out.