DanThat'sCool!

 

 

My cosmetics line just launched Black Eye Blue and Fat Lip Fuschia, and I’m thinking of giving that bitch Ramona some free samples.

 

 

 

Yeah, it was a thong. But at least dat means she wears underwear. So dat’s kinda good, rite?

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. But at least he works out.

 

 

 

 

Now I just got two more gigantic plastic ones to shove into the tree and then we’re good to go.

 

 

 

All I want for Christmas is a dog that will sever the artery in my neck while I’m ordering pizza for the girls.

 

 

 

Trust me, honey. You ain’t the first one to get on all fours and lick their junk when I’m around. True dat.

 

 

 

I mean…c’mon. Look at these chew toys. They’re like Staten Island-sized Snausages for really naughty Big Dawgs.

 

 

 

It was almost a Christmas Miracle, I tell you.

Like Barbie had somehow just landed on Sesame Street.

If Sesame Street was Benton Avenue and Barbie had just pulled a butter knife shiv out of the glove compartment of her convertible and cut a bitch, I mean.

This week’s episode of Mob Wives was brought to you by the Color Pink.

And the Letters F and U.

I swear.

And I know that for a fact because there was a lot of both being thrown hard and straight in our faces from start to finish this time around, in a festive pre-Christmas hour that began with a party and ended with a S.W.A.T. team fly over.

Just like any other Holiday Season on Staten Island, right?

It’s looking like Mob Wives might finally be getting their Mob Mojo back.  But Mojo…Mob or otherwise…ain’t cheap, which would explain the need for subliminal ad product placement.   And unless I’m mistaken, somebody clearly hooked them all up with that new L’Oreal Ombré hair coloring comb they sell at Duane Reade, because half the cast was totally rockin’ the latest on-trend dark to light look in every confessional shot.  Werk.

The whole thing started out at Big Ang‘s Ultra-Pink Christmas party.  Pink walls.  Pink dinnerware.  Pink table linens.  Pink wrapping paper.  And a Pink  Christmas Tree so vibrantly Pink that if you paused your DVR it would sting so bad you’d get Pink Eye.

It was like one of those Real Housewives of Beverly Hills White Parties they have every year.  Except Kim Richards wasn’t locked in the bathroom.  And it was Pink.

With just enough Jerseylicious Zebra print, of course, so as not to confuse the whole extravaganza with the little girl toy aisle at Target.  Cuz dat’s how they do on the Island.

Honestly, the only way I could differentiate between the actual artificial tree and Big Ang, all styled up in a well thought out coordinating outfit, was the size of her own ornaments as they overflowed that Pink blouse.  Love.  Her.  Especially during the holidays.

Every time Big Ang tokes on a smoke, an Angel gets their wings.

Drita, Karen and Ramona all made it to the party on time and got right to dissing about anyone not currently in the room.  Though Drita and Ramona had recently signed a peace treaty and were doing their best to uphold the terms of the agreement, their relationship was still a little awkward and it was clear that they’ll never be texting “BFF” on their brass knuckle iPhones.

Renee had chosen to skip the party to avoid any potential Carla drama, while Luscious Love Majewski had come down with Bronchitis and was also a no-show.

Bronchitis?  F’real?  Ain’t nobody got time for that.

(Seriously.  That joke will never get old.  How much do you love Sweet Brown?)

When Carla finally strolled in the door (…anyone else notice that the sun had completely gone down by the time she pulled up to the curb? Buy a watch, honey.  Lobster ain’t cheap…) it was immediately a little tense on the other side of the table.  Karen and Ramona were not big Carla fans at the moment, ever since that whole unfortunate ButterKnifeGate controversy had gone down at Big Ang’s last luncheon.

But enough with the cold shoulder.  Karen broke the ice and made certain that Carla knew Renee wasn’t at the Christmas party because of the way she had been treated at their previous get together, when Carla had played the Junky Card and swung that aforementioned butter knife all around the room like the Macy’s Parade baton girl.

Carla managed to spin the whole thing all backasswards in her head and somehow ended up proclaiming that she may have shown just the Tough Love that Renee needed, and…why yes, thank you…she probably was responsible for driving her into rehab.  So where’s the gold star?

Are you kidding me?  Karen and Ramona got all WTF?, grabbed some snacks to go, and hit the road to pack for their trip to Arizona.  Enough already.  Bitch is cray.

The food looked amazeballs, but once again Big Ang threw a party that tanked.

The next morning, Karen and Ramona headed to beautiful, hot but not humid Arizona to confront ex-boyfriend David Seabrook.  There had been a lot of unanswered questions lately surrounding Dave and his new girlfriend Rebecca, not the least of which was what the (bleep) was one of her nasty a** thongs doing in little Karina‘s bedroom?

Do NOT even tell me that you were living in the house, rent-free, and shagging yo’ girl when you were supposed to be feeding the dog?

Oooh, Child.  Karen smelled blood in the water.  And Ramona loves that shizzle, as she egged her on during the entire limo ride to the house.

When they finally arrived at Karen’s AZ home, it was like one of those quaint suburban houses where the family had been sucked into the TV set or through the back wall of the bedroom closet, leaving only a stray dog to wander around the kitchen and wonder what happened to his owners.

The place was empty.  No Dave.  No Dave’s clothes.  No Dave’s Playstation 3.  Not even a nasty a** thong hanging on the microwave handle.

Only Ozzie the Dog, who had to pee a manic mean streak by the time Karen showed up at the front door.

It didn’t take long for Karen and Ramona to do the math and realize that Dave wasn’t even living in the structure anymore, which meant that Karen had been paying a redoinkulously high mortgage on a dog house all these months.  My psychic powers told me that Karen was going to blow a nutty before next week’s previews hit the screen.

But we let that pot boil for awhile as we switched limos and drove up to Anytown, CT with Love, Big Ang, Drita and Renee in search of a brutally savage attack dog.

Since returning from rehab, Renee was finally sleeping in her Big Girl bed like a Big Girl, but was still terrified that someone might break into the house while she snoozed.  And she had already installed Best Buy video cameras and the same state of the art security system that laser beams the Hope Diamond.  But she was still stressing.

So the only thing left to do was buy one of those slobbery attack dogs that they leave in Nissan car lots after closing time.  (Trust me…it’s a fact, Jack.  Whatever you do, don’t try and stick your nose through the chain link fence at midnight to see if they still have that Turbo Z you test drove the morning before, unless you want to go home with wet pants and a dog on your face.  TMI?)

Now I’m not really sure why they had to drive 3 hours away just to watch some gigantic black dog maul a guy’s padded foam arm, but they did.

And it was totally worth it.  At least for me, because the whole scene was an odd cross between Cujo trying to get in the car window and that episode of I Love Lucy when she got a vase stuck on her head.

A lot of screaming and panic and bumping into each other.

Big Ang had enough fur on her body to pass for one of the attack animals if she wanted to try chewing on the dude’s wrist.  Drita pretty much laid a patch of yellow snow and ran as far away as possible.  Love the Dog Whisperer somehow managed to give the dog a bone, as we say in the porn biz.  And Renee ended up changing her mind and driving another 3 hours back home with no puppy in the backseat.

Six hours, people.  That’s gotta suck.

But not as badly as being in Arizona and walking blindly into a house full of hostile Karen and Ramona hormones.  Dave didn’t stand a chance.

Before his arrival, Karina had already shown up and given her Mom some serious 13 year old ‘tude.  The Duh You’re So Lame kind of ‘tude that somehow genetically and magically manifests itself when a girl hits that age.

You know exactly what I’m talking about.  It can hit anywhere.  She can just be walking down the street and it hits.  Or in a fitting room.  Granted, she’s usually directly in front of me in a Burger King line OMGing on her cellphone, but it can be anywhere.  Bitch.

Needless to say, by the time Dave walked into the Karen Trap, he didn’t stand a chance.

And it didn’t help that Dave’s kind of a DoucheBag.  Or at least his gum chewing is.

He has that Chump Dbag way of chewing his Nicorette that is truly an art form.  I can’t explain it.  But there’s just a certain way to chew your gum that just shouts to the world that you’re a DoucheBag even louder than any Affliction tee shirt ever could.

It’s like the way tough girls can crackle their gum in one bite so it sounds like Pop Rocks.

That’s an art form, too.  And probably code for F*** You Up, because as soon as one chick Pops the Rocks there are like 5 more girls surrounding the picnic table.  They’re like bad a** seagulls or something.  Whatever you do…don’t feed ‘em.

Anyway.  Dave fesses up to not living in the house and Dbags his gum and excuses all over the place.  He didn’t tell Karen because he didn’t feel like it.  And then he told her to stop trippin’, which on Staten Island immediately makes someone start trippin’.  And then the whole Whoa Is Me I Was In Prison thing started, which prompted Karen’s What Did You Think I Was Doing Out Here While You Were In There thing to kick in, which in turn took Dave’s gum chewing to a whole new level.

Yeah.  This one ain’t over yet.

Back on SI, Drita showed Carla where her new Just Me Cosmetics store was going to be located.  Nothing much to see yet, since the whole thing was still under construction and all.  But it did give Drita a chance to go on Twitter after the show and pimp out the website, so at least Mama can start making some money.

And Carla had a strange Mardi Gras mask-themed birthday party in an empty VIP room with two friends from Brooklyn, where Drita showed us all how she dogged a huge hoagie during labor contractions.  Don’t ask.

Finally, back in AZ it was nothing but full on MobStuff for the remainder of the show, which was probably a little slap in the face for those of you who keep forgetting that these are actual people involved in The Lifestyle.  And possibly a little disconcerting for anyone thinking about writing a snarky, though HIGHlarious blog on a television show about real life Mobster types who could probably find you if they really wanted to on their way to The Wendy Williams Show.

Awkward.

Karen took Ramona on a little tour/TV montage flashback to where her Dad Sammy “The Bull” Gravano was busted by the Feds.  We also saw the stop sign where his enemies had planned on blowing him up with a bomb.  Karen even opened up about all the bad life choices that she had made throughout the years, not the least being that hair style she was showing off in her mug shot.

Whoa.  Seriously?  Sorry, K.  Love you.  Mean it.  But I just can’t.

We finished the whole thing off on a remote, undisclosed mountain top location.

Seriously.  They said it, not me.

These people know they’re on a TV show, right?  Even if they arrived separately in two black Escalades like Destiny’s Child (…one for Beyoncé and one for what’s her name and the other one…) they can still see the camera guys, right?

Honestly, sometimes it’s better to just go with it.  I mean, if you can watch Superman and believe that a man can fly, then I think we can all overlook the fact that they probably didn’t blindfold the sound tech before dumping him in the trunk.  And that’s why I love me some Mob Wives.

Karen and her brother Gerard wanted to be cautious and meet somewhere secluded to discuss new developments in their father’s case.  Developments that could potentially have him back out on the street by next week.

Again.  Great for the Family.  Not so great if you still plan on writing that snarky, yet HIGHlarious blog for much longer.

Gerard had discovered a discrepancy in the plea deal their Dad had made with some legal mumbo jumbo about Upward Departure and living in The Hole.  Google it.

Then a Black Ops helicopter buzzed overhead, and Karen knew it was a sign.

We Go To War.

It’s on.

 

 

Swear to Gawd. Turns out all those drugs were also hardcore appetite suppressants. You gonna finish that?

 

 

 

Girl OhNoSheDin’t Miss Thang Werk It OhHellNo MmmHmm Bitch Please Snap OhHeyGirlfriend.

 

 

 

 

I’m totally getting those huge ones that bounce up and down at stop lights. And then if there’s any money left, I’m buying tires, too.

 

 

 

One is way up here, and the other one is so ratchet it’s way down here. And Lee really hates that s***.

 

 

 

 

Me? I’m just chillin’ with my grill in…looking for some Gucci cootchie.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Not that I was looking, but it looked like it was THIS big. Let’s just say that they don’t grow ‘em like that in Arizona. Dang.

 

 

 

Pardon me, Joan Collins, but Dynasty Dress-Up Day was last week. So you might wanna take off that big a** fur coat and buy a bra that fits, capisce?

 

 

Looks like the Mob Wives are slowly getting their Mojo back.

Or at least their appetites.  And some of their sass.  Baby steps…but I’ll take ‘em.

After last episode’s slow news week where the highlights were going for a haircut and shopping for lightbulbs, it was nice to see the Wives start swearing again.

I’ll cut them a little slack, since Hurricane Sandy did force them to all play nice for a bit until the power came back on.  And Renee‘s stint in rehab didn’t really lend itself to much hair pulling and plate throwing.

But now everyone has returned to Staten Island and hopefully we can get back to what made Mob Wives such an inappropriately guilty pleasure in the first place.

And maybe they’ll even talk about Mob Stuff once in awhile.  Since the name of the show is…well, you know…Mob Wives.

We started right out with another stop on the seemingly never ending SI Restaurant Tour, as Renee and Drita met up at the local brick oven pizza joint to shovel it down and dish the dirt.  Renee was still a little behind on her gossip after her Transitions sabbatical, and you know how Girlfriend hates being out of the loop.

Renee showed up rocking one of those Toddlers & Tiaras Mob Princess logo tees that the Pageant Moms always like to wear when they jump up and down behind the judges table.  I’m not lying.  The only thing missing was some puffy glitter glue and a big homemade round photo pin of Junior‘s face.

Sparkle and Turn State’s Evidence, Baby.

Drita got Renee up to speed on Lee‘s surprise return home last week and pledged to give her husband another chance when he’s released from the the halfway house, because she believes he can change his wandering ways.

That, and the fact that Mama really needs a booty call.  Big Time.

You could tell that the old Renee was slowly rising from the ashes like a (bleepin’) phoenix, and it was (bleepin’) nice to see after all this (bleepin’) time.

She’s back, bitches.  And she’s hungry.

Meanwhile down the street, Big Ang and Carla were hanging out at the Drunken Monkey getting caught up on their own gossip.

While that odd assortment of riff raff was once again positioned way down at the other end of the bar (…this time one of the dudes was wearing an ASPCA tee instead of a Drunken Monkey souvenir shirt.  Who are these people, anyway?..) Carla relived that last meeting with Joe when he had thrown big fancy prison words, and his new girlfriend Raquel, all up in Carla’s face.

Big Ang was so captivated by Carla’s overly dramatic rehashing of the story that her only response was that she had already completed her Christimas shopping.  Focus, honey.

Carla had also heard (…in all five Boroughs again, natch…) that Luscious Love Majewski had been talking shizzle about her, and that kind of behind the back shizzle made Carla want to pull out her buttah knife again and cut that bitch like a stick of warm Land O’ Lakes.

Which in turn reminded her of Renee.  And then we all relived the whole dinner party scenario again.  The one where Carla had threatened to slit Renee’s throat so deep that all her pills would pour out like Tic Tacs.  That one.

You think maybe Carla has a hard time letting some things go?

Occasionally, a Mob Wife or two will actually cook instead of head to the restaurants, so Karen and Love hit up the local Italian grocery store for some rations.  It had the word “Italian” in the name somewhere, which Love really enjoyed, and the place was full of olives and pasta and those giant dangling sausages that hang from the ceiling like juicy weiner piñatas.

As they wandered the aisles of the Italiano de Piggly Wiggly scooping up stuff that I’ve only seen on the Food Network, Karen revealed that she was headed back to Arizona to close that chapter of her life.  Which was code for giving her on again, off again ex-con ex-boyfriend Dave the final kiss off.

Love was honestly a little disappointed that Karen couldn’t actually kill him since that’s her shtick, but understood that since he was legally the father of their child, little Karina would probably not be a big fan of dragging the Verde River for her Baby Daddy.  So flying out and kicking the bum out of his rent-free home was a good second choice, all things considered.

While they were comparing notes on Arizona, Karen’s cell phone rang.

And it was Barry White.  Or maybe the guy from Soul Train.

Or maybe it was just Storm, the record producer.  It was hard to tell.

Whoever it was, he was all like “Hey baby.  How You Doin’?  Me?  Just chillin’.  I love Italian food.  We should totally go eat Italian food someday.  You know I can’t get enuff of your love, Babe.  Deep, Dark and Delicious.”

She literally made a date for dinner, wet herself and then went outside for a cigarette.

No, you hang up first.  No.  You.  Ok, on three.  1…2…3.  OhMyGod you didn’t hang up.

It was like that.  Somebody’s got a crush.  Like, totally.  OMG.

Back in adult land, Drita and Big Ang went to the auto body shop to pick up the new custom rims for Drita’s car.  If Lee was gonna be riding this thing, she had to pimp it out.

She got herself some massive rims with the words “Lady Boss” stenciled in the center, along with her signature.  They were bad a** dope.  Like the kind those Dbag guys always have that reflect those Dbag neon lights that are screwed in underneath the chassis that change colors everytime the bass cranks Smack My Bitch Up and sets off a parked car alarm at freakin’ 2am.

That kind.

And since Lee was also going to be doing a lot of riding when he wasn’t in the car, so to speak, Drita was going up on the lift as well for a new set of boobs, because something was going on with the right one that freaked her out a little.

Honestly, after living in a halfway house and working full time in a funeral home until his release, I’m pretty sure Lee would be all over that even if she looked like a unicorn.

But Drita gets what Drita wants.  So new boobs, it is.

Then Karen and Storm went on their first date.

She was all nervous and giggly and knocking over drinks.  He was all Gangstah Gucci and more blinged out than his date, wearing a silver/diamond Flava Flav grill on his bottom teeth, which must have made him drool a lot if those things fit anything like my retainer did in junior high.  Trust me.  There’s like no place for your tongue to go and you end up sounding like you either took a shot of novocaine or you’re having a stroke.

After some awkwardly unintentional dirty jokes, they both chilled out a little and talked about their kids over dinner, but the cameras shut off before I could figure out how someone actually chews food with those grills in your face.  I’m so not gangstah.

The next morning, as Karen was writing about her date in a Hello Kitty diary, Ramona was over at TD Bank picking up her engagement ring.

As you may or may not yet know, her incarcerated boyfriend Joseph “Joe Boy” Sclafani (…YES…finally…some info on this dude has leaked…) had purchased the ring right before he was snagged by the Feds after someone implicated him in helping to facilitate a cocaine trafficking ring.

That would probably explain why all her jewelry was confiscated as potential evidence, as well as that 27 car roadblock that she and Joe Boy drove straight into last year.

He’s looking at over 10 years in prison.  But they both insist on going through with the wedding, and a bride needs a ring.  And not one that is being held by the judical system.

Turns out that the ring was bought with actual honest cash, so Ramona had finally gotten the legal ok from Regis & Kelly to pick it up from the safety deposit box at TD Bank.  She even removed her iPhone case before she went to retrieve it, so if a diamond can’t even fit through the hole in a brass knuckle than you know it’s gotta be a big piece of stone.

Spoiler Alert: Wait till next week when I fill you in on the wedding plans at Coral House on Long Island.  Cray Cray.

She hit up Karen on her cell and asked her to meet at the apartment, where she was going to finally spill the beans on her wedding and watch Karen squeal with joy.

Yeah.  That didn’t happen.

Karen had been down this road already, and knew what Ramona was getting into.  She pretty much burst her bubble before Ramona even got to the part about Joe only being let out on parole for one week, due to the fact that he would require an armed guard at all times.  And then the whole thing just spun out of control in a Dr. Phil meets Mob Wives kind of way.  Haters gonna hate.

Like I said.  Mojo’s coming back.  Slowly.  But it’s coming back.

Ramona’s living in a bubble.  A (bleepin’) nightmare.  Karen waited for Dave for over 10 years…for nuthin.  Say it.  Say it.  Say it.  Whaddayou want me to say?

And then Karen got all Bada Bing on Ramona’s a** and called her either stunod or stunatu or a dialectish variation thereof (…yeah…I’m clearly not gangstah OR Sicilian, can you tell?…) and then they just pissed each other off with their Italian hands.

Mojo.

After that we all needed some fresh air, so we headed out to Love’s front porch where she received a call from one of her 200 ex-boyfriend fiancé types.

This one was named Fate.

For real.  Like when Love tempts Fate.  You can’t make this s*** up.  And you know he has at least one tattoo and uses hair gel.  You could just tell by his voice.

Of all her many stabbing victims, Fate is the only one she would ever commit to long term.  She even said it on the phone.  But he lives on the West Coast, and she lives on the East Coast.

So for right now, it’s just dirty talk on the phone and dog walking for Ms. Majewski.

Then the whole thing just went straight up Real Housewives of Staten Island.

Alisa Maria, fur & handbag designer and Halle Barry wannabe, threw a dress-up party at her home for all the Wives and some Staten Island randomness.

The only way I can describe it is if you can imagine a leather handbag trunk show taking place at RHONJ Teresa Giudice‘s house and then someone else shows up with about 20 of those Garment District rolling racks packed full of the massive fur coats that they used to wear on Dynasty.

Because that’s exactly how it went down.

Everyone was trying stuff on and running around like they were going to push each other into the koi pond before Blake got home from the office.

And like every good Real Housewives episode, it all ends up with a fight in the kitchen.

Somehow Renee managed to get liquored up on bottled water, and was all loud and hysterical as she captivated the audience with her stories about Men and Loyalty.

At some point during the hilarity, Karen tried on one of Alexis Carrington‘s fur coats which Ramona said made her look like a snow bunny that should be shot, gutted and hung on the shed door and then one misunderstanding after another caused Ramona to believe that Renee was talking about her impending marriage.

I know, right?  Cuz it was a secret.  Which no one but Karen knew about.

So she must have leaked the news.  And then Ramona got pissed, because nobody else should be shining on her parade.  Which was so redoinkulously opposite of what the saying really is that I had to pause the DVR for a moment to just process what happened.

Then it was all out in the open.  Just like Ramona’s boobs.

(Seriously.  Did you see her outfit?  Bazoinga!  Mob Wives in IMAX 3D.)

Boom.  Show them the Ring.  You’re the Grim Reaper of Engagements.  Karen’s in the Twilight Zone.  You should get married.  You should stay engaged.  You should either pay for that fur or stop sweating in it.  Who are all these other people?

Total misinterpretations and absolute chaos.

Somehow at rehab, intentionally or not, it appears that the Transitions staff managed to not only sober up Renee but also inject her with some of NeNe Leakes DNA, because Miss Thang was all Fierce and Sassy and You Keep That Ring And Hoc It Girlfriend as she head bopped her way across my television.  It had to be seen to be believed.

Graziano is the New Black.

And then Ramona pushed Karen into the koi pond.

Next week…Big Ang’s Christmas Party.

Be there, or Carla will cut you.

 

 

It’s was like I opened a Hickory Farms freezer door and found a fresh cheese log still in the wrapper. Bam!

 

 

 

I like to take the two cheese balls and keep ‘em in a jar so I always know where they are at all times.

 

 

 

 

Umm. Yeah. I’m gonna need those back, by the way. I got a hoe in da house and she brought crackers.

 

 

 

 

Anyone ever comes at me with a buttah knife, I’ll spread them out like Nutella on white bread.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Did youz see those things? I swear she must hold ‘em like this in the (bleepin’) shower.

 

 

 

 

 

Dang, girl.

 

 

 

 

 

MmmMmm. Better sand bag the front door. Something tells me there’s a Storm front moving in this weekend.

 

 

Welcome home, Renee!

Welcome home, Lee!

Finally.  The whole Mob Wives gang is back together again.

Or close to it, anyway, as two of Staten Island’s most infamous residents found their way back to the neighborhood this week.

Granted, Renee’s actual home is so new that she still doesn’t know where the fuse box is located, and Drita‘s husband Lee is technically still based out of some random Halfway House on the East Coast.

But at least they’re home, right?

We picked right up where we left off last week, as Drita relived the moment she opened her front door and found newly released Lee standing in the kitchen holding daughter Gizelle in his arms.

If she didn’t already (bleep) her pants when she saw him standing there by the sink, I’m pretty sure Drita (bleeped) them when she retold the story, because she was going off like she had just been to a One Direction concert.  Totally (bleepin’) awesome.

Also, since I’m fairly certain that on your first day of prison release you probably aren’t going to break a window and climb in through the back hallway, I’m going to assume that Drita’s other daughter Aleeya must have let Lee in when he rang the doorbell.

They never really clarified how he got inside a home that utilizes the same high tech video security system they have at Best Buy, but somehow Lee made it in and was hugging it up with his kids when Drita swung the door open.

She (bleepin’) bugged out.  Which she does a lot.

And Carla and Big Ang love that romantic shizzle.  They were hanging off the edge of the couch, totally jealz, as Drita explained how incarceration keeps a man fresh as a bone-in ham in the freezer, and that she couldn’t even wait for that thing to defrost on the counter before she tore into it.

Bow chicka bow wow.

As far as that whole fresh as ham in a freezer thing goes though, I’m not really sure what Food Network prison chef show Drita’s been watching, because every time I rent a jailhouse movie they are definitely serving up some ham salad, if you know what I mean.

But she would know better, I guess.  Plus, she still scares me a little.  So whatev.

For now, Lee was off to the Halfway House, leaving Drita to try and figure out what to do next.  Should she take him back?  Should she not even give him a chance?  What to do.

Luckily, Big Ang and RuPaul were both on hand to offer a few words of wisdom when it came to dealing with ex-cons and drag queens.

Don’t F*** it up, Fish.

Next, it was off to a charity art event with Karen, Ramona and my new Reality TV girlfriend Love Majewski.

It was a chance to shop, raise some money for breast cancer and to see Lovey wear the same one shoulder top that Wilma Flinstone always wore when she went to the Bedrock Opera House.  I swear.

Don’t ask.  It’s better that way.

Then Renee finally got her homecoming.

After weeks in Miami rehab, where we discovered that she bowled, went to movies and laid on the beach (…say what?  Sign me up…) Renee was back home in her new digs.

In TV Time it was getting close to Thanksgiving, so she was looking forward to a fresh start for the holidays with friends and family.  It would mean a chance to begin a new chapter in her life and put all the Junior wire tapping dramz behind her.

Thanksgiving would also mean that Drita was going to have to stop gnawing on that Easter ham sooner or later, and switch to turkey like the rest of us.

Come up for air, girlfriend.  He’ll be home for awhile.

But before the holidays, Renee wanted to get all the girls together and celebrate her homecoming in style.  Big ball bowling style.  So she set a date with Drita and then went back to trying to locate that fuse box before the winter storms season hit.

Across town, on the other side of da hood, Karen was chillin’ with her new homie Storm at the studio.  Word.

As you’ll recall, Karen had just recently invested in the studio because a financial advisor told her to spread around some of the monetary love from her Mob Daughter book, and since she knew absolutely NOTHING about the music industry, a studio seemed the perfect fit.

Kickin’ it in the hizzle with Storm and his backwards hat, Karen was a textbook silent partner.  Except for the silent part.

What should I do?  What’s that knob for?  What’s that switch for?  Can I push that big red one?  How did they make Kim Zolciak sound like she could sing?

But Storm was totally dope and coolio wid it as he busted out a few hip hop phrases that flew miles over her white Italian girl head.  Fo shizzle.

Karen knew what Single & Ready to Mingle meant, though, and almost swallowed her gum when she realized that Storm might have been flirting with her a little bit.

Hmmm.  Mama liked, and the Gravano Gravy was starting to heat up.

Stay tuned, Big Daddy.  Stay tuned.

And speaking of trying to score.  It was time to hit the bowling alley.

Drita, Ang, Ramona and Karen all joined Renee to celebrate the completion of her stint at rehab and to prove that bowling really ain’t there thang.  Really.

As Big Ang gave birth to bowling ball baby after bowling ball baby (…our girl prefers the drop, splat and roll technique over the more traditional three finger toss…) everyone else aimed for the gutter and drank beer.

Except Renee, who won the game like a pool shark.  If pool sharks bowled, I mean.

See yah, suckahs.

Turns out it was a slow news week on Mob Wives, so next up we killed some time watching Neil get a haircut.  Riveting stuff, I tell you.

Big Ang’s on again, off again, in again, out again husband was currently back in the house, and apparently part of the deal was that he get rid of that boy band faux hawk and clean it up a little.  So they hit up the local barber shop for some grooming.

Because that’s what Big Ang wanted.  And she’s the boss of him.

While Neil was getting buzzed, Karen and Drita enjoyed a spa day together.  Which is crazy, because last season they almost threw each other off the penthouse roof top, right?  Crazy.

Maybe if Renee and Ramona had shown up like they were supposed to, it wouldn’t have been so initially awkward.  But they didn’t.  So it was.

Side note:  For some reason VH1 felt it necessary to blur out all the Drita side boob action on her massage table, which was odd considering that 5 channels up the dial at the Oscars telecast the same things were flopping out of every Armani Privé gown on the red carpet.  Go figure.

Karen and Drita talked about Lee coming home and the irony of the two of them laying face down together on tables instead of cement sidewalks.  And then they had cocktails.

Even though Renee and Ramona couldn’t be bothered to follow through on their spa date, they did manage to hit the streets for some quality bonding time during an evening walking tour of Little Italy’s best pastry and coffee shops.

Hard to believe, but it had already been one year since Renee’s Dad Anthony “TG” Graziano “went away” (…that’s how they say it on the Island…) after getting caught up in that whole Junior turned Rat Snitch fiasco.  Combine that with the memory of Ramona’s grandfather Benjamin “LeftyGuns” Ruggiero, who passed away on Thanksgiving Day 1994 and you had the makings for a stroll down Memory Lane.  

Ramona wanted to set up a memorial for Lefty, and Renee wanted another grandé mocha sumthin sumthin, because she always seems to be holding a Starbucks cup now that she is back from rehab.

As if going to a barber shop didn’t already captivate a nation, Big Ang then headed to the lamp store to buy some light bulbs.  Nine of them.

I know what you’re thinking.  Most people would probably go to Costco for such a bulk quantity, but Ang don’t play dat.  Did I already mention it was a slow news week?

Carla accompanied Angela to Lamps ‘r Us in case she needed any assistance with such a massive quantity of LEDs, and it gave them both a chance to gossip about Joe‘s divorce papers and custody issues while the sales guy nervously scurried around trying to find a box of miniature chandelier bulbs.  Because Ang is the boss of him, too.

It also gave us all a chance to realize that at some point during the filming of her own spin-off show, Big Ang had gotten exceptionally MmmHmm YouGoGirl sassy.  Like two snaps and a circle VH1 sassy.  Or maybe it’s just me, but I don’t remember her being so over the top during that first roof top throw down all those many episodes ago.

Everything is eye rolls and OhNoSheDin’t and big hand gestures and don’tchoo get my hair wet, Boo.  And you totally know that Big Ang uses the eraser end of a pencil when she types unpunctuated tweets on her keyboard.  Cuz acrylics ain’t cheap, haters.

That doesn’t mean I love her any less.  It’s just an observation, mmmkay?  Snap.

Then the Wives took us to church.  Literally.

Lefty Gun’s memorial service included prayers, speeches and someone who looked like Whitney Houston in her I Wanna Dance With Somebody video singing a hymn.

Halleloo.

I had to Google her to find out all the deets because I liked her voice, and because that’s what I do.  According to her website she’s an up and coming performer that I should have probably already known, but since I don’t shop at Arden B or buy my makeup at Walgreeen’s, I didn’t know who she was.

(Hey.  I’m just telling you what her site said.  Chill.)

But she had a great voice.  So check her out.  Esnavi‘s the name.  Singing’s the game.

Don’t get too comfortable, though.  After surviving Storm Sandy and horny Producer Storm, there was one more storm slowing brewing on the Island.

Storm Carla.  You could tell something was coming.  Not sure when, so I’m sure you still have time to board the windows and stock up on non-perishables.

But something was coming.

First off, Carla had a little sit down with Joe and his new live-in girlfriend Raquel.  Carla had never actually met the woman, even though she had already judged her and talked smack in five boroughs.  But this time they met up face to face.

It went well, considering that deep down Carla doesn’t honestly believe anyone should own the deed to Joe’s kahunas unless it’s Carla herself.  But Raquel is a nice girl and barely flinched when Carla tossed around the phrase Hoes In Da House like it was a new dance club anthem.

Hoes In Da House.  Put your hands up in the air.  And close your legs to married men.

Big Ang would have totally gone all OhNoSheDin’t if she was there.  MmmHmm.

In the diner, Carla and Raquel agreed to play nice, even though Raquel thought she was full of (bleep) after Joe paid the bill.

I could totally sit through a show that was nothing but Joe’s whacky eyeballs.

Love that dude.

Finally, the storm inched even closer during a sushi dinner with Love, Karen and Drita.

Love had heard that Carla was talking about everybody.  Again.  There seems to be a lot of that going around.

And whether you actually diss Love, or her Girls, it’s all the same.  You wouldn’t kick a pitbull puppy if its mother was sitting right there, would you?  Der.

Remember when Carla swung that tiny butter knife in Renee’s face a few weeks ago?

Big whoop.  Love actually stabbed a guy.  Or two.

So you do the math.

And then stock up on those non-perishables, because something’s coming.

Capisce?