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Holy Moly Cannoli.

Is it June 2nd yet?

Seriously.  Part of me wants to flip a table.  Part of me just needs to lay down.

The Real Housewives Of New Jersey are back and Bravo just unleashed a hot mess of a SuperTrailer right in your face, Bitch.

Drama.  More Drama.  And then a little bit more Drama.

Teresa vs. Melissa.   Joe vs. Joe.  Teresa vs. Jacqueline.  Kathy rolling her eyes a lot.  Caroline trying to solve all the world’s problems like an Italian Yoda.

And, of course, one of Teresa’s kids sliding down what looks like some kind of Mass Transit stripper pole pretending to be Aunt Melissa.  Because it’s Jersey, and apparently that’s how the Giudices roll when the family gets together.

Clearly, the long term plan to settle the issues between the Gorga and Giudice Famiglias still needs a little work.  And it’s especially not looking too good for Melissa this time around, as implications of stripping and cheating and hogging all that glitter eye shadow from last year’s Reunion Special appear to be haunting her at every turn.

Add into the mix some ongoing legal issues, a sick parent, allegedly questionable scripting, a new smack-talking DList friend-for-money and one bad a** beat down between The Joes, and the upcoming season looks sloppier than a tipped over bowl of Fabulicious meatballs.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Because I do love a hot mess.

And a good cannoli.

Mangia…and enjoy.

 

 

OhMyGod. If you cut your green beans on the bias they literally look like little quilted Chanel clutch bags.

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. With all of Rodger’s whining, I think I might have just put the diaper on the wrong baby.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Put me down. Put me down. Put me down. That fabulous vintage dress is giving me a maj gas bubble.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. I know, right? Who knew that sweaters with shawl collars work better than roofies?

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. I’m not gonna lie. That scarf is literally making me shwiiing a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. You wish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Stylist On The Bus goes…OhMyGod. OhMyGod. OhMyGod!

 

 

Shoes.  Handbags.  Babies.

Literally, you can never have enough of them.

One or two for every outfit.  In every color, please.

At least when it comes to the accessories.

Babies are a little more like brown shoes.  They go with everything.

The Rachel Zoe Project was nothing but handbag hardware clicking and biological clock ticking this week as Rachel & Rodger debated whether or not the world was ready for another SuperPregnancy and the resulting Fashion Spawn.

Now that little Goy Sky Sky Morrison Berman was almost old enough to pick out his own polished amber crystal necklace and Burberry onesie every morning, the pressure was starting to mount on Rachel to design and create both a Fall line for QVC and a new baby sister for the Prince.

Her husband, friends and Whacky Gay Sidekick all thought it might be time to go into production.  Her in-house staff of ZoeCo pseudo-babysitter/styling assistants also felt it was time.  Even the Starbuck’s barista probably mentioned it once in awhile…Rachel’s certainly in their enough for someone to start a conversation.

Honestly, the only person who probably thought otherwise was whoever the poor security guy for that office building is who has to stop what he’s doing every day and go find Sky Sky after the little diva pushes his way through a rack of Oscar de la Renta and disappears out a fire door.

Seriously.  If you’re going to continue to let a kid roam unmonitored throughout your offices during working hours while everyone else is focused on oggling prototypes, either install a GPS in his diaper or hang a Life Alert beeper on that girly choker he’s always wearing.  Don’t make me call Child Services.

My man Joey Maalouf was the first person to suggest to Rachel that maybe it was time to hatch another Fabergé egg.

Let’s just cut to the chase on this scene and mention that one of my pet peeves in television editing is when they cut and splice one scene into multiple episodes and spend an entire season trying to fake us out into believing that it’s a new day every time you see Joey and his baseball cap sitting at the kitchen table flipping through last year’s Vogue.  Nice try, Bravo.

But it’s Joey, so you get a pass.

Unfortunately, it’s the 2013 model Joey, who isn’t really allowed to do much on screen anymore.  I miss the old Joey who would get all diva hissy pissy on Sad Sack  Jeremiah Brent or get nervous pee every time  Brad Goreski showed him what Anne Hathaway was wearing to the Oscars.  Oh, those were good times.

That’s also what has led to some less than stellar feedback on this season by other websites, but I’ll leave all that to the legitimate reviewers.  I’m just here to talk about Joey’s hair and ask if anyone knows why he scratches the left side of his face so much.

The only real point of this scene was to once again allow Nanny Rusty and Sky Sky to emerge from the blinding light of the back kitchen door like that Poltergeist kid did when she got sucked in and out of the bedroom closet.

Seriously.  Did you see Sky Sky’s entrance?  I am willing to bet money that Rachel has a fog machine back there somewhere.  Every time they come through that door it gets even more blindingly maj.  Right before they cut to commercial I’m pretty sure that Celine Dione came out with one of the Cirque du Soleil clowns.

After everyone fawned over Sky Sky like he was the Lion King baby, it was off to the office for Handbag Prototype Day.  Which is like Shoe Prototype Day, but obviously no where near as cool.

Because I’m good like dat, even before I knew it was HPDay I could tell it had something to do with accessories because Elizabeth from the Handbag Team totally looked like she made jewelry at home on her day off.  Oversized shirt, buzz cut hair and big artsy glasses.  I love people who make their own soap.

The whole thing was like a Lego Toy Convention at The Hamptons, with all these fancy pants sitting around adding this latch to that flap in an attempt at creating a bag or rocket ship that the world has never seen before.

Those purses were EVERYthing.  I swear.

Even Rodger got into the game when he showed up carrying his own ManPurse, which clearly did not go with his outfit.

I just can’t.  And neither could Rachel.

Which I guess explained why she immediately put in a call to Joey on the BatPhone and then dragged Rodger out the front door for an emergency retail makeover.

Everyone to AllSaints Spitalfields.  Stat.

After what amounted to a virtual tour of the retailer’s new flagship location (…“OhMyGod…how cute is this?”…) we learned that Rodger loves to mope and sulk but hates to go shopping, and that shawl collar sweaters make Rachel horny.

For realz.

And since Rodger really wants another kid asap, we might as well get used to seeing him in a lot of shawl collars this year.

With one fashion crisis under control, it was back to the office for a quick phone call with Glamour Magazine.  They were planning a photo shoot on The New Bohemian story, which looks a lot like The Old Bohemian story if anyone is asking, and that was right up Rachel’s alley.  It’s her thang, so I felt some long skirts and floppy hats coming on soon.

But not before Rodger’s ManDate with BFF William Banks-Blaney.  Love.  Him.

OhMyGod.  William.  The King of Vintage.  And Hoarder of Scarves and Shoes.  Dude is so Britishly fabulous that it almost made me book a flight across the pond just so I could slap the Queen before afternoon tea.

He loooooved Rodger’s scarf.  And of all days to not wear one of his own.  He felt positively naked.

From what I can tell, William basically travels the world with a steamer trunk full of his own shoes, scarves and a collapsible rolling rack, sniffing out the most amazeballs vintage couture he can find, which he then drags to Rachel’s office where she pretty much drops her own child on his head so she can have both arms free to fondle the goods.

Because that’s what happened.

After almost losing her nutty the second William rolled in, Rachel dove head first into the rack of clothing and basically OhMyGod’d herself into an asthma attack.

By the time William unveiled the pièce de résitance…a sparkly, glittery, crystallized, over the top gown that I vaguely remember Cher wearing before she ripped it off to reveal a Bob Mackie thong underneath…Rachel was on an inhaler.

OhMyGod.  EVERYthing.  If you know anyone at Buckingham Palace, now would be a good time to wake the Queen.

I really need to start hyphenating my last name.

The next day, as Styling Associate Eileen began a Bohemian Scavenger Hunt through the retail jungle, Rachel and Rodger headed to New York City to…finally…view the completed DreamDry Blow Dry Bar.

The only real point of this scene was to show how cranky the two of them are when they have to get up at a normal hour like the rest of us in the Real World, and show that Rodger still dresses in too many layers for an indoor event.

He was too hot.  Too cold.  Sweating.  OhMyGod.  Dying.  Literally dying.  Sweating under his scarf, jacket, new shawl collar sweater, button down shirt, layering tee and CK undershirt.  Not to mention those 15 extra pounds that Rachel keeps harping about.

Go figure.  Take off a few layers or hit the treadmill, Dude.  Standing in the middle of your new DreamDry venture ain’t the time to go through Manopawz.

At some point after his hot flash, they found their way back to the limo to call little Sky Sky on his Fisher Price iPhone.  Why, you ask?

Get this:  Because Rachel had forgotten to tell Rusty what outfit the little Goy was supposed to wear that day.

I swear.

Apparently, just because you have the papers to prove you can care for a child and feed a child and entertain a child and perform CPR on a child when he swallows one of the stones from his amber necklace, it doesn’t mean you are qualified to match a sweater to his pants.  Even if you know the difference between this season’s Gucci and last.

Ain’t happening.  So Rachel to the rescue.

Yet another fashion crisis resolved.

The rest of the episode was basically all Bohemian Chic and Baby Talk.

Glamour’s photo shoot got off to a slow start thanks to morning fog and the fact that, once again, Rachel was running late.  She blamed it on the LA Freeway and never knowing her way around and blah blah blah which I found kind of odd, because unless William also gave her a European car with the steering wheel on the wrong side, she wasn’t the one driving to the shoot.

I swear this show would only be 30 minutes long if she bought a watch.

Also, the irony of Rachel standing in a dark trailer, wearing her dark googly sunglasses, looking out into dark pea soup fog while complaining that she could barely see anything shouldn’t have been lost on anyone.

I’ll never understand fancy people.

The sun finally broke through the clouds and the shoot was a success.  Long skirts and floppy hats.  What’d I tell you?

It ran a little long, but that was mostly due to Rachel trying on all the clothes first and then shutting down the entire production to have Mr. Hair Guy trim her new bangs.

Mama don’t pay for haircuts.  Please.

With the photos in the can and her bangs all freshly laid like Farrah Fawcett, it was time to go home and spend the evening with the ZoeFam.

Kind of a Normal Rockwell moment.  If you really squinted.

Rodger wants another child.  Rachel doesn’t know what she wants.  She loves little Sky Sky but doesn’t know if she can do it all with a second baby strapped across her chest inside a Chanel papoose.  Not to mention that if her ankles swell up again she can’t wear her 6 inch tall wedgie boots.  And they’re fabulous.

And then it was Night Night for Sky Sky.  Rachel sang us out with a stirring rendition of The Wheels On The Bus as Sky Sky wiggled around in the same high-tech highchair pod that Jor-El used to send Superman to Earth.

Wait.

Now that you mention it…

The letter “S” is just a backwards “Z.”

You don’t think…?  Could it…?

Sleep tight, little Sky Sky.  Metropolis needs a hero.

And a makeover.

 

 

OhMyGod. Probably at least one of us should be watching the road, but those shoes are literally EVERYthing.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. So I bought these new candles for my office that smell just like Brad Goreski. I miss that little scamp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. I can’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Skinny White Boy so funny. Hair boner look like Flintstone baby.

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Bitch stole my look. Justin Bieber literally just got new bangs.

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Why didn’t I think of this before? Anne Hathaway’s gonna own this look at next year’s Oscars.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod. Bitch, pleez. I’ve been putting underwear on my head since junior high, if you know what I mean.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGod.

If you’re looking for a place to hang that will instantly make you feel as though you’re not pretty enough or rich enough, and don’t stand a chance of ever being pretty enough or rich enough, than you’ve come to the right place.

Welcome to Rachel Zoe‘s kitchen.

This week The Rachel Zoe Project kicked off with a quick Show & Tell presentation of Sky Sky Berman‘s latest designer baby clothes assortment, all laid out like some perversely overpriced Kiwanis Flea Market across two countertops and a sink.

Little half girl/mostly boy Sky Sky does like his Gucci and his Burberry.

Or so Mom says.  Probably not as much as Mom likes buying them, as evidenced by Rachel’s continuously looped shopaholic squeal as hanger after hanger passed by for approval.  But the kid has no problem making poo in the fancy stuff.  OhMyGod…is there anything cuter?  Umm.  No.

Whereas most of us would not even be able to cover that much square footage in the kitchen with actual food, Rachel proudly dumped an entire season’s worth of wardrobe all over the marble counter as Rodger stood back watching the money drain from his checkbook faster than the blood from his face.

While quiet newbie Intern Co, who’s a friendly mix of Harvard geek and nail salon tech, chilled on the other side of the counter, Rodger tried to impress on Rachel how wasteful all her purchases were, considering that little Goy Sky Sky was most likely going to outgrow the stuff long before it transitioned into the Vintage Couture category.

But it didn’t matter, because she wanted it, along with a bonus crocodile clutch that had somehow made it unnoticed into the Baby Gap shopping bag.

Plus, Rodger was getting fat.

Her words, not mine.  True dat though, because the only thing not growing on Rodger’s body right now seems to be that over-the-hill surfer dude haircut.

Seriously.  How long does it take to grow out your bangs, dude?  It’s like Time just stood still and froze your follicles midstream.  Cut It.  Or Grow It.  End of Story.

And speaking of.  Rachel’s new bangs were still quite an issue this week, as she futzed and putzed with them every chance she got.  Even on her road trip with Mandana to see a newly unveiled RZ/Jockey shapewear billboard, she was still having some issues.

As they ran every light on Hollywood & Vine, Rachel was wearing the same eyeglass frames that the tiny superhero costume designer wore in Pixar’s The Incredibles, so I’m pretty sure that’s why she seemed to be having so much facial drama.  Cartoon glasses AND new bangs.  It’s a lot to deal with at one time.  You have no idea.

In an effort to revive the Jockey brand, Rachel had joined forces with the company for the billboard, as well as some upcoming video shoots.  Despite having her own reality television show, Rachel was not a big fan of being front and center.  Or so she claimed.

The thought of seeing herself on the side of a 10 story building had RZ a bit tightly wound, especially knowing that the billboard had been created back in the paleolithic Pre-Bang Era and that soon we would all be gawking at a 2 story tall forehead.

OhMyGod.

As Mandana took both hands off the wheel and glanced anywhere but into oncoming traffic, Marisa was back in the office talking to The Man From Jockey, who had called to confirm the video shoot and to let everyone know that Rachel was going to have to read some pretty big words off a teleprompter.

OhMyGod.

New bangs.  Big glasses.  And now reading?  Rachel only loves 2 of those 3 things, by the way.  This should be good.

While the girls were out looking for the monster billboard, the other girl(s) were in town shopping for some office fluff.  Rodger wanted to finish up the decor in his special internet surfing/company running office, so he snagged the other Rachel, ”Silbs“ Silberman, for a quick candle shopping excursion.

Most people would hit up Office Depot or the newest Container Store, but Rog ain’t Most People.  So it was off to Candles ‘R Us for a few lightly scented supplies and some overly dramatic hair tosses.  Don’t try this around open flames, kids.

And then the angels sang and a choir burst into the Hallelujah chorus.

The Godzilla Rachel Billboard.

Mandana was all like OhMyGod.  Rachel was all like Don’tMakeMeLook…but while we’re here take an iPhone photo and make sure you get the whole thing in the viewfinder.

And then they went back to the office, to find a note from President Barrack Obama.

I know, right?  Obama watches Bravo TV.  Shut the White House front door.

Rachel was pretty excited to hear from POTUS (…Twitter lingo, cuz we’re hip like dat…) and even sent a photo of the note to The Man From Elle Magazine.  His name is actually Joe Zee, but TMFEM also looks way cooler on Twitter, especially since everyone always confuses Joe Zee with Jay-Z.  And he hates that.

Even though one is an Asian women’s magazine guy and the other one…isn’t.

Joe-Z (…ok, now I’m just messin’ wid u…) wanted Rachel to style the April Intelligent Woman issue, creating a number of different looks based on all the jobs a busy woman like herself could relate to nowadays.  And then Rachel got ink on her desk blotter and the Earth pretty much boinked off its axis for a second.

OhMyGod.  Literally, the end of the world.

Luckily, Rodger was spared the trauma of having to try and unsee the horror of ink actually coming into contact with an ink blotter, because he was out on the golf course with his buddy Marc, whacking a bucket o’ balls and getting in some girl talk.

They stayed out long enough to discuss how Rachel was a reluctant celebrity, how Rodger needed to make a bigger deal about the Godzilla Board and how badly Rodger sucked at golf.

Then it was back to the RZ Offices, where Rachel was spilling all the Elle Magazine deetz to Styling Associate Eileen.  The shoot was going to be all about strong women and how they can bring fashion into their everyday lives, as long as they have a rack of loaner clothes from Theory and a professional Hollywood stylist on speed dial.

As Eileen scooted out the door to start stripping down every boutique in town for clothes and accessories, Rachel was left at her desk just looking at the ink blot in her sunglasses.  Which, once again, made me wonder how these Hollywood people do it.

Wear sunglasses inside all the time, I mean.  I really need to brush up on sunglass etiquette.  If you wear them in the club at night, you’re either PDiddy or a DoucheBag.  I know that.  But if  you wear them in your office or your home, now you’re ZoeCool I Can’t Stand It?  Even if you can’t see anything?

I always wondered how Michael Kors could sit through Fashion Week in those dark tents wearing his sunglasses the entire time, and then get back to the office and even remember what color the collection was trending towards.

Maybe it’s just me.  But I can’t even get up at 3am to refill my sippy cup without getting lost in my own hallway, so I have no idea how Rachel works a toaster oven in shades and a fur vest.  It’s a gift, I guess.

After emptying out half the boutiques on The Strip, it was time for the Elle Magazine shoot.

There were a number of outfits, and loads of photos being taken.  But all that really mattered was that my boy Joey Maalouf was back in the hizzle!  And nobody can work a designer fanny pack and a mini Pebbles hairdo like JM.

You know when Moms insist on giving their newborns that little top of the head ponytail even though the tiny nuggets were just born and don’t have enough hair to make a statement?  Even with a plastic Hello Kitty bow?  And then it usually pops off and you step on it at the Clam Shack with your bare feet or the kid eats it when it falls into the stroller while Mom’s yakking on her cell?

Joey had that kind of thing going on up there, as only Joey could.  It wasn’t long enough to tie a bow around, and definitely not straight enough to pick up free HBO.  So I’m not really sure what it was all about.  But it was Joey.  And that’s really all that mattered.

On the final shot, Rachel couldn’t decide on which outfit to use, so Joe-Z suggested that she join the model on the shoot and kill two birds with one stone.  Naturally, Rachel was grossly uncomfortable and had a brief little hissy fit, but she managed to run to the makeup chair like she had just seen a Mall Santa with no kids in line.

And of course, no photo shoot would be complete without the arrival of little Goy Sky Sky and his trademarked photo shoot dance.  He can’t use a toilet yet, but the kid knows how to twerk it and pick out the most expensive Chanel bracelet.  Werk.

Finally, it was off to the Jockey shapewear shoot, where the studio was filled with nothing but undies and cue cards.

But no Rachel or Joey.  They ended up being taken to the wrong studio by their driver.

Following a few moments of over the top dramz  (…Seriously.  They just took the wrong ramp, they didn’t go careening off a bridge into the Pacific Ocean…) they eventually made it to the correct location and got right down to bidnezz.

Sorta.

After a 20 minute board meeting and one overseas conference call on what to do with Rachel’s new bangs, they finally got the show on the road.  Moving military cargo into position can not be as difficult as figuring out how to style those damn bangs.  No way.

Let’s go, people.  Time is money.

Here’s a newsflash:  Rachel doesn’t do very well when she can’t just wing it.

No, ma’am.  No, she don’t.

Having to read off a teleprompter and make sentences without using the words Maj and Dying and  Literally nearly sent her to the emergency room.  Literally.  And it’s not like anyone was asking her to read War & Peace.

More like “This panty holds your fat a** nice and tight.  I’m Rachel Zoe.”

But no such luck.

RZ tripped all over her words.  Got nervous.  Tripped some more.  Got flustered.  Put a thong on her head, because it seemed like the thing to do at the time (…I think we’ve all been there…) and basically turned a 30 minute video cut into a full day of time and a half union work.

At the end of the day, Jockey was happy.  Elle Magazine was happy.  Rachel didn’t have to say the word ‘cheeky.’  And Joey was back.

No decisions were made on New York apartments or growing out bangs.  There’s only so much one person can handle in a day.

And Godzilla Rachel is still watching over us, making certain that everyone’s outfits are properly accessorized and that all their junk is nicely squeezed into some Jockey.

On sale at Macy’s through the end of the month.

OhMyGod.  I love sales.