DanThat'sCool!

 

 

Raise your hands if you were expecting Wendy Williams and have no clue why Dr. Drew is here today.

 

 

 

 

 

 How You Doin’…? That’s what that lady says, right? Holler.

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously? I’ve got a freezer full of Italian sausages to nibble on and I’m sitting here? Mama’s got the munchies.

 

 

 

 

Because proper oral hygiene is very important and everyone should floss once a day. And you’re a Bitch.

 

 

 

 

Go on Google, you whore. Or Amazon…and then you can buy my book at the same time. Boom!

 

 

 

 

That’s a nice story, but I’m really gonna need you to keep all your Krazy on that side of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Dammit. I think I left my Chapstick and Newports in the cab.

 

 

 

 

Sorry, NeNe Leakes.

(Bleep) is the new Bloop.

You and the rest of your Gone With The Wind Fabulous ATL girls just got skooled by Staten Island.  Watch, and learn.

Remember that episode of Meerkat Manor where all the lady ‘kats were fighting and and gnawing and spraying on the same piece of dead carcass and you couldn’t tell which one was making all the noise?  And there was fur and sharp teeth flying everywhere while that one scrawny boy ‘kat who got left behind at the burrow just kept running in circles trying to find the escape tunnel?

I give you Mob Wives: The Reunion.

With Dr. Drew Pinsky, for some reason.

After a season full of rehab, hurricanes, wedding gowns and beat downs, everyone was back together again for one last hurrah.  Except for Love Majewski, that is.

The Divine Miss M, along with her crazy face, crazy talk and crazy boobs, were all noticeably MIA from the pseudo-Andy Cohen couches, and the Doctor addressed the issue as soon as the theme song stopped playing.

Surrounded by a whole lot of  shiny lips and sparkly eye lids, Dr. Drew explained that everyone had decided it was “Best if we part ways,” which is basically just textbook HR Code for “We fired her NutWad a** for being such a loose cannon and making our VH1 insurance deductibles go through the roof.  Bitch was cray to the umpteenth power of cray.  No thank you.”

She no longer works for the company.  We wish her well.

And then we had the first video montage of the evening:  The Best of Love.

With all your favorite Love Hits, including Bath Salt Zombie and I’ll Stab You To Death.

Order before midnight tonight and you’ll also receive a free pair of nipple pasties and a shiv as your bonus gifts with purchase.  But hurry…quantities are limited.

Two minutes into the Reunion and Dr. Drew was already more nervous than he was when all those D List celebrities were OD’ing on his watch.

Renee didn’t like Love, so it was no loss.  Big Ang, who was working some seriously reflective Captain America ballistic fish scales, is still my secret girlfriend and can do no wrong.  She was not surprised that Love had been fired, but beyond that comment didn’t really seem to be paying much attention.  For most of the show Big Ang appeared to be trying to remember if she left the iron turned on back at home.

Karen, who traded off her signature ombré hair extensions with Ramona after the show went on hiatus, reminisced about punching out Love in a parking lot when she was only 17 years old.  Cuz that’s how they role in Staten Island.

Luckily, Drita was there to explain the difference between a Semi-Mental Case vs. just Keeping It Real.  Because there’s a difference when you pop off on someone in a parking lot.

If you’re mental, you might get a reduced sentence.  If you’re just Keeping It Real, then…well…you’re just Keeping It Real on a bitch’s face.  It’s Staten Island.

Gah, I love me some Mob Wives.

And then I’m not really sure what happened.  I only looked down for three seconds, and when I looked back up Ramona and Carla were going at it like junk yard dawgs.

But that’s part of the Mob Wives Magic.  One minute they can all be hanging out getting manis and pedis, and the next thing you know the censor button is going off like Morse Code on a sinking submarine.

Carla must have wagged her finger at Ramona, because all of the sudden the two of them were going off like bottle rockets from opposite couches as Dr. Drew looked around for all that security they had promised him in the pre-production meeting.

Ramona wanted Carla to sign a paper that she wouldn’t sue or call the cops if Ramona laid some smack down on her gossipy head.  Carla started flapping her hands and fingers around like she was bringing in aircraft, which sent Ramona off on a “Cop Caller” chant until Dr. Drew finally had to stand up and block Ramona’s view with his doc crotch.

Seriously.  Did he really think that would work?  Has he ever even watched this show?  Ramona just bobbed and weaved around his body like a heavyweight boxer getting ready for a KO until her face got uncomfortably near the good Doctor’s pinsky.

Yeah.  Rizzo was a little too close to the medical bag for a Bride-to-be.  Just saying.

As the two of them screeched at each other behind his back, DD tried to introduce the next montage:  Drita’s Birthday Party.

The one with the big Love vs. Carla beat down and all those bald guys running around trying to pull them both apart while people threw drinks in their faces and went off like banshees.  That birthday party.

Then it was back to Ramona and Carla, who were still having the same fight they were having when we last saw them.

Ramona called Carla a Racist, because she allegedly refers to every single person of color as “You People,” which I believe the Rev. Al Sharpton frowns upon.   A modern day KKK was pretty much how she described the situation.  Yeeouch.

Karen quickly mentioned that Carla was rude and snippy.  Carla then did some more hand signals and went in for the kill by bringing up Family.  Yes…with a capital “F.”

Oooh, Girl.  You do NOT bring up Family.

You don’t do it on The Real Housewives of New Jersey with that Manzo lady, and you certainly don’t do it when you’re Daddy’s in the Mob.  Karen even tried to make the point clear one more time before she finally blurted out that Carla wanted the Gravano Family to save her own father back in the day.

Carla claimed to not know much about what Karen meant, because she doesn’t talk “Mob” like the rest of “These Girls.”  Karen pointed out that she could easily go on Google and find out what the F*** she was talking about, and then Google changed the locks on its corporate headquarter offices.

At some point there was a lot of shizzle being tossed around regarding Ramona’s ex stealing money from her own father, but I forget exactly when Carla lobbed that fast ball at Ramona’s head.  There was so much shade being thrown at every turn that it doesn’t really matter, so you can pretty much just stick that zinger in wherever you please and it will fit like a CSI glove.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.  A buttah knife.

That’s right.  They went there.  They brought up the buttah knife scene again, where Carla had flipped a switch on Renee and threatened to cut her throat and let all her junkie pills spill out onto the table.

Dr. Drew asked Renee if she had felt threatened by the buttah knife.  Seriously.

Have you ever tried to spread butter straight from the refrigerator on a piece of toast?  If you can’t even do that, how are you going to cut someone open?  Dude.  Please.

Carla admitted that she may have overstepped her bounds by calling Renee a Junkie, but that the man she once dated had not been 100% married, whatever that meant.  Even Karen got a little WTF with that statement.  Nothing like a WTF Mob Wife Face.

Ramona countered by declaring that her ex-husband had been officially separated from his wife when she had started seeing him, which I guess would make her relationship come in somewhere around 99% when compared with Carla’s situation and ultimately make Ramona the winner for that Round.

MobMath is hard.  Luckily, before I had time to do tally the calculations, Ramona went off on Carla again.  And this time she wanted to jump her, sit on her, break off a rib and use it to pick her own teeth after eating Carla’s face like prosciutto luncheon meat.

Don’t try this at home, kids.  It’s strictly for role models.

To lighten the mood a little, Doc then gave us all a little history lesson on the Drita, Karen and Ramona triangle.  Today they all get along.  As of noon today, anyway.

That’s about as far out as I’ll commit to that one.

The next video montage was all about Renee’s Addiction.

We relived some of her time in rehab, got a grocery list of the pills she used to ingest and then welcomed her son  AJ to the couch.  Bro was still a little on the chillaxed, whatever dude side, but AJ has always stuck by his mom regardless of any bad choices she may have made in glitter blue eye shadow or sedatives.

AJ still didn’t really agree with addiction being an illness, though.  Just Stop.  Stop and then go play video games.  It’s that easy.  From the mouths of babes, I guess.

But the guy loves his mom and was headed to Miami, because it was time to move on and get a real job.  And Prada makes some sweet sunglasses.  That, too.

Then it was nothing but ManTalk and DirtyTalk for the rest of the Reunion.

Drita had let Lee back into her home now that he was out of the Halfway House.  She has guilt about what they put their children through over the years.  Lee, on the other hand, still didn’t have any guilt about cheating on her, so I wouldn’t be adding any other names to the mortgage paperwork just yet, honey.

Carla then got a quick moment to snark on Joe and his Carla 2.0 girlfriend Raquel before Dr. Drew introduced Karen’s Dbag ex Dave Seabrook to the couch.

At least this time he wasn’t chewing gum at the very front of his mouth like they do at Sports Bars when they’re checking out chick’s hooters.  But he’s still Dave.  And he’s still dating ice cold Cyborg Rebecca, who Karen has come to except but still not really understand.

Dave kinda sorta admitted that he might have been wrong for either not telling Karen about Rebecca earlier, or for leaving one of Rebecca’s thongs hanging from Karina‘s Hello Kitty bedroom ceiling fan.  It was a rather forced apology, so it wasn’t really clear where he was going with it.  But better than nothing, as they say.

Karen confirmed that she was still with music mogul Storm, and that he was just fine.

Oh yeah.  Just fine.  Big Daddy fine.  Single and Ready to Mingle fine.  With a lip lick.

MmmMmm.  Mama likes.

And then it was on to Ramona’s wedding.  If that ever happens.

Despite all the other women rolling their eyes and trying to explain how tough it is being a Prison Wife, Ramona was still dead set on marrying the incarcerated Joe Sclafani, whether he could be make it to the chapel or not.

It might be at the federal prison.  It might be at the Elks Lodge with paper cups.  It could be this year.  It could be this afternoon, so excuse me if I have to cut taping a little short and scoot over to city hall.

They have no idea when this is all going to go down.

But as for getting down…never.  Because you can’t do the nasty in a federal prison.  It’s a law.  So no conjugal visits.

After the camera crew all breathed a sigh of relief, the horny talk got Drita a little giggly and she tried to explain why she had compared Lee’s return home to having a freezer full of fresh, hard, ready to eat produce in the shape of a man’s nibblies.

According to the Food Pyramid, a person should have 3 to 5 servings a day if you know what I mean, and Drita was ready to go down on those things like a starving rabbit.

It was right about here when Big Ang finally woke up and Karen swallowed her gum.

Seriously.  I don’t think even I’m old enough to be watching this show anymore.

And that’s that.

Hurricane Sandy.  Hurricane Majewski.

Trust me.  Staten Island will rebuild and come back next season, bigger and stronger and louder and blingier than ever.

Bloop.

I mean…(Bleep.)

 

 

What the (bleep)? If I’d known this was a costume party I would have dressed up. Dammit.

 

 

 

 

Mission Control: Initiate bat s*** crazy launch sequence in 3…2…1…

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have lift off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever. Mama needs a cigarette. This way, boys…

 

 

 

 

 

OhMyGodOhMyGod! Did you see? It’s Big Ang. I Love Her!

 

 

 

 

 

I’m buggin’! Didn’t anybody read the (bleepin’) invite? It said costumes!

 

 

 

 

 

I know, right? Trust me…I’d rather be smashing this vodka bottle on your face.

 

 

 

Seriously.

Why do these women keep having parties?

Haven’t they learned anything in three seasons?  Parties = Fat Lips.

And not the Big Ang ”Boop Boop” good kind.

The Season Finale of Mob Wives was everything that we’ve come to know and love about Staten Island over the years.  Big hair, big earrings, big attitudes and big throw downs with even bigger bouncers swooping in from seemingly nowhere to break it all up before anyone loses an eyeball or an extension.

The Mob Wives we know and love was finally back.  And just under the wire, thank you.

All season long, the gossipy Love vs. Carla train had been threatening to careen out of control, taking down any innocent bystanders unlucky enough to be standing on the platform when it jumped the tracks.  It just needed a catalyst.

And nothing gets a Mob Wives party going like…well…like a party, I guess.

Whenever these women all gather together, it’s asking for trouble.  Big trouble.  And Drita‘s 1980′s-themed birthday party was no exception.

They may be living in a Material World, but trust me…Love is a Battlefield.

(And that, kids, is called a smooth as buttah segue.  The More You Know.)

We started out with Ramona and Karen on a search for some vintage ’80s Wear, which didn’t look much different than anything from the Spring 2013 Staten Island Collection.

But whatever.  We don’t judge here.

It was their first time together since the infamous Pre-Nup Party that Karen had arranged, which had either been an innocent chance for the women to collect valuable financial information or an opportunity for Karen to sneak in a couple of pokes at Ramona’s upcoming nuptials.  Nobody was really sure what that whole evening had been all about, if you asked around.

But thanks to loose cannon Love Majewski, nobody had much time to worry about any potential ulterior motives because they were all too distracted by her going completely Cray Cray on one of Ramona’s friends who had just happened to look her way from the other side of the bar that evening.

I mean Crayola Cray Cray.  Full Box of 64 Cray Cray.  With a built-in shiv sharpener.

I’ll Stab You To Death Cray Cray.

And now Love had been invited to Drita’s party.  The same party that Carla had been invited to.  Both of them were invited.  You might want to get out your brass knuckle iPhone, open the calculator app and do the math on that one.

Needless to say, both women were a little on edge thinking about how the whole thing could go down, but Karen felt that she could tell Love to simply chill out at the party and it would happen, in much the same way I can will a herd of Pamplona cattle to come to a dead halt during the Running of the Bulls.  Because I can do that, you know.

Good luck with that, Karen.

Speaking of Carla.  She and soon-to-be Ex Joe met up for some pizza and legal talk.

Divorce.  The least of her problems, as she quickly stated.  Turns out that even the end of her marriage was less stressful than the ongoing Majewski gossip mill, and now that Love was publicly accusing Joe and his Dad of stealing the Angel Wings logo right off of her wrist tattoo while she slept, the whole thing was just about to boil over.  You wanna come at me?  Come at me.

Next we hit the highway with the Birthday Girl herself, cruising around town, talking hands-free on her cell and experiencing a mash-up of black & white Film Noir flashbacks as she prepared for the arrival of husband Lee, who was due to be released from the Halfway House in a matter of weeks.

Hearing him on the other end of the phone always messed with Drita’s head a bit, and this time was no different.  Lee knew it was time to make a change, and Drita was willing to risk it all one more time for the sake of her family.

Granted, she risked it all ‘one more time’ the LAST time he came out of jail and then ended up back in the slammer after approximately 2 1/2 hours of freedom.  But maybe second time’s a charm, because he sounded pretty sincere.  And Drita really wanted to get some ManCandy back in her house before she lost her mind and chewed through all the throw pillows.  So they both agreed to give this whole thing one mo’ try.

As Drita was getting all giggly and distracted on the road, Ramona and her white teeth were across town trying on gowns for a wedding that may or may not actually take place.  And even if it does, there’s no guarantee that there’ll actually be a groom in any of the album photos.

The whole thing is a little iffy.  Boyfriend “Joe Boy” Sclafani was still working on getting permission for his quickie release (…get your mind out of the gutter, please…) which would then trigger a domino effect wedding extravaganza that would need to be pulled off within 48 hours or so.  Which, as has been noted previously, is barely enough time for the caterer to thaw out any of the good stuff.

But Ramona was determined to find a dress and get married, even if Joey had to Skype the whole thing in from the prison’s workout yard.  Not an ideal situation, but if worse came to worst at least you know the groom’s party would be seriously jacked-up.  Like on HBO.  Just don’t get me started on the Bachelor Party, if you know what I mean.

Ramona took her BBFF (…Boy Best Friend Forever…duh…) Sammy to Bridal Reflections and forced him to sit through more costume changes than a Celine concert until she finally found the perfect gown.

Despite not having the solid support of friends (…I’m talking to you, Gravano…) or family (…I’m talking to you, la Rizzo famiglia…) Ramona loved Joey and couldn’t wait to marry her man.  Sammy just smiled a lot.

Then it was time to get ready to Par-tay.

I guess everyone had their own interpretation of what the ’80s were like, because I’m not really sure where they were all going with their costume choices.  Big Ang hit the salon for some big hair, and then wrapped herself in white leather and a fur coat that I swore she wore last week.  But she’s Big Ang.  She can do no wrong.

While Karen and Ramona were getting their hair and makeup applied, no one had yet heard from Love.  Was she still coming to the party?

Karen had received a text earlier in the day, and in it Love casually mentioned that she may have broken her hand when she slammed it through a wall and hit a steel beam after imagining that she had seen Carla’s face appear in the sheet rock.  The way Elvis or Jesus faces always show up in bags of Cheetos.

Except it was Carla’s face.  And it was in sheetrock.

For all you mathematicians out there…Cray to the umpteenth power of Cray.

Karen hit Love up on her Sidekick, who instantly picked up and already appeared to be sharpening another box of Crayolas with her good hand.  She had broken six bones, but didn’t give a F*** and was more than ready to unleash on Carla if she so much as pointed a finger in her face.  Love then proceeded to ramble on in some language that I’d never heard before and then hung up on Karen.

Ramona blurted out that she was afraid Love and Carla would start fighting like sea urchins, which made such little sense that I had to get up and walk around for a minute just to decompress.

Sometimes, I tell you.  These women.

Finally…the party!

Carla and Big Ang showed up first.  As in…nobody else was there yet.  Apparently all the traffic lights worked in their favor that night.

Ramona and Karen arrived next, all Material Girl-ed up and ready to get their MTV Veejay on.  Hey…at least they looked like they were in costume.

I’m still not sure who Carla and Big Ang were channeling.  Carla kind of looked like she was wearing Cher‘s Turn Back Time bodysuit, but you couldn’t see her butt cheeks and she wasn’t straddling a warship cannon.  But I think it was Cher.

Drita was late to her own party, but she had a ton of bracelets to put on…so cut her some slack.  Right behind her were Renee and BFF Nikole.  Renee’s ginormous hair and Nikole’s exposed boobs actually arrived first, followed shortly thereafter by the rest of their costumes.  Just.  Whoa.

Renee didn’t really want to be there with Carla, but she was taking one for the team as they stood on opposite sides of the room and watched each other like it was a turf war.

Or stray cats in heat marking bushes.

And then the Crazy Plane landed.  Put your trays in the upright position and pray that the oxygen masks fall from the overhead compartments.

Love was in the hizzle.  In a cast.  And already losing her shizzle.

Before the first appetizer, she announced that she wanted to rip Carla’s face off like a Bath Salt Zombie.  And then eat it.  Maybe some birthday cake would have taken the edge off, honey.

Drita and Big Ang then suddenly decided that they needed a smoke and left the building.

Really?  Now?  Let’s review.  A couple of things you should never do:  Leave a candle unattended.  Leave a baby in the car.  Leave relaxer on your hair too long.  And leave the building when Love Majewski and Carla Facciolo are in the same room.

Karen tried to play Switzerland and complimented Love on her behavior.  Wrong.  Love wasn’t behaving.  She was waiting.  Because she demands respect.  Expects Respect.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.  Find out what it means to me.

For whatever reason, Karen then decided that she should sit Carla and Love down at the same table to discuss their issues.  Nice work, Gravano.

Boom.

Love loses her shiz, cracks Carla across the face with her cast and then the whole party went total Mob Mosh Pit in under 7 seconds.

Screaming.  Yelling.  Hair pulling.  Ramona chanting ‘No Fighting No Fighting’ like that would make a bit of difference in the grand scheme of things.

Full disclosure:  I’ve watched that scene about 100 times so far, and I have no idea where all those security guys came from so fast.  Trap doors?  Ceiling panels?

Backwards down the wall like Batman and Robin used to do?  BAMF-ing out of thin air like Nightcrawler did in the X-Men movie?

No clue.

But there were a million of them.  And mostly all bald for some reason.  All pushing and shoving and knocking over all the skinny VH1 sound guys who were just trying to keep their wobbly microphone sticks in the air.

Karen lost her nutty when some big doof wouldn’t let her near Carla.  She didn’t want Carla to think it was a set up and needed to find her.  (Wasn’t this the same script from the time everyone pounded on Drita?)

Carla’s hand was bleeding like a mutha.  Drita and Big Ang came back in from having a Newport and thought they were at the wrong party.  Then Drita lost her nutty.

There was a lot of nutty losing going on that night.

Finally, one of the bald guys managed to pry Love off of Carla’s face and separated the two of them.  Drita took Carla to a meeting in the ladies room while Karen went outside and jumped in Love’s getaway car to lay down some smack.

Love.  Is.  Insane.

End of story.

Back inside, it was Renee of all people, who came to Carla’s aid before she bled out on the carpet.  Before her time at Transitions, Nurse Renee knew that vodka could numb anything, so she doused Carla’s hand with liquor and patched her up in a snap.  It was almost like they kinda sorta bonded and made up in an emergency triage tent.

Deep down, Renee is a good person, and she proved it to Carla.  They let the building happier than when they arrived.

Drita stuck around to have her cake and pretty much set the building on fire with the biggest sparkler candle evah.

Love and her bag full o’ crazy squealed off down the highway, never to be seen again.

(Spoiler Alert:  Love just got fired from next season, and un-invited to the recent Reunion Show taping.  So see ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.)

Karen left, more determined than ever to get her father out of prison.  Ramona set her sights on a Summer wedding, with or without a groom.

And Big Ang?  She likes the Wise Guys, but not the drama.

Staten Island just survived Hurricane Sandy and the Mob Wives.

That is (bleeped) up.

See you at the Reunion, bitches.

 

 

Don’t even tell me that old man taped over my Flock of Seagulls album.

 

 

 

 

And then I was all like Pew! Pew! Pew! Zowie! Pow! with my Renee Superhero Wrist Rockets on that sorry bitch.

 

 

 

 

Seriously? So you’re telling me I built you this whole Broadway Bedroom theater and you won’t sing 42nd St.?

 

 

 

Honestly lady, the last time I saw a balloon like this it was taking James Franco to Oz.

 

 

 

 

You know I’m totally jealz of that kid’s bedroom. I could do my whole Las Vegas magic act up there.

 

 

 

 

I swear. All a guy has to do is put on a Pee Wee Herman tie and I turn to warm spreadable buttah.

 

 

 

 

 

Greetings, Earthling. We are BeccaBot. Mission: Assimilate.

 

 

 

 

Attention Staten Island Mall Shoppers.

We have a lost little girl who has not been seen for over a week.

If anyone finds Carla Facciolo, please bring her to the nearest cashier.  And while you’re at it, feel free to let her know that Love Majewski is talking some serious shizzle behind her back.

Seriously.  Carla’s missing.  I didn’t see her anywhere.  Did you?

If it wasn’t for the opening credits and Luscious Love’s non-stop Carla bashing, I’m not sure that anyone would have remembered Joe‘s Ex used to be one of the Mob Wives.

But there’s a storm or two brewing, one of which should blow her back into town fairly soon.

Maybe not the Arizona dust storm that started spinning around this week.  That one was confined to Karen‘s old neighborhood and almost took down a few trees and a Fembot.

But Storm Love is growing larger every time we check the map, gaining strength as it pulls in anyone who will listen.  So things are definitely about to go down in town.

We started the latest episode back in Arizona, where it was clear that we were going to max out our frequent flier miles jumping back and forth between the desert and the island this week.

What I first assumed was a Target distribution center warehouse actually turned out to just be a ginormous U-Haul storage unit with shiny red doors where Karen and her brother Gerard had stored about 374 boxes of State’s Evidence against their Dad, Sammy “The Bull” Gravano.

As you’ll remember, Gerard had come up with a possible loop hole in the court case against Sammy which could have him back out on the street in less time than it’s gonna take me to change my front door locks and get a new license.

(Umm.  They know this website is all just in fun…right?  Tell me they do.)

But first, Karen and Ramona needed to sort through mountains of legal paperwork and old beta VHS tapes (…whoa…acid flashback…) in hopes of finding some information that might help Gerard prove his point that Dad had received more time in The Hole than originally agreed upon.

Whereas most normal storage units would be full of old school clothes and action figures, this one was packed floor to ceiling with the kind of stuff that I thought should have probably stayed in a police evidence locker.  Boxes and boxes of blurry television news reports and scratchy taped conversations between Sammy and anyone who would listen were piled up behind the doors.

Did anyone else find this a little odd?  Or is it just me?  I mean, if the Feds were taping their phone conversations, why would they turn around and hand the cassettes back to the family in a Zappos box?  Isn’t that something that should be on a shelf with those crown-shaped Latin King dashboard air fresheners and ziplocked bricks of cocaine?

I swear.  If Karen’s book goes on second markdown at Barnes & Nobles, I’m going to have to finally give in and pick it up just so I can figure out what’s really going on here.

Armed with a trunk full of boxes, Karen and Ramona headed back home to pop in a cassette and do some research.

Yes.  Pop in a cassette.  If you have to ask, then you’re too young to be watching this show anyway.  Go txt ur BFF.  I’m sure Bieber just had another meltdown somewhere.

You’re only allowed to finish reading this if you remember holding your tape recorder up to the radio when your favorite song came on so you could make a mixtape for your girlfriend, which was a lot of wasted work considering that should would dump you over the summer between 7th and 8th grade and leave you with no date for the junior high prom that year even though you already had your Chess King suit picked out.

Bitch.  TMI?

Back in Staten Island, Renee was continuing her post-rehab recovery.  Turns out that a few of her counselors felt that she may still have some anger issues that needed to be addressed when she got home.

You think?

To help release some of that aggression, Renee had decided to enroll in a Krav Maga class, which is a fancy name for Israeli self-defense.  And she thought it would be a great mother/son bonding opportunity, if she could figure out how to get AJ off his bed.

Good luck with that, Mom.  Somebody needs to take that kid in to have his blood sugar levels checked.  Dude is always tired.  And mopey.  Tired and mopey.

But really, who could blame him for never wanting to leave that room?  Did you see that set up?  WTF?  It was like a Kids From Fame wet dream.  Please tell me that was not his bedroom, or he’s going to need way more than just one Krav Maga class to protect himself in gym class.

It was like his own personal jazz-handed Broadway stage.  Newsprint curtains.  Red velvet drapes and a big black box that said “Times Square” for some reason.  I can totally see AJ in his boxers and Prada specs re-enacting last week’s episode of Glee after Mom has gone to bed.

Don’t Stop Believing, kid.

Seriously.  Whoever decorated that room must have found Renee’s meds in the trash while she was in Florida.  Needless to say, AJ wasn’t going anywhere.

But cut him some slack…he probably had a sold-out matinee performance.

So Renee and Drita hit the Krav Maga mats on their own to learn the correct way to jam the flat part of your wrist into someone’s throat.  And the pointy part of your elbow into someone’s throat.  And the boney part of your knee up into someone’s junk.

It’s truly a shame AJ missed the opportunity to share in that mother/son moment.

Then we were off to the Billiards Bar for a quick Carla bashing, even though she was still technically MIA.

Though Love had yet to actually meet Carla face to face, the infamous Five Borough gossip mill already had her hatin’ on Mama Facciolo.  And Drita was already getting sick of hearing about it every time they all got together.

Renee, on the other hand, will always be Renee so she couldn’t get enough of the gossip.  As for me, I just couldn’t get enough of Renee’s craft glitter eye shadow and sweatshirt combo, so I wasn’t really paying as much attention to what was actually being said.

Martha Stewart was right, though.  Glitter does make everything Better.

Next, we left the pool hall and headed back to Arizona, where Karen was finally going to meet up with Dave‘s new girlfriend Rebecca.

Since the only thing that Karen really knew about Rebecca so far was that she had a tendency to misplace her thongs after sex, it was anyone’s guess as to how this meeting was going to go down.  Dave had only given Karen a few details, so most of her info had come from daughter Karina, who had been intentionally teeny bopper vague.

This should be good.  Karen meet Rebecca.  Rebecca meet Karen.

Oh, hell no.  Bitch stole my ombré.

Yup.  Rebecca was rocking the same new tonal fade that Karen was trying to trademark.  Dave never mentioned that.

He also never mentioned that Rebecca may, or may not, be a robot.

Expressionless.  No optical dilation.  Not impressed or threatened by Karen’s scary Mob background.  We are not programmed to feel emotion.

From what I could tell, it looked like Karen spent the entire meeting trying to figure out which side of Rebecca’s head housed the latch that swings open when her computer chip software needs an upgrade.

Like they used to do to Data on Star Trek: The Next Generation.  How cool was that?

Since she couldn’t get a rise out of her, Karen figured the next best thing would be to invite Rebecca back to the house for a get-together with all Karen’s Arizona friends.  No robot could overtake that many people at once, right?  So now there would not only be safety in numbers, but also more people available to try and figure out why Rebecca never blinks.

And speaking of artificial intelligence…and boobs.

Back home in SI, Love and Big Ang took all their saline goodness to the lingerie shop because the mysterious Fate was arriving from Las Vegas soon, and Love wanted some new unmentionables to impress her ex-boyfriend, in case…you know…just in case.

Bow chicka bow wow.  Time for your bra fitting, girls.  Pop those tops.

Using the same industrial strength tape measure that civil engineers use when they construct bridge trestles, some brave sales girl figured out that Love was a 34G/H.

And that Big Ang was carting around a pair of 38Js.

Yeah.  J.  As in Jesu—–!  Lawd have mercy!  It made my back hurt just to watch.

After a little more Carla bashing and pastie swinging it was finally date night, and Love was a nervous wreck.  Until Fate arrived at the restaurant.

Then it was just Reality Gold.  Hot Mess Reality Gold.

It appears that Mr. Fate likes to dress up, because there was a lot going on over on the other side of that table.

Studded Michael Jackson hat.  Pee Wee Herman tie.  Miles Standish big white pilgrim collar.  Steve Urkel suspenders.  America’s Got Talent goatee and eyebrows….pick any magician from last season, it doesn’t really matter.

Dude was a human Build-a-Bear.

Love could barely contain herself.  Or her womanly bosoms.  Did you see those things trying to cannonball into her salad bowl?  Simmer down, girls.

Throughout the evening we learned that Fate was into music and having babies with other women, that Love ran away from him and was upset that he never chased her, and that together they both wrecked a Vegas hotel room while knocking boots like wild animals.

Wrecked it.  Even the front door and the television set that isn’t supposed to be able to come off the top of the dresser.

All I could picture was that scene from the new Planet of the Apes when the mean zoo guy tasers the monkeys and shoots a water hose in their faces and they all go completely Rachel Zoe Ba-na-nas in the cage.

But it was at The Bellagio instead of the zoo.  And one of the apes was a 34G/H.

Check, please.

We finished off the episode with a scene from MTV’s Real World: Arizona.  Or at least that’s what I thought at first.  Karen’s got some cray cray friends.

They were booty popping on the coffee table and getting their 15 minutes of Mob Wives fame like the whole thing was getting posted on Facebook.  Everyone except the BeccaBot, that is, who stood motionless off to the side as if she was drawing power from the fluorescent lighting above the sink.

Finally Ramona couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled Rebecca aside to try and break through her force field.  She tried all the tricks that Karen had tried, but nothing seemed to shake Rebecca’s stare.  Nothing spooked this chick.

Not threats of gang violence and retaliation.  Not ghetto slams.  Not RuPaul shade.

Nothing.  It was a draw.

Dave finally took the BeccaBot home so she could recharge overnight, but the party went on without them for awhile longer.  Karen and Ramona weren’t about to join the Rebecca Fan Club, but they did salute her balls of steel with a toast at the end of the evening.  So I guess that counts for something.

And the search for the missing Carla continues.

The girls are all getting tired of listening to Love go on and on…and on…so they think it’s best that Love and Carla meet face to face and get to the bottom of all the gossip.

I dunno.  Feels like that storm is getting closer.

Better board up your windows and hide the buttah knives.

Just in case.