DanThat'sCool!

 

 

And then she wrote “I’m going to live with Dad, and white iPhones are for Eurotrash and the Shahs of Sunset.”

 

 

 

Somewhere around the second bottle of Percocet was when I started hanging out with Manti Te’o and his nice girlfriend.

 

 

 

Whoa. Whoa. Slow down there with all the indictments, Slick. I’m running out of ink here.

 

 

 

 

Trust me. Those things were so small I couldn’t have shot ‘em with a (bleepin’) laser scope.

 

 

 

 

I’m dying. I can’t live my life surrounded by this Douche Bag Darkness anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

You can’t change the Devil, Renee. Come with us and you’ll live forever.

 

 

 

Hope you packed your overnight bag and had the Staten Island Post Office hold all your mail, because the Mob Wives were putting on some frequent flyer miles this week.

With Buffalo, Pennsylvania and Florida all mapped out on their AAA TripTicks, Renee and Drita crisscrossed the East Coast while the remaining Wives stayed home and ate their way around the city.  It was an adventure no matter where you turned.

Think Dora the Explorer: Gangland Edition.

The journey started out locally as Drita, Carla and Big Ang hit the downtown nail salon scene for a Buff & Bitch session, where Ang got to show off her new temporary curls and Carla got to slam Renee a few more times.

Despite going through the hassle of changing the house locks and installing a new state of the art security system to replace the previous state of the art system that had worked so very well, Renee had decided that she could no longer live in an environment that reeked of RatSnitch and Eau de Home Invasion and recently moved into new digs just around the corner from Carla.

You heard me.  Out of the entire city, Renee ended up with a crib in the same ‘hood, and Carla was not down with the vibe, yo.

As the nail techs all pretended to not speak English while actually memorizing every word of the gossip for later that evening (…”she in salon today, and they huuuuuge“…) the Wives discussed Renee’s decision to enter rehab and compared notes on other famous rehabbers.

Big Ang’s sanitation worker husband Neil had done 28 days for drinking beer, while her son AJ was currently 5 months into his spin-off series court ordered cleanse.  Drita and Ang fully supported Renee’s decision to leave for Florida, while Carla was just happy to have her out of the neighborhood for a month.

Next summer’s block party should be a hoot.

While Carla was slapping on a few coats of sparkle polish and top coat, husband Joe Ferragamo was across town getting ready to slap her with some not so sparkly divorce papers.

Now that he was out of prison and had somehow miraculously found enough cash for a new three story home, Joe was looking to finally cut himself loose from Carla and begin his life with girlfriend Raquel.  And the easiest way to do that was to meet up with his lawyer at some diner, because public places are always the best spots to draw up legal documents and get waffles.

As long as we’re talking shop, I’m just going to go on legal record and say that I hope Lawyer Dude’s cases are tighter than his tie knots, because that was the loosest, sloppiest example of a Half Windsor I’ve ever seen.  It was like that tie you had in high school that you only wore once a year to the prom that you kept hanging in your closet, already looped up and ready to go, and just pulled it over your head because you’d never remember how to tie it a second time.  It was like that.  But for grown ups.

And on top of his bad tie, the poor guy’s food was getting cold as he scrambled to write down every indictment that the courts had thrown at Joe over the years.  Seems as though Joe got “pinched” quite a few times, and Lawyer Dude was having a hard time keeping up with the checklist.  This whole process could take awhile.

They called it “unfinished business.”  Check, please.

Next, it was off to Florida.

As the other AJ and his girlfriend Sydney tried to lasso his Mom and trick her into getting in the car like you do when it’s Vet Day and your dog is spazzing out, Renee was already melting down and she hadn’t even made it out the front door yet.

Karen and Ramona were accompanying her to the airport, and since they were 47 seconds late, Renee was losing her marbles.  Not one by one.  The whole bag.  All at once.  And some had rolled under the refrigerator, never to be seen again.

Did you ever see that famous I Love Lucy scene where everyone is trying to get out of the house when Lucy goes into labor with Little Ricky?  Suitcases flying everywhere, people bumping into each other and everyone freaking out?  Remember that one?

It was like that, but with waaay more F Bombs and Newport Lights.

And for some reason, when you are going to rehab they don’t really approve of you taking pills before you get there, so Renee was having a rough time getting out the door before Karen and Ramona finally showed up, looking like Secret Service agents arriving to escort the First Lady to her limo.

There was some additional drama trying to get the Nissan hatch closed, a few more nasty F Bombs and then one last swift kick to AJ’s butt before they finally pulled away from the curb.

I’m not sure I would have put Renee behind the wheel in her present mental state, but I guess that guaranteed she wouldn’t jump out the window and run off into the woods before they got to JFK.  Somehow they made it to the airport in one piece, said their goodbyes, and Renee and AJ jetted off to Florida.

Speaking of losing a few marbles…two, to be exact…

Over at Karen’s apartment, my exceptionally bosomy new Mob girlfriend Love Majewski showed up to practice her makeup magic and drop a few bombshells at the same time.

After a little ManBashing between the two women, Love let us know that back in the day her ex-fiancé Ray Merolle had been arrested in Arizona, which was kind of ironic considering that Karen’s (..ex?…) boyfriend Dave was currently squatting in her house in that same state.

When Love found out that Ray had cheated on her, she took a 9 millimeter gun and shot him.  Or more accurately, around him.  She made him think that she was aiming for his marbles, but she only shot around him to prove that she still loved him.

Don’t even try to process that one.  Just go with it.

But now Love was starting to regret not picking off those two jawbreakers like tin cans under a post, because she had just found out that Ray had been hiding 3 year old twins somewhere, which were products of a little sumthin sumthin he stashed away before going off to prison.

I know, right?  When Suze Orman says get your affairs in order, she ain’t kidding.  I always thought she meant find your proof of  jury duty letter and put it in a box, but she meant freeze your boys.

And it appears that Ray froze them in two different Tupperware containers, because now there were two baby mamas running around out there with Ray #1 and Ray #2.

I’m not really sure how twins ended up with two different baby mamas, because she didn’t really get into it before finishing Karen’s eyeliner.  Plus, I was so surprised that they actually let you Ice, Ice Your Babies in prison that by the time I realized how odd the whole story was, we were already over at Drita’s place.

The day was finally here.  It was time for Drita and her two daughters to go see Daddy Lee in prison, and everyone was having their own I Love Lucy moment as they dragged pillows and stuffed animals into the car like they were going to a sleepover.

I’m not saying that crime pays, but it sure seemed as though bank fraud might be an easier, faster way to get into that prison than actually driving there.

It took them For.  Ever.

And that was just to get to the hotel.

As the gang registered at Heritage Suites for the night, Renee was finally at Transitions for the introductory Freshman Hazing portion of her own check-in.

One by one the counselors and doctors grilled her on subjects ranging from remembering the extensive list of drugs in her system to über personal information that I would have just lied about.  It was pretty intense, and made you realize that rehab is the real deal.

Right about now was when the producers must have realized they had forgotten Carla, because all of the sudden we got to see her walk her dog.

Exciting stuff.

Then it was back to Drita as she and the girls all piled into what looked like one of President Obama‘s bullet proof vans for the long drive to the Pennsylvania prison.

For.  Ever.

One.  Was that suitcase full of the dollar bills and quarters that she had mentioned she was bringing to Lee for the prison vending machines?  Why else would they need to bring a suitcase for a 5 hour visit when they would be turning around and going right back to the hotel?  I know Lee said he needed underwear.  But that would have been a ton o’ Hanes.

Two.  That little pipsqueak Gizelle is so freaking cute that I just want to slap something.  I mean, redoinkulously cute.  I wanted to rescue her from the “Lifestyle” and ship her to TLC for a pageant.  She’s already got the hair accessories.

Redoinkulous.

Back home, Karen and Ramona managed to find the noisiest restaurant on the entire Island to meet for lunch.

Karen had just received a text from her daughter Karina, who announced that she was staying in AZ with Dave.  Karina also asked her Mom to not confront Dave on why and how a random thong had ended up on her bedroom floor.

Eeew.  Just the thought of her Dad doing the Nasty with his new girlfriend in his tweenage daughter’s bedroom.

And then imagine them going at it while Justin Bieber watched from a Tiger Beat poster taped on the wall with hearts and unicorn stickers.

Double Eeew.

Ramona’s answer to every problem is usually to hurt something or somebody, so you already knew her response to all that mess.

Then it was back to Pennsylvania.  Five hours later.

The visit with Lee went amazeballs, and Drita and the girls couldn’t have been happier.  During a pit stop at Kelly’s Diner, Drita hit Big Ang up on her Sidekick and rambled on and on about the day like she was in a Lifetime movie.  They even had the same music.

And yes, I got all excited thinking they were at the same Kelly’s Diner that’s in Port Charles, but then I remembered that General Hospital isn’t real.

Bummer.

Back home, again, my girl Love dropped by Big Ang’s house for no reason other than to let us see she really is crazycakes, and that Ang was rocking a very on-trend side part.

Fashion tips, too.  You’re welcome.

You knew Karen wasn’t going to be able to just sit back and go with the Dave Flow, so she got him on the phone and confronted him about his new girlfriend.  Every single conversation that she has with Dave starts and ends the same, so you didn’t really miss anything if you walked away for a moment.  She did say that she had always been the “Most Loyalest Person” which kind of made my head hurt, and then I don’t remember much after that.  She likes to dramatically throw her phone into the pillow after she hangs up.  I noticed that last time, too.

Since the visit with Lee had gone so well, Drita couldn’t keep her head screwed on straight now.  She loved him.  She hated that she loved him.  She loved the old Lee, not the new Lee.  But what about the jail-free future Lee?

Oy vey.

We finished off back in Florida with Renee’s first group therapy field trip, where everyone sat on a picnic table and tried to shake off their personal demons in the woods.

Once everyone got past the hideous tie the group leader was wearing (…not a good week for neckwear…) they stood Renee up against a tree in front of them and ran an impromptu mini Redneck Intervention.

Carla wasn’t a douche bag.  She was the Devil.  And you can’t change the Devil.

Cast her evil powers away.  Begone, Bitch.

OhNoTheyDin’t.  They went there.

…27 days, and counting.

 

 

Snookie, JWoww and Deena from the Future return to present day Staten Island to smush some Juicers and shop Forever 21.

 

 

 

 

WTF? “You’d look great with bangs” they said. “Trust me” they said.

 

 

 

 

OhMyGawd. Stop. Seriously. Did you see that wig? That’s what I look like when my dog falls asleep on my head! I can’t.

 

 

 

They did The Bash. They did the Botox Bash. The Botox Bash. It was a Big Lip smash.

 

 

 

 

Hell, yeah. I would totally shovel this s*** down like a Bath Salt Zombie if I could move my face.

 

 

 

If I stay perfectly still maybe she’ll pick up a different scent and go find somebody else to chew on.

 

 

 

 

When it comes to Wiseguys and Petco, Mama always says sniff out the biggest sausage or go home hungry.

 

 

 

Pack it up.  And plump it up.

Stick a “For Sale” sign in the ground and a needle in your face, and there you have it.

You just summed up the latest episode of Mob Wives.

It was all about moving on, moving out and not moving your forehead as the Wives got right down to business and Botox as soon as the credits stopped rolling.

You know I love me some Mob Wives, but I have no idea what was going on this time around.  It was just cray cray.

After last week’s I Can’t Believe It’s Not Buttah knife fight between Carla and Renee, the first step was to get Ramona up to speed.  Since she had not attended Big Ang‘s brunch and therefore had missed Carla working her stubby little margarine lightsaber like some kind of hoochie Princess Leia, Ramona needed to scoot over to Renee’s for the recap.

And who better to accompany her than Karen.  And Karen’s new hot mess of a wig.

Seriously.  What was that all about?  It kind of looked like the hair you get at iParty on Halloween to change up last year’s Naughty Nurse outfit.  You know you don’t want to spend too much money on it because it either ends up on the curb like hairy roadkill or caught on that jagged piece of metal that’s always poking out of a Motel 6 screen door.

It also sorta looked like that Jessica Simpson QVC bang clip-on apparatus that might have had some issues on the ride over.  Maybe the window was cracked down a little too far.  They smoke, you know.

But then again, it also looked as though maybe KG had just gotten back from the rough part of town and gotten a weave sewn in approximately 1/4″ above her natural hairline.

OhNoSheDin’t.

We’ll probably never really know what was going on up there.  Girl, pleez.  Next time, just leave it to the sistahs.

Renee filled Ramona in on all the (bleepity bleep bleep) name calling and accusations from the night before, as Karen kept getting her new bangs caught on her eyelashes.

Those things should come with White Girl directions.

Ramona got all Italian gangstah like they used to do on Mob Wives: Chicago (…oh, Leah DeSimone.  Gone too soon…) and either called Carla a Butana or Butanna or Putana.  They all kinda sorta mean the same thing if you do your research, and no matter where I looked online I realized that everyone had a different opinion on which was the correct spelling and pronunciation and meaning.

After about 15 minutes I also realized that only teen age boys should spend that much time Googling the Italian swear word for “whore,” and I decided to clear my Safari history and move on to Carla’s pool like it never happened.

Over at Casa Butana…or Butanna or Putana…Carla was putting her twins through some serious interrogation regarding their Dad and his new girlfriend, Raquel.

Fresh out of prison, Joe had already somehow managed to score a fairly attractive girlfriend and a new three-story home.

Yeah.  Three stories.  I thought the same thing.

I’ve never been to prison, and I’m barely making rent on 2 1/2 rooms.  What’s wrong with this picture?

Watching little Carmen and Jo Jo boing around in their floaties and inflatable donut rings almost made you forget all the bad stuff they’ve had to endure in their short little lives.  But then Carla kept bringing it all back up again, and at the same time I noticed that 10 year old Mini-Me Joe already had his first gold Guido chain when most kids his age still wear those edible Sweet Tart necklaces.  So there you go.

Down the street, it appeared to be Take Your Dog Shopping Day as Big Ang and Drita hit up the local pet shop for some gossip and kibbles.

Drita’s little yapper Lucky Santangelo was more than overly excited to see Big Ang show up with her pocket pup Louis, and almost wagged himself into a coma before they even made it into Pet Oasis.  It should also be noted that sometime over the Summer Louis had apparently gone from gangster to gangstah rapper and now suddenly wanted to be addressed as Lil Louis.

Or Snoop Doggy Lou.  Whatev.  It’s a dog.

There was also a potential romantic interest creating what could prove to be quite the puppy love triangle moving forward, because Big Ang had also added a purebred mix of pink Hello Kitty and Sissy Dawg to her barnyard.

Boys.  Meet Chanel.  Kind of makes you wish you still had your marbles, huh?

As Drita and Ang rehashed the buttah knife drama again, the only thing of any importance was that for some reason, out of the store’s entire inventory stock, somebody chose to film Big Ang against a colorful backdrop of PetSolution Wee Wee Pads.

The ones you tinkle on.

I’ll just go on record as saying that the puppy they show on the classic Wee Wee Pad How-To youtube video is sooo freaking cute that if the Humane Society was open this late at night I would be down there right now grabbing anything that didn’t already know how to pee outside.

Yes.  I Googled Italian dirty words and the aromatic placemats that baby dogs unload on, just for you people.

I said I did it.  I didn’t say I was proud.

At least not as proud as Carla was when she hit the boardwalk with Big Ang and Drita, dressed in whatever the f*** that sheer thing was that she found in her costume closet.

It was like Cher took one of her back-up dancers and one of her favorite drag queens down to the waterfront for cocktails to celebrate selling out the San Francisco Pride Parade closing ceremonies in under 25 minutes.

I can’t.  I just can’t.

It wasn’t even the butt-less Turn Back Time outfit.  I don’t know what it was.  And I certainly don’t have any idea where you would go to find it, much less find it and then decide you want to own it.

And Drita was there, dripping in what appeared to be one of Liberace‘s gold chainlink hairnets, if Liberace had been allowed anywhere near a boy’s prep school cafeteria and needed a hairnet while he plopped wieners on a tray.

Even Big Ang seemed Big Angier than normal, with those googly eyed sunglasses and a dress made from the same fabric they hot glue to moccasins at those highway off-ramp souvenir joints.

The whole thing was such a hot mess that it made Karen’s iParty wig seem pretty tame in comparison, and almost made me miss the part when Lee called Drita on her cell phone while the girls were tossing back funky martinis.

He is getting out of jail in 6 months and Drita wasn’t sure what to do next.

I say return that chainlink thing, and then worry about Lee.

And I’m all set with the getting dirty on the phone visuals, too.  TMI.  I think I just figured out how Lucky Santangelo got his name, and why he never blinks.

Where’s my Wee Wee Pad when I need it, Mama?

And don’t prisoners have to make their calls from a public phone in the hallway with a guard watching them?  Let that one sit in your brain for a moment and then try to get some sleep tonight.

Back at Renee’s, AJ had just returned from his grandfather’s court hearing.  Thanks to Junior going all RatFace for the Feds last year, Renee’s Dad had been caught in the fallout and carted off to jail right before she had that big meltdown.

Grandpa had spoken at the hearing, via a note, and told Renee and AJ that he didn’t blame them for anything that had happened.  We then got our weekly awkward Mob Wives Moment when Renee spoke about how it’s all AJ’s Dad’s fault that Grandpa got sent to jail.  It’s all Junior’s fault.

I’m thinking that maybe it also had something to do with all those years and years of breaking the law and doing Mob stuff, but maybe that’s just me.  Every week there always has to be one head scratching comment that makes you go hmmmm and wonder whether anyone really knows if crime does or doesn’t actually pay.

I leave that debate to somebody who went to law school while I was busy watching cartoons all those years.

While Grandpa was keeping busy on the inside, Joe Ferragamo was busy enjoying life on the outside.  And that included his new girl and that three story home.

After spending some time shooting hoops with Raquel, which gave me so many opportunities for jail jokes that my head almost exploded, Joe decided it was time to tell Carla that Raquel was going to move in with him.

Seriously.  Raquel asked Joe so many innocent questions about playing manly prison ball all night that I could have easily twisted every last one of them into HIGH-larious off color jokes that would have had you choking on your Starbucks.   But I was afraid your office Spam filter would block my site all week, and I know how you like to use me to kill time at work.  And you know I’m always thinking of others.

So I’ll pass on this round.  Rewind the DVR and make your own R rated movie.  I guarantee it’ll occupy the kids for hours on a snow day.

Speaking of kids.  Drita took her two little nuggets to the park, and then to meet with the realtor as she began the process of opening her own cosmetics store.  Turns out that before Lee went to the Big House the last time, Drita was a pretty big deal in the makeup industry.  Unfortunately, when Lee got sent away her stress level went up and her client list went down.  Way down.

But now she was looking to rebuild the Just Me Cosmetics Empire, if she could only find some decent store front property.

It couldn’t be as difficult as finding Renee a new home.  Not even close.

After the break-in at her house and the whole Junior fiasco, Renee wasn’t feeling safe anywhere.  Any.  Where.

So she was looking to get out of Dodge and find a new crib.  The only requirements were that it be safe, have no windows, no basement, no detached garage, bullet-proof siding, Bat Poles and a Star Trek force field bubble wrapping the entire building.

And no Dish Network.  That (bleep) never works when it rains.

Renee is scared of everything, and even Karen was at a loss as the realtor felt the color and commission drain from his own face.  To be continued.  And continued some more.

Drita had better luck, though, when Big Ang casually mentioned an open store across the street from The Drunken Monkey.

Boom.  Rented.  That was easy.

Not quite so easy, on the other hand, was telling Carla that Raquel was going to be moving in with him, which Joe quickly found out in the driveway.  Carla got all angry Butana or Butanna or Putana on his a** and then squealed off in her car, leaving a trail of dust and (bleeps) behind her as Joe went back inside to clean the house.  Because that’s what the kids say he does all the time now.  I guess that being able to use a mop instead of a prison-issued tootbrush around the tile grout probably makes the process a little easier.

We finished off the night with a Botox Bash.

Big Ang brought all the Wives together for some poking and plumping and drinking.

Nothing major.  Just the usual fillers and such.

Newbie Love Majewski even made an appearance, all wrapped in fur with a champagne flute suction cupped to her face.  Love.  Her.

I’m pretty sure she was just holding the glass to be polite around the ladies, because with those new lips she could have easily just planted that thing on her mouth and kept both hands free for appetizers.

I hate to say it, but Big Ang better start ramping up the crazy, or Love may be my new TV girlfriend.  She is whackadoodle.  And I eat that kind of shizzle up with a spoon.

Along with the lip shots and the liquid shots, the Wives also had the opportunity to have any annoying spots laser tagged off their persons if they so desired.  I assumed the Doctor meant little freckles on their necks, but before I knew what was happening Love had pulled her top off, lifted up a pair of breathtakingly ginormous jugs to the ceiling and then Jimmy Hoffa fell out onto the floor, all dazed and sweaty, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

As a little preview for next time, Renee was back home where she received a note in Junior’s handwriting, which caused her to tear off down the highway in her car.

Because that’s what they say you should do when you’re emotionally at your breaking point and about to lose your nutty.

Get behind the wheel of a car.

Bad Boys.  Bad Boys.  Good luck with that one.

 

 

You mean even the burglars didn’t want to steal this chotsky (bleep) before they ran out the back door? Go figure.

 

 

 

 

Dude. Not in front of your mother. That’s just (bleepin’) nasty.

 

 

 

 

The only thing more unsettling than that punk fingering his stress ball is this 8 foot ceramic horse watching me.

 

 

 

No. Seriously. He was (bleepin’) diddling it right in front of his mutha.

 

 

 

 

How’z about I take this buttah knife, slit your fat throat and watch all the pills fall out like a (bleepin’) Pez dispenser, you clown-faced bitch?

 

 

 

Holy (bleep.) Please tell me she’s just swinging that thing around because she brought the Nutella.

 

 

 

 

Nobody even touched the fresh Brodetto. Can’t believe I stood on my bad toes all morning for this.

 

 

 

Well it’s about (bleepin’) time.

What the (bleep) took so long?

That’s right.  The sound of deadbolt locks being replaced and network censor panic buttons being activated can only mean one thing.

Mob Wives is back.

Staten Island’s Roughneck Royalty have all returned for a new season, bringing with them even more over the top drama and questionable fashion choices, as well as a few newly injected faces thrown into the mix to keep it interesting.

The last time we had all hung out at the Drunken Monkey with the Wives, Renee was still spinning from the fallout caused by Junior turning Snitch on the Mob.  His intricately wired wrist watch and dress shirt combination had resulted in her own father being dragged off to the Big House on the same night that her ex-husband vanished into the world of Witness Protection.  And no one has seen Junior since.

In the real world Junior is probably half way across the country with different colored hair and a newly laminated license by now, but on General Hospital they tend to just stick a rubber prosthetic on your face and leave you in the same neighborhood.  So you never know.  And not knowing for certain is what makes Renee a shaky hot mess.

Shakier than on a normal day, that is.  You’ll see.

Our first glimpse back into their WiveLives came when we joined Drita and Carla and their two little pocket dogs on a boardwalk stroll.

Those two little puppies do like to pee.  Almost as much as those two grown women like to gossip.  I don’t know which pair would explode first if they weren’t allowed to satisfy their needs on an hourly basis.

After discussing the status of Monkey Mama Big Ang‘s son AJ and his current 18 – 24 month stint at rehab, they moved right to the topic du jour: Renee.

Let’s just say that there is no love lost between Carla and Renee.  None.  Especially since Carla had been hearing “on the street” that Renee had a problem with her…and Homie don’t play dat.

Ok.  Hold up.  Where are these streets that everyone keeps talking about?

Seriously.  We’re now into the third season of this show, and not one person has been able to scientifically explain the Staten Island gossip phenomenon.

Every Wife says the exact same thing during every argument right before they swing that first punch.  They heard it from 10 people in 10 neighborhoods (…Spoiler Alert: Renee throws that one in Carla’s face a little later…) but they can’t say who said it or where they heard it.

I even asked Siri where to find good gossip in Staten Island, and the Bitch just said to bring an umbrella tomorrow.  I give up.

Carla explained to Drita that Renee was nothing but a (bleepin’) pill popping junk box as her tiny dog rubbed his butt on the grass and everyone headed home for lunch, temporarily drained of all gossip and water bowl bloat.

Renee’s ears must have been ringing as she met with a locksmith over at her own home.  While she was gone on an overnight trip to Atlantic City, someone had broken into Graziano Grove and trashed up both Renee and son AJ‘s bedrooms, so she needed every lock in the house changed before she lost her mind.

Not having access to the Mob Manual myself, it was a good thing that Renee explained how Payback works on the streets.  Junior had really stuck it to a number of Staten Island’s…ahem…fine, upstanding businessmen, so she was sure that the break-in was retribution for being connected to a Rat Faced Snitch.  Having your home broken into is traumatic enough, but when the brother of the wife of the son of the uncle who Junior just sent to jail knows where you live…that has gotta suck.

One.  I’m not sure I would show the world on national television what type of new lock the guy from A&S Locksmiths brought over and how easy it is to install.  One quick Google and a paper clip and someone is back in your bedroom again.

Two.  I’m really not sure I would then walk the guy from A&S Locksmiths to the back patio door and have him announce to the world on national television that there really is no way to secure that entrance except with one of those hotel sticks that always break in half when you forget your house key at work and bust back into your own kitchen.

Three.  If you can literally just walk in the back patio door, why bother armoring up the front door like Iron Man’s pants?

Just saying.

The entire time the A&S guy was drilling and sweating it out, AJ was slumped on the couch like a free loader, getting intimate with one of those Dr. Phil stress balls while Renee blew her first nutty of the season.

 It was Round #439 between Mother and Son as they (bleeped) back and forth about Junior’s decision to choose the RatPack over his family, leaving them on opposite sides of the argument.  Again.

AJ never budged from the couch the entire time, which was just as well because then he might have had to cook or clean or help out around the house.  Or pay rent.

Shlep much?  Prada specs don’t pay for themselves, Junior.  Junior Junior, I mean.

Yeah.  There was not much love at the Graziano house that night.

But there was love to spare over at Big Ang’s house.  Love Majewski.

There was a new girl in town.  And (…allegedly…) some new boobs.  But I’ll let the gossip blogs figure that one out…we’re legit news over here.

Love went to high school with Karen and Ramona, was engaged six times and involved with the Wise Guy from The Untouchables.  (The real one, not the movie one.  Der.)

She also knows Big Ang.  But then again…who doesn’t?

Love dropped by to check on my girl Angela and see how she was doing after some toe surgery.  Our Hostess with the Mostess (…and the Biggest…) was recuperating from some gnarly ingrown toe/bone breaking thing that resulted in her feet looking like those Mexican Wrestling thumb puppets they sell on the Boardwalk.  Poor Ang’s little piggies were all individually wrapped up in gauze and decorated with magic marker smiley faces.

It was Classic Angela.

As was her new home, which was now fully furnished and decorated in so much pink and white and black that it made my eyes sting.  I always wondered who manufactured this stuff, and who buys it.

Now at least half of the mystery is solved.

Since we know that all the Wives like to eat, Renee and Drita hit up Hotel Z for some snacks, wearing identically enormous Jersey Shore hoop earrings.  Thankfully, you could still tell them apart because Renee was the one wearing the crazy psychedelic 1960′s Laugh-In dress that made my Big Ang kitchen eyes water up again.

The two Wives gossiped and noshed while discussing the break-in, complaining how the man who had lived a life of crime and then gone RatFace on them all had just caused a crime to be committed on them in retaliation.  And that wasn’t cool.  But the life of crime that led up to it and paid for the furs and the house that had just been broken into…was…well that is…umm…

Sometimes it’s better to not even attempt any in-depth analysis of this show and just move on to hardcore Carla bashing.

Renee called Carla a Sewer Whore, which I’m going to assume is worse than an above ground whore, and denied any neighborhood rumors that she had chopped up her own body in a futile attempt to look like Carla.

Just the idea that Renee would go through a life-threatening medical procedure to look like some horse faced subterranean whore who sleeps with married men was laughable.

So Renee laughed.  And got crazy eyes.

She then unleashed the season’s first “You Wanna Go To War With Me?” and life was good again in Staten Island.

Across town, the producers must have had some Go Kart tickets left over from last season because Ramona, her kids and her freshly whitestripped teeth were all back at the track doing a few laps on Family Fun Day.

Ramona’s Mystery Boyfriend Joe (…remember, you can’t do an authentic Mob show without at least two Joe’s on the payroll…) was still in jail from that unexplained traffic violation which had somehow ended in a 20 cruiser road block, and the whole soap opera was taking a toll on both her family and her mortgage check.

Because she was running low on cash and couldn’t count on ex-husband Daddy Done Diddly to cough up any child support, it was time to downsize everyone into an apartment building.

With a name like that, you’d think that Triple D would have been able to help out with cash from a gig at some Soho Jazz Club, but I guess not.  Maybe I’m just misinterpreting the nickname.  So it was one more lap around the track and then back home to check out Craig’s List.  Time is money.

Speaking of saving time and money.  If Drita could just hook up everyone on speaker phone, it would certainly save her the time of cruising all around town spreading gossip.

No sooner had she finished up one meal then she was sitting down with Carla repeating the conversation she had just had with crazy eyed Renee.  It was pretty much word for word, so if you didn’t leave the room during her lunch with Renee you already know how the scene with Carla went down.

Carla referred to Renee as a junkie and then they both ordered appetizers.  The End.

There was just enough time for one more pub crawl before brunch, so Renee, Big Ang and Karen met up to rehash the same gossip…one mo’ time…in case you missed it the first 27 times.

Side note.  Entrepreneurial Karen had apparently used some of her Mob Daughter residuals on one of those QVC Beachy Wave hair curler things, because Girlfriend was rocking a sassy new ‘do as they all sat down to dish.

Unfortunately, they didn’t get very far before newbie Love joined them at the table.

Lesson #1 in Restaurant Hosting:  You might not want to seat the woman who allegedly had gotten intimate with another woman’s husband at the same table with the scorned woman.  Especially when that woman is a time bomb like Renee Graziano.

Wha–?  Renee had heard that Love had knocked some boots with Junior back in the day.  On the streets they call it Gettin’ Intimate.  Love denied it.  Junior was no prize, thank you very much.  Oy, the dramz.

They settled it pretty quickly because everyone had to go to home and rest up for Big Ang’s brunch, which was basically an opportunity to have multiple mimosas and force Renee and Carla into hugging it out.

Good luck with that.

By the time Carla showed up at the brunch, the majority of Renee’s personalities were already busy eating.  Manners don’t matter when you’re waiting for a horse faced sewer whore, I guess.

Carla sat down.  Renee looked at her.  And then it all just went (bleep.)

Renee called her the Go To Girl.  (The one you go to at the end of the night right before the flourescent lights come back on.  Before the lights is key.)

Carla called Renee a junkie.  Everyone had a heated discussion on Webster’s definition of junkie vs. addict.  Carla was still a whore.

Renee swore that Carla had been sniffing after her cousin’s man.  Carla called Renee a junkie.  Renee declared that Carla liked to (bleep) married men.

Next thing you knew, Carla was swinging around a butter (…buttah…it’s the Island…) knife like Luke Skywalker and Drita’s eyeballs popped out.  Big Ang even tried to distract everyone with her boobs by taking off her poncho in the heat of the battle.

When Big Ang’s boobs can’t even stop traffic, then you know it’s getting ugly up in here.

Carla called Renee a junkie.  Renee (bleeped) a bunch of smack talk.

Big Ang didn’t like Twitter.  Who knew?  She’s on it enough.

And then they just stopped and had soup.  Really.  Just like that.

Like it was over and had never happened, even though Renee and Carla both claimed it wasn’t over.  Not even close.

And one is still a whore and one is still a junkie.  They said so.  Plus I heard it from 10 people in 10 neighborhoods.  So it’s gospel.

You can’t even make this (bleep) up.

They’re back.