DanThat'sCool!

 

 

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.

 

 

Seriously. That is (bleeped) up. So (bleepin’ bleeped) up, Dude. (Bleep.)

 

 

 

 

 

To think I would go against my Dad is (bleeped) up. I can’t even wire the (bleepin’) DVR.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t be Tardy for the (bleepin’) Party. Wha-? Wrong show? Seriously? (Bleep.)

 

 

 

 

 

(Bleep) off. Period.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a lot of (bleepin’) work for a spin-off. Seriously.

 

 

 

(Bleep.)

Nothing like somebody turning against their family and getting wired by the Feds to blow the dial right off the Cuss-o-Meter.

This week the Mob Wives were still feeling the after effects from Juniorgate 2012, and it wasn’t pretty.

As a recap for anyone without access to the internet, television, radio, the outside world or a CVS magazine rack, Junior Pagan recently got himself wired up like a home surround sound system and went all Federal Snitch against the Staten Island Mob.

In doing so, Junior managed to record enough static-free background noise to not only incriminate Renee’s own father, Anthony “TG” Graziano, but also blow apart his own family and guarantee that at least three VH1 executives all wet their pants as they giggled and high fived each other at the perfect ratings sweep timing of the arrest.

The fallout from the news had turned Staten Island into a (bleepin’) rumor mill, and whoever “they” are…well, they were all talking about it.

We picked right up where we left off last time, as my Restylane Reality Crush Big Ang flipped through the newspaper at that little boutique her sister either runs or works at or owns.

Big Ang was still stylin’ in her Jackie O Goes To The Jungle look as she pawed through the pages with those shiny black polyurethane Super Heroine gloves.

Do you think maybe she has a secret identity?  How cool would that be?

Perhaps her newly announced spin-off show is going to be an action/adventure kind of thing where she battles crime like Batman?

Maybe you pull one of those stuffed monkey tails behind her Drunken Monkey bar and the back wall actually opens up and she has a gigantic Big Ang Cave down in the basement?

How much would you pay to see her slide down a Big Ang Pole?  You know there is a seriously padded landing platform at the bottom of that ride.

But I digress.

As Big Ang tried to comprehend what the (bleep) just happened with Junior and Renee, we were treated to a little Junior video montage that is destined to be a viral youtube dance hit by the end of the week.

Trust me, if I had a clue how to open GarageBand I would be laying down tracks right now and you guys would have to settle for your own DVR instead of my wit, but I skipped that Genius Bar appointment so you’re in luck.

After the RatSnitch ReMix, we listened in on Karen’s phone conversation with her mom, Debbie.

Karen’s snitch-uation as I like to call it now, is similar to Renee’s…and yet somehow different.

When Karen’s dad, Sammy “The Bull” Gravano, flipped and cooperated with the Feds way back when, he at least had the common Mob courtesy to call a meeting in the Big House and let everyone know what was about to go down.

Let’s be real.

I barely know wedding present etiquette, much less gangstah graciousness, so trust me…I am not the authority on how to properly turn Federal Snitch.  But I guess getting everyone together and dropping that bomb is better than a quick scribble on some 5th grade report paper like Renee found when she finally stopped hitting the snooze alarm that fateful morning.

Speaking of Renee…Drita dropped by to check up on her and let her know that despite all their previous disagreements she is still loyal to her old friend Renee.

This was the first time that the two of them have had a chance to really sit down and diss about Junior, and it was total junior high gossip festivus.

He did what?  When?  Shut up.  No, you shut up.  He did.  When?  Shut up.  Renee, that is messed up.  Shut up.  And then lots of crying.  You shut up.  No, you shut up Infinity.  Am I living a lie?  Was I living a lie?  Shut up.

That’s pretty much how it went down.  I just took out all the cussing and made it more family friendly in case this ends up as a bedtime story for you West Coasters.

Then it time for RatSnitch ReMix Part 2.

Karen was recording the audio version of her new book, and was behind the mic at the studio to lay down some vocals, as they say in the biz.

Thanks to iPods and all that high tech gadgetry, audio books are a big deal nowadays and Karen was releasing the talkie version of Mob Daughter to coincide with the hardcover launch.

The way she explained it was that now when the Wise Guys are running from gunfire they can catch up on Gravano family history without the annoyance of having to hold the actual book.  And on the other end of the spectrum, Rat Snitches can easily stick one wire down their shirt and another one in their ear, thereby  killing two birds with one stone.  It’s well documented that Snitches like to stay current with New York Times bestsellers just like the rest of us do.

Spoiler Alert: Pretending to be listening to audio books is also one of the best ways to score information for the DEA.

Or I might have just made up those last couple paragraphs in my head.  The important thing is that Reading Is FUNdamental.  Stay in school, kids.

This is also probably a good place to mention how much I love me some Mob Wives.  Just to be safe.  Because I do.  I love me some Mob Wives.

As Karen read through various chapters, we were treated to yet another soon-to-be youtube dance classic, this time complete with those funky digital sound board lights.

If some 9 year old geek wad is not already auto tuning Chapter 11, I’m going to lose faith in the youth of today.

Seriously.  I had to move my coffee table and roll up the carpet when they busted out Karen’s mix.

I’m Gravano and I know it.

Then it was time to put the gloves on and hurt somebody.

Drita had her final boxing workout with Personal “We’re going hahhhhd kore” Trainer Anthony, before heading to the gym to spar with an actual human being.  As part of her born again focus on anger management, Drita hoped to unleash all her Mean Girl aggression on some boxing pads instead of Ramona’s face, and wanted to make certain that her inner Incredible Hulk wouldn’t surface during an upcoming match that Anthony had found for her.

Yeah.  Drita was going to do a boxing match.  With rules.

Between the last minute training in her backyard, and then losing control with the poor little Oriental guy who drew the short straw for her practice match, Drita realized that she should probably pull out of the event.

The biggest concerns about participating in the match were her kids, and the sudden realization that she might actually get hit in the face.

That, and the fact that Drita also fights like those high school girls with the blurred out faces you always see kicking a tiny kid for lunch money on the FOX5 News.

So it was best to just walk away with some dignity and all her teeth.  The Jack-o-Lantern look is cute on Dance Moms and Toddlers & Tiaras, but not so much when you’re modeling hoochie bikinis wearing a flipper.

I love me some Drita, too.  But she can have my lunch money.  All of it.  I’ll even mail it to her house.  I’m not messing with that one.  Ever.  Just tell me where to send it.  And don’t hurt me.  I bruise easily, being so delicate and all.  And I would totally cry.

Later, Big Ang got her Cher on and dropped by Renee’s house.  Carla better watch out, because Big Ang could steal the Cher look-a-like crown right off her head.

Granted, Big Ang’s Cher was a little less Bob Mackie and a little more Pride Parade, but still.  With her big Flintstone furry vest, dangly earrings and massive Cher hair, Big Ang could have passed for Sonny’s ex.  Or maybe Sonny when he used to dress up as Cher.

Remember that show?  When Chaz was Chazette?  I Got You Babe.  Good times.

But, again, I digress.

Soon as Big Ang left, Karen dropped by to help Renee pack up all of Junior’s stuff, in a cleansing/moving on with my life kind of ceremony.

It was also a pretty nice advertisement for the UPS Store.  When your Man goes Federal Informant, Brown has all the supplies you need to get his s*** outta the house.

And he had a lot of s***, considering that he just moved back in three months ago.

I’ll give Renee props.  She neatly folded everything and sealed it up like Junior was going off to Afghanistan.

If someone had boned me the way he boned her, that s*** would be flying out the bedroom window like it was Mardi Gras beads.  You go, girl.  Proud of you.

Now set it on fire in the backyard.

After two seasons, you know by now that nothing gets Staten Island people more excited than unsubstantiated gossip.  And Junior’s saga was Gold.

As Drita, Carla and Big Ang treated themselves to a little Day Spa action, Renee and Junior were again the topic.  Carla is losing her patience with Renee and all her drama, and there were conflicting reports from “the streets” as to whether Renee may have been in on the whole Junior being wired to spy thing.

I don’t know where these “streets” are that everyone in Staten Island always goes to for gossip, but I need to find them, asap.  I just imagine a Land where everyone eats calzones and talks snarky smack talk until their heads explode.

I want to live there.

Carla felt that if the stilettos were on the other foot, Renee would have a completely different attitude about a whole bunch of things.

Over the years, Renee has sworn that nothing is lower than a Rat.  But now that the infestation is in her own basement…hmmmphhh.

Carla thought Renee was a bipolar puppet.  Drita thought that red nail polish looked the best on her own nails.  Big Ang thought she was a little overdressed for such a warm salon.  That’s about all we got out of that.

We finished off the episode with Renee and son AJ awkwardly discussing their situation, and a warm and fuzzy HomeGoods Christmas.

For real.

You know when you go to HomeGoods…or TJ Maxx…or Marshall’s…or whatever it’s called in your ‘hood…during the holidays, and all the country snowmen are piled on the tables right by the front door?  All the snowmen that look like scarecrows in plaid vests?  They’re always next to those wreaths that never fully fluff up when you take them out of the box?  Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  You’re not that fancy.

Welcome to Carla’s house.

Newly released Joe dropped by to help finish up with the holiday traditions, which basically consisted of putting one last giant life-size snowman together and skeezing an invite to spend Christmas Eve on the couch.  Like I’ve said before, he does love those kids and they get all googly when he comes around, so when his son asked if Daddy could stay over…well, you know.

Joe’s dimples can pretty much score him anything that he sets his mind to, almost as if they have super powers.

Hmmm.  Do you think he is Big Ang’s sidekick in her new show?

After futzing with the snowman and attaching the head (…which was big enough to wear if you wanted to hold up a bank…just saying…) it was a HomeGoods holiday moment.

God bless us, everyone.

Except for Rat Snitches.

They (bleepin’) suck (bleeps.)