Mob Wives Chicago: They Grow ‘Em Big In The Windy City. Big Hair, Big Attitude, Big Earrings & Big Made Up Words Are Running Loose. Let’s Just Say That You Can’t Handle The Truce.Monday, June 25th, 2012
Listen, you crazy Goombaladoink. When I say “dance with me” you better bring your macaroni milkshake to the yard. Canolioli?
Trust me, after 15 years of stripping I’m like a human postal scale. Plop it down and I’ll tell you how much it weighs.
Now I never judge, but that little Goombalahooter could use some hand sanitizer and a trip to the car wash.
I don’t need to change, honey. Crazy eyes and funny faces always worked just fine for Mr. Potato Head.
No. Seriously. How does that bitch’s head not hit the table wearing those things? They’re like freakin’ weapons.
Is there a Learning Annex class on Mob Wives: Chicago?
Does anyone know?
Just a one nighter or something that could break down exactly what it is some of these women are saying? Maybe something that could dumb it down for those of us who will never get any closer to Chi-Town than the 5 Minute Lunch at Uno’s?
Now don’t get me wrong. I love me them Mob Wives. Obsessive love. Almost to the point of a restraining order love.
But between the Candy Land-ish ramblings of Nora and those made-up words that probably sounded way better in her head, to my newly crowned TV girlfriend #2 Leah tossing out every other word in Deep Dish Italiano (…sorry, LD. I’m still saving myself for Big Ang, but call me…) I feel like I might be missing some good stuff.
Realistically, I don’t have high hopes of ever completely understanding what the F*** Nora is trying to say, but it would be nice to not need my Flash Gordon decoder ring everytime Leah talks with her hands.
She’s my girl, but I still haven’t figured out what a Gob is and why I don’t want it Biffed…and that was over a week ago.
This week was all about Leah trying to keep her one shouldered outfits in place while working to keep the peace between all the Wives. A little time had passed since the hair pulling throw down between Pia and Christina but nobody had yet managed to coordinate a group hug.
This looked like a job for Leah.
Because Leah doesn’t do drama. No, thank you.
She also doesn’t do a subtly blended smokey eye or tastefully delicate earrings.
No, thank you. Again.
But she does keep the peace in the ‘hood. Or at least try.
Leah met up with Christina in the first of many restaurant tours this week. Between Chicago and Staten Island, it’s pretty clear that no one will ever accuse the Mob Wives of not getting enough to eat. Those girls know how to nosh when they gossip.
Leah wanted to get all the deets on what had gone down between Christina and Pia, and how it all related to crazy eyed Nora. As Leah doodled the whole timeline on her napkin spreadsheet, it was definitely starting to look as though everyone had been getting along really well…that is, until Nora packed her bonker bags and moved back up from Florida.
Before the time even clicked over on my DVR, Leah had already called Pia another Learning Annex name and proudly proclaimed that she would wipe her a** with Nora.
Let’s not hold back now, Leah.
You can just tell that is totally her go-to catch phrase anytime anyone, or anything, rubs her the wrong way.
If the cable guy doesn’t show up during the promised window, somebody’s gonna be a butt wipe…and you know she’ll get free HBO installed while he’s down there.
Even the way she chomps food off her fork looks like she is F***ing somebody up. I wonder how many utensils go back to the kitchen missing a prong.
Meanwhile, since higher elevations and thinner oxygen are no doubt some of Nora’s best friends, she and Pia were perched on a random Chicago roof top lounge discussing pretty much the same issues that Leah had just used to wipe her a**.
Beyond the bar fight, there was also the brewing tension between Pia and Renee.
Though they do not know each other very well, Renee had already made it clear early on that she did not approve of Pia’s decision to work at a strip club. According to Renee, taking your clothes off for horny Chicago sports fans every time a game is rained out is just low class, even if it guarantees that your rent is mailed in on time and you can finally fix your kid’s overbite. Stripping is bad…mmmKay?
Since Pia did not approve of another Mom telling her how to raise her kid or straddle a chair, she decided to drop by Renee’s place of business later in the day, bringing along her own daughter Bella as a human shield.
So Mom and Daughter headed to Eye Candy Optics, the Pearl Vision knock-off joint co-owned by Renee and her boyfriend Dave Giangrande, who I believe was named after that Starbucks drink that costs something ridiculous like $7 or more.
Dave, chewing his gum and barely looking up at Renee (…”I thought I told you to buy more lens cleaner, woman?”…) was text book Goomba if you want to look it up. You know when he is out on the street he’s one of those big Joe Giudice gym guys who wear that stupid blinking Bluetooth earpiece even when they forget their phone at home.
Now, Pia. I’m thinking that if you are trying to mend fences, you should probably not show up at someone’s place of business with your kid, your dog and your potty mouth and then unleash all three at the same time while customers are wandering around looking for those trendy geek glasses that Justin Bieber wears all the time.
I actually thought it was Nora sitting in Pia’s lap at first glance, because that little rat dog had the same googly eyes and flopping tongue that Nora has when she gets going. But it was just a puppy.
As Pia dropped F bombs around the place like she was trying to drive Bin Laden out of the optician’s office, Renee grew increasingly more uncomfortable with Pia’s presence in the store. Her annoyance level was maxxed out by the time Dave MochaLatteGrande came over and gave Pia a big Chicago Bears hug.
Dat’s rite. They knew each other already, which pushed all of Renee’s Barbie buttons and she quickly put 2 and 2 together.
Remember those math problems from school?
If a train leaves Cleveland full of Dbag guys wearing wife beaters and carrying $400 in singles and heads to a Chicago strip club at 75 miles per hour, and a truck leaves Chicago going in the opposite direction carrying 8 bushels of oranges and is going 64 miles per hour…
The answer is: Pia’s a ho bag.
This one isn’t going to end well, I can tell already.
Moving on, we had another snack with Renee and Christina. This was their chance to rehash the Pearl Vision fiasco, get some insight into whether anyone else thought that Dave may have slipped some cash into Pia’s ATM slot and for Renee to finally meet Leah, who entered the diner like she was a long lost Carrington.
Alexis would have been proud. Except for the hot pink feather earrings, maybe. But otherwise proud, dahling.
Leah didn’t join in and bash Pia for any of her life choices. She supported her for doing what she had to do to keep the internet on, though she did manage to avoid the discussion on why Pia hasn’t been able to set up a Monster.com account in 15 years.
Judge the book, not the cover. You go, girl.
Between the three of them, they couldn’t come to a majority decision on whether Dave VenteVenteGrande had tapped into any of Pia’s resources, so to speak, though I did pick up another Learning Annex synonym for giving a zaddabazing to someone.
Bow chicka goombow wow.
Since that meal didn’t seem to fill her up enough, Renee next had a date night with her Starbucks boyfriend. Looking something like a suburban Kim Zolciak, all blonde and spritzed and squeezed into yet another skinny black number, Renee waited for Dave to show up at the restaurant like a panther about to pounce on some poor little unsuspecting gopher.
As soon as Dave sat down, Renee was on him with one of those velcro paddles you use at the beach, whacking his tennis balls over and over until he ‘fessed up on how he knew Pia so well.
Seeings as how Renee’s voice tends to bring back memories of playing a song one octave too high on your wind-up toy piano, she never really comes across as a very intimidating screamer. No matter how many times he denied any wrong doing Renee wasn’t buying it, so between the (bleeps) and the (bleeps) and the slow service at the restaurant, Dave basically flipped her off and hailed a cab.
Run while you still have legs, little gopher. Run like the wind.
I’m not sure why Renee even has a kitchen, because next thing you knew she was headed to yet another restaurant. This time it was for Nora’s makeshift memorial dinner in honor of her MIA father Frank “The German” Schweihs.
We only got two things out of this whole meal. One was a Sky7 traffic report on the apparent expressway back up that was responsible for Renee being so disrespectfully late for the seance. Second was learning that instead of returning clothes that she has borrowed, Nora tends to regift them to visiting out of town BFFs…and Renee wanted her sweater back, bitch.
The Chicago restaurant tour continued with Pia and Renee sitting down, albeit very briefly, to try and rehash the whole Pearl Vision thing again. Between Renee’s angry Disney soundtrack voice and Pia’s absolute denial over ever having taken even one sip of Dave’s Starbucks blend, it didn’t go very well at all.
Pia questioned Renee’s “prekinoshens” about her, whatever that meant and then bolted out of the restaurant. (Do you see now why I need that Learning Annex class?)
Finally Renee went home to digest some of this food, and left the booth open for Pia and Leah to chow down.
Leah really wanted everyone to get along, and really hoped that Pia and Christina could “rekindle their differences (?)”
Despite the fact that she’s a Noodle, Pia really likes Nora for some odd reason. She explained that…well…Nora is Nora. To which Leah responded “My Fat A**.”
She’s a keeper. Girlfriend is definitely proud of that badonkadonk. If she ain’t wiping it with somebody’s face, she’s pointing it out to passing waiters and anyone in the cheap seats. Love. Her.
Figuring that this drama would never end unless they got everyone together, Leah set up one more buffet date for the Wives to all sit down and marvel at her earrings.
…and try and work things out, I mean.
I know, right?
Did you see those things? How in the–? I mean…seriously…
Pardon me while I drop by the Public Library archives and see if I can locate a daVinci sketch that might give a better understanding as to how the human anatomy can actually support earrings of that stature.
At first I just thought they were Pier 1 Import window clingers without the suction cup part. And then I got all excited when I thought they were Girl Scout Samoa cookies painted silver, because the combination of Leah and those tasty, over priced snacks in one room would be like a dream come true for me.
But they were just ginormous earrings.
With her hair slicked back in one direction and the earrings tugging her down in the other direction, Leah was pretty much tight enough to sneak back into her own Sweet Sixteen party. It was like she had somehow accidentally walked into a Time Machine at the Mall on her way out of H&M.
You could barely see the wrinkles in her forehead as she tried to deal with Nora’s excuses for not wanting to dance with her back on that fateful Italian Fest Day.
Nora doesn’t dance with strangers. And she doesn’t need to change, honey.
Everything after that was a blur.
I think everyone kinda sorta made up even after Pia and Christina growled at each other, but I was having a flashback to the last time anyone called anyone else “Honey” on Reality TV and all I could see was Teresa Giudice flipping a table.
You just don’t say that to someone. That’s like Reality Rule #1.
Don’t call me Honey.
Ok…is GoombalaBitch better?