DanThat'sCool!

 

 

 

How about I save us all some time and just slap the stupid right out of you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

You just keep talkin’ Renee. Got a little leftover Ragu right up here I’ve been saving for a moment just like this.

 

 

 

 

 

I swear, the only thing worse than two nitwits is a bunch of two nitwits. Because that’s more than two.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’re a Silent Partner. And by the time I’m done you’re gonna wish you were a Deaf one, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously? I’m the only one who can keep my tongue in my mouth? Suck on that, haters.

 

 

 

 

I love me some Leah DeSimone.

Second only to Big Ang on my Reality TV Girlfriend Bucket List, Leah has definitely got it goin’ on.

Not only is Leah blessed with the fashion sense of a Solid Gold Dancer and the wildly coiffured mane of a Tim Burton claymation character (…which I truly believe could live on and regenerate as its own life source if, God forbid, Leah was ever be hit by a bus on Taylor Street…) but she is also obviously blessed with the patience of one of those Street Fair Saints that everyone always salutes with fried dough and sausage towards the end of the Summer.

She has to be.

How else could she survive this long without smacking one of these girls upside the head?  Twice, even.

As a matter of fact, without going to the DVR I believe she is the only Mob Wife in the entire franchise, aside from my soon-to-be Monkey Bar lover Ang, who hasn’t hauled off and cold cocked somebody yet.

Don’t get me wrong.  She’s come close.  There have been a number of times when I thought Leah would make the transition from Goombaladoinka sock puppet hands to full on neck throttle, but it never happened.

And if it ever does get to the point of a throw down, I really believe that her super powered hair will do all the heavy lifting…swinging and flinging Mob Wife a** all over the street like some pissed off Italian Medusa while Leah just kicks back and files her nails.

I know you can totally picture that in your head.

Memo to Madison Avenue:  Leah needs her own Marvel comic book, asap.

Mob Wives: Chicago once again tested Leah’s superior physical and follicle restraint this week by unleashing yet another round of drama that kicked in as soon as the opening credits rolled.

As a show of solidarity and support for Leah’s Mom Jacquie (…cutest, most huggable Mom evah next to mine…) the girls all gathered for the Y-Me Race at your Pace to raise money for breast cancer research.  It is an annual walk/race/strut event in Chicago, and was an opportunity to wear some pink and come together as one against this disease.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that Renee and Pia had time to read the flyer completely, because they totally missed the paragraph about coming together as one.

Prior to the event, Renee had made it clear that she did not want to be anywhere near whackadoodle Nora since the two of them were still in the midst of their pissing contest over who said what to whom at Christina‘s party way back when.  (The party where Renee ended up on all fours like a noisy leashed up dog barking at the mailman, while Nora accused Renee’s Dad of some nasty shizzle.  That party.)

As Leah waited nervously for everyone to show up, I was so distracted by her platform sneaker/boot things that I almost forgot why they were walking in the first place.

How did I know that Leah didn’t own a pair of Chuck Taylors?  Given the fact that I can barely go from the taxi to the nightclub coat check girl without my feet hurting, I have to salute Leah for hitting the hot pavement in Lady Gaga shoes.

I bow to her awesomeness.  And her blister bandaids.

As soon as everyone showed up in their Y-Me colors, Renee and Pia split off from the pack like two rogue triathletes, leaving  Leah, Nora and Christina in their pink dust.

Nora was not amused, and made note that Renee and Pia were like “a bunch of two nitwits” which I believe should still equal two if you do the math correctly.

Pia’s finely tuned hearing, which apparently can now pick up human voices and dog whistles at a good half mile away, allowed her to listen in on Nora’s whiney conversation until it made the hair on her neck stand up.  As Pia and her newly christened BFF Renee linked arms and headed off to see the Wizard, Pia made note that Nora’s “voice radiates through me,” which in hindsight is probably not something that anyone should utter when surrounded by women who just completed their third round of chemo.

Think first.  Then speak.  Just throwing that out there, girls.

After the walk was over and the Wizard had apologized for being flat out of Brains to hand out, Pia and Renee again joined arms and hit the Spa for some Botox.

As you will remember, Pia had recently given up the Pole and was moving her career in another direction, which in the MobWives World usually means modeling or gangsta rap. And since there ain’t nobody (…myself included, thank you…) who gotz the cojones to get all up in Drita D’Avanzo‘s hip hop turf…Pia went the safer route and chose modeling.

Lucky for Pia, her stiletto wearing BFF Deanna was available to immediately hook her up, since any good Life Coach has a soft focus photographer, makeup artist and stylist on speed dial.

Seriously.  You’re an agent.  Or a consultant.  Or a Color Me Beautiful cosmetician at Neiman’s.  Whatever.  I understand your business cards were printed incorrectly, but you do photo shoots and wardrobe analysis.

Own it, or do an informercial and prove us all wrong.

Because next to Drita, Tony Robbins is the last person I would want to go up against.

He’ll totally Unleash The Giant Within DVD on your a**.  And he’s like 9 feet tall.

Next we jumped across town for some snacks with Leah, Christina and Nora.

Christina was having some issues with the fact that Renee and Pia had become so tight, so quickly.  They even had little pet names for each other like some kind of Secret ChiTown Sorority or something, which really got under her skin.

Leah didn’t want to brag, but apparently amidst all the drama she had still found time to run one leg of the Olympic Torch Relay when it came through Chicago.  Did you see those earrings?

If I’m lying, I’m dying.  They were crafted from the same gold mesh that David Beckham was carrying when he jumped out of that speedboat all misty and sexy faced.

One flick of her Bic and Ryan Seacrest would have had to go online and completely change his AA TripTik for the Opening Ceremonies.

Love.  Her.

Finally Pia was ready for her closeup.

The Tony Robbins photo shoot was in full swing.  Deanna wanted the shots to be sexy, sophisticated, healthy and prosperous.  She also wanted to jump on the bed and into every shot from what I could see, but Pia managed to fend her off and make it her own.

I’ll give Pia credit.  She cleaned up better than that scruffy KIA did a few weeks back.

Oh snap.

Yeah.  I went there.  Again.

And now I don’t even have to mention the fact that Pia later gave her daughter her 11 year old Ford Focus as a birthday present.  You can make up your own story for that one.  I really, really, honestly like Pia…but, c’mon.

Since I’m now going to get hate mail for bringing up the KIA…again…I’ll let you DVR the photo shoot and check it out on your own.  Just pay attention to her implants, her skimpy lingerie and that lazy left eye, which in her defense I never saw…but the photographer kept mentioning it like it had popped completely out of her skull.

Renee showed up in the middle of the shoot, since that is what Besties do, and for the first time I really noticed that Ms. Fecarotta Russo has a ring to match every outfit.

Check it out.  She had an orange one on.  Next outfit…different ring.  Outfit after that…another ring.  Rewind.  That outfit…another ring.  All color coordinated like they hang in ziplock Baggies clipped to each outfit, the way Martha Stewart says it should be done.

Don’t ask why I know that.  I just do.

Next day, next ring…Renee was waiting at her apartment for her Starbucks boyfriend, Dave Giangrande to show up so they could discuss his recent behavior.  Or more like so Dave could just sit there and listen to Renee.  Semantics.

As soon as the dude walked in he was jumped, and Roid Rage Barbie was on him like that thing in the Alien movies that sucks to your face.

Dave had not supported Renee during the recent custody battle and then put the final nail in his coffin by no-showing for a date and calling the cops on her brother Frankie.

He also does that same nervous tongue thing that Nora does when she’s under pressure which has got to bug Renee a little.  It’s kinda like the Geico Insurance mascot, but not as cute without the Aussie accent.

And yes, Frankie still reminds me of somebody but I still can’t figure out who that is, and the mystery is taking up way too much of my free time.

Some alert readers feel that it’s James Franco.  But not the Planet of the Apes one, or the General Hospital one.

I dunno.

I should make it a game or something, but since I’m not making any real money off this site yet, I can’t afford a prize.  So just talk amongst yourself until I can sell ad space or some media mogul Googles “Honey Boo Boo Child” and immediately wants to get on the ground floor and invest in the site that will eventually bring down Perez Hilton.

What?

Tony Robbins was just on QVC and said it was gonna happen.  Well, he implied it anyways.  And is it just me, or is his goatee a little odd?

After some (bleeps) and FBombs, Dave waved the white flag and told Renee he had tickets to somewhere or another and they should go away and make it all better.  Then he sealed the deal with a face squoosh, a sloppy Frat House kiss and a heartfelt “Don’t be F***ing Stupid.”

Just like a Shakespeare romance, bitch.

Then it was time for a job interview.

While shopping with Leah, Christina had picked up the contact information for an up and coming local designer named Anastasia (…since they’re never named Sue or Ethel…) and had managed to score a meeting about a possible internship.

Anastasia was exactly what you would picture an up and coming designer named Anastasia to look like, complete with a quirky fashion sense and a whacky sidekick in a bow tie who just sat there in dead silence looking all fierce.

Tapping on her iPad, Anastasia asked Christina hard hitting questions about poly cotton blends, Project Runway and Alexander McQueen, only pausing once when it became glaringly apparent that Christina had confused Alexander with Steve and that “the guy in The Towering Inferno movie” was not the answer she was looking for.

Bow Tie Guy almost blacked out from his own fabulousness.

But somehow Christina got the job.  So she’s in!  Go you.  Good luck, TeamC!

More proof that Tony Robbins exists.

Leah and Pia met up later on to hash out more of the party fallout and the Y-Me drama at an outdoor patio.  To prevent a potential burst of a cranial artery while trying to talk some sense into Pia, Leah had strapped down her head in a wicked striped scarf number and some big sunglasses and began to lay down some Goombalike wisdom on Pia.  Or at least she tried.

Pia jumped right down her throat and proved that she had been taking private lessons with her Bestie ReeRee on the Art of Getting In The First Punch.  Leah got a little heated.  Pia got a little heated, or at least I think she did.  The Botox made it hard to tell.

As much as I love Leah, I love her more when she’s blowing a nutty.  My girl was all vogueing and finger snapping and sock puppeteering and Goomba this and Goomba dat so fast and so close that the wind shear alone took another 2 years off Pia’s face.

Best moment of the whole argument though was the meter maid or tourist or whoever that was who poked her head around the side of the restaurant and couldn’t decide if she should take an iPhone picture or call up her boyfriend and put the whole show on speaker phone.  Classic.

Needless to say, they got pretty much nowhere.

There were a few more restaurant tours before the big finale, when Nora finally met up with Pia to find out why she had hit her so hard at the party.

Before Pia had even inhaled to begin her first sentence, Nora went all DoodleSpaz on her and the whole thing collapsed on itself like an iParty bouncy tent with a hole in the side wall.

Needless to say, they didn’t get very far either before Nora poked out her Geico tongue and then bolted for the door.

Girlfriend does like to stir it up and then run before the pot overheats.  Cussing and rambling to all her invisible friends, Nora made it to her car in one piece and hit the road.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Renee and all her Rainbow Rings got in a limo and went off into the sunset with Starbucks.  You can take the girl outta ChiTown, but I’m betting you can’t take the ChiTown outta the girl, so we’ll just have to wait and see how that all goes down next time.

Until then, Tony says be the best you can be and all your goals are attainable and within your reach.  Focus is Power.

Oh…and Deanna says never wear white after Labor Day.

The End.

 

 

Seriously. If we have to discuss this thing one more time someone’s getting all five of these right up their gob.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Check it out. I can fit five golf balls in here and still not skip a beat. And Nora’s a bitch.

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Yesterday my hair was out to freakin’ here! It was Goombadiculously Awesome Sauce.

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously? The Nora texting story again? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. I don’t know why the counter is covered in fruit flies. It’s not like there’s…oh… Whatever, dude. You still suck big ones.

 

 

 

Seriously.

Nine episodes later, and I still don’t know what a Gob is.

I love saying it, and using it in almost daily interactions with co-workers and am actually actively considering somehow sneaking it into a Powerpoint presentation I have to give next month.

No clue.

But whatever it is, it’s pretty clear that Leah is just about ready to biff one or two of them, because everyone’s favorite Mob Wives: Chicago Goombalina has just about run out of patience with the rest of the girls and their drama.

Seriously.

It’s gotten to the point where she hasn’t even had time to blow out her signature Broadway Lion King mane for every scene.  That’s when you really know it’s about to go down in ChiTown.

Amidst the party throw downs and prankster texting, Leah has valiantly tried to play referee while the rest of the gang quickly threw punches and slowly shifted alliances.

That’s gotta wear a girl out.  Not to mention her ‘do.

Well, you better get used to a few more weeks of ponytail scrunchies and slicked back hair, because it doesn’t look like the rest of the girls are even close to hugging this one out yet.

This time the drama started as soon as the front door opened at Renee‘s place.

Roid Rage Barbie had not seen her daughter since Giana and that whacky sidekick Marco returned from their jailhouse roadtrip.  After driving however long it took them to get from A to B at 70 mph…I was never very good at those trick math questions…Giana had finally gotten to spend some quality time with her Dad, Ottavio Volpe, as well as the entire population of the penitentiary and that one creepy guard who always looks through the two way window.

Or at least he always does on General Hospital.

Regardless, Giana came home more confused than ever about her childhood and now doubted most of the stories that Mom had spoon fed her growing up.

Through the years, with any opening in the conversation she was given, Renee had always jumped at the chance to smack talk Ottavio and his Dead Beat Dad status.

Whether it was stories about abandonment, no-shows at her school’s Father/Daughter Day, or the one about yanking the tails off every My Little Pony in her collection to stitch together a bank robbery disguise, Renee always made Ottavio out to be The Villain.

All that aside, it really is too bad that Dad is locked up for so long, because his cool name alone could guarantee him a supporting role in the next X-Men movie.

Seriously.

Is that not the best name?  Evah?

Move over Magneto.  The World will now learn to fear the Italian Power of Ottavio!

That is way cooler than any of the other cool names that I’ve ever guaranteed an X-Men role to previously.

But, anyway.

We love Giana.  She’s the most level headed young woman on VH1.  And she’s just naturally, really pretty.  And when she cries, it’s real crying.  Not Drama Queen crying.

So we love her.

Turned out that before the guards took Ottavio back to the prison’s Super Villain Lair so he could plot his next move on Charles Xavier and Wolverine,  Dad had mentioned to Giana that every time he tried to visit her as a child Renee would call the police.

Even back in the day, Ottavio and the Po Po were definitely not a good mix, so he would always have to cut a donut in the driveway and squeal off into the sunset without getting to see his daughter.  Thus giving Renee another opportunity to sing that song about Abandonment.

When Giana confronted Renee about the different versions of her youth, most of it got (bleeped) out, but the gist of the conversation was that Renee felt Dad was trying to sabotage her relationship with Giana by lying.  Just like he lied when he used to tell people he had cancer.  Wha–?

Now Renee wasn’t really clear on why he said that, or when, or how often, and it did kind of seem like she was reaching for something on the top shelf of the Drama Cabinet when she blurted it out, but it was enough to zonk Giana out a little bit, which in turn flipped that tiny dog out a little bit.

Pretty soon all three of them were just running in circles and it was time to move on.

While Christina made some soup, her live-in ex-husband Joe (…every MobWives show in the franchise is contractually obligated to hire at least one Joe…) came in from whatever it was he was doing outside to eat some soup and ask if she was ever gonna get a job or something to help pay the cable bill.

The scene was short and pretty painless but we did get to see that their kitchen looked like every good Italian kitchen should look, complete with that trio of pedestal candles that always get in the way of every camera shot.

Seriously.

Hasn’t anyone learned anything from dodging those things over at the Manzo house on Real Housewives of New Jersey?  They’re like a director’s worst nightmare.  And you know they never light them because they always have that straw ribbon cluster still attached to the middle.

Then we were off to downward our dogs, so to speak.

Pia, Renee and Leah headed out to yoga class in an effort to de-stress and find their Inner Child.

Needless to say, they never chilled out enough to release them, but I’m going to go on the assumption that Leah’s Inner Child would have some serious Little Rascals Buckwheat hair and sound like she alternated between drags on a Newport unfiltered and a helium-filled birthday balloon.

Sometimes I just love Leah too much.

After getting their yoga on for three whole minutes, the girls got right back into bickering over the same old Nora This Nora That mess until I thought Leah was going to force a headstand on the two of them.

You can always tell when Leah is getting fed up, because she does her Italian Goombadabing Sock Puppet Hands.  You know what I’m talking about.  The ones where you put all your fingers and thumbs together like you’re wearing a tube sock on your fist and tasting good pasta at the same time.  Delizioso!

Now shut the f*** up about all this before I break your face.  Namaste?

Speaking of breaking stuff…

Renee met her brother Frankie to show off yet another snappy hat and to get his opinion on all the latest drama.

It’s driving me crazy that I can’t think of who Frankie looks like.  He reminds me of somebody and I can’t remember if it’s on TV or at my old high school or the bulletin board at the Post Office.

But once he said “Do NOT mess wid my family. Do NOT.” it really didn’t matter anymore.

When Caroline Manzo says it (…pretty much weekly, as any RHONJ drinking game participant will attest to…) it’s threatening to a point, and then you reach across the table for more meatballs right in front of her face.

When Frankie says it on the other hand, you wet yourself a little and then close your Facebook account.  Or at least I did.

Yeah.  We won’t be making as much fun of Frankie as I had originally intended.   I’ve invested too much money in White Strips over the years to get on his bad side.

Moving on.

Down the road, Leah met up with Ms. CrazyPants Nora to share some stories about being Daddy’s Little Girl.  Through all the fist fights and verbal inappropriateness, Leah had always tried to keep an open mind about Nora until she could figure out what this NutWad was really all about.

Turns out that they actually have a few things in common and Leah quietly whispered that she might actually be starting to like Nora.  I know, right?

Don’t tell the cool kids at school quite yet or it will ruin her street cred in Study Hall.  It was that kind of moment.  Awkward.

But not as awkward as new BFFs Renee and Pia going bathing suit shopping.

After flashing the construction workers across the street with a Lindsay Lohan car seat slide, Renee joined her new Bestie for some bikini modeling.  Awkward.

Then they actually tried on suits, which gave Renee a chance to not only ogle Pia’s implants, but also poke at them like you do before a picnic when you want to know if the jello mold has completely set.  Awkward.

And then to top it all off, three of Renee’s credit cards were declined after sliding them up and down the Visa reader like they were playing the machines at Vegas.  You just hit the Awkward Trifecta!  And lost.

Looked like her Starbucks boyfriend Dave Giangrande had been getting his fingers up in her bidnezz.  Uh oh.  Renee was pissed, and looking to do some damage.

But first, it was time to whack a few balls that weren’t attached to Dave.

Since Leah isn’t big on Tupperware parties, she decided the next best thing to pull the girls all together would be golfing.  Go figure.

So Leah, Christina, Pia and Renee all hit the driving range to unleash some aggression and try to kiss and make up.

Let’s just say that half a bucket o’ balls later, Christina was starting to steam as the two new Besties screamed and giggled with each swing like they had just gotten the ball through the windmill and into the clown’s mouth at FunTown Putt Putt.

By the time the four of them hit the clubhouse for a cocktail, the whole Nora This Nora That mess resurfaced again, and it was time for that poor VH1 intern to (bleep) every other word out of Renee’s mouth.

Seriously.

VH1 must have had to hire somebody full time in the booth just to keep one hand on the censor button when Renee is around.

Girlfriend does like her purple eye shadow and F Bombs.

And she got to use plenty of them bombs on Dave later after he not only stood her up for a dinner date, but then also called the cops on brother Frankie the next day.

Dat’s rite.  Before Renee even made it into work after getting royally boned (…and not the good kind…) on a romantic dinner, Bro had gone to Eye Candy Optics to get all Manzo on Dave’s a** and give him that whole Don’t Mess Wid My Family spiel.

But as we’ve previously discussed, Caroline’s not related to anyone who may or may not have killed a man…so we’ll just say that Frankie’s hair looked nice as the cops kicked him out, and leave it at that.

Renee got (bleeped) out some more and then Dave stormed off carrying that garment bag again.  What’s in that thing, anyway?

Somewhere in the middle of all this drama, Christina met up with Nora and they…well…after Christina said that her relationship with Nora had “Dramaastiklly Changed” I blacked out and don’t remember anything else from that scene.

Dramaastiklly.  I swear.

I’ve grown to also love Christina quite a bit over the last few weeks, but she needs to get out from behind that Walmart Returns Counter and read a book.

Or go with Pia to her Life Coach and figure out what the next step is gonna be.

Seriously.

Life Coach.  And her name was Deanna.  And she loves big hot rollers.

Before all the Pia drives a Kia haters spam me again…relax.

I am not judging Pia.  Or Deanna.

Or her enormous Farrah Fawcett hair.

It’s the Life Coach thing.  And she’s a Life Coach who does image consulting and sets up soft core fashion photography shoots.  Just like Anthony Robbins does.

Not.

I need to process that one.  We’ll deal with it next time.

The episode finished up with Renee in a Bleepapalooza with Giana’s dad on the phone.

Why you would even try to start an argument with someone who is on a timed pay phone call from prison is beyond me, but Renee tried to cram as many F Bombs into the conversation as she could before the Warden yanked the cord.

As she scurried around the kitchen doing a seriously nervous countertop wipe down, Renee swore at Ottavio about everything from the lies he told Giana to the country’s deficit, all while trying to figure out how to reach through the phone and poke his eye out with one of her patented finger points.

There was also a giant watermelon on the counter.  It needed to be said.

But before she could get in one last juicy (bleep) it all ended quite dramaastiklly when the phone line went dead.

And just like that, it was over.

Seriously.

 

 

I know Leah’s hair looks extremely goombastic tonight, but look at me when I’m flipping out on you, bitch!

 

 

 

 

No, you look at me! I’m a Pez dispenser. When I tip my head back, fruity candy and Xanax fall out of my mouth.

 

 

 

 

And who is this chick who keeps trying to get in on every one of my camera shots? Do you mind, honey?

 

 

 

 

I don’t know. When I was a little Mobette, something just came to me one day and I realized that I should be a wine maker.

 

 

 

 

It was like I had a vision where I could beat people up and make red wine all at the same time.

 

 

 

Can you get a hangover just from watching people drink wine?

Or make wine?  Or both?

I’m starting to think you can, because there was so much grape squishing and hair pulling on this week’s Mob Wives: Chicago that I need an aspirin.  It’s like a hangover with a different kind of morning after shame.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

After last week’s sweat-free workout and gymnasium screaming match with Nora, Chicago’s favorite Kia driving “don’t call it stripping” exotic dancer Pia needed some support from a friend.  Lucky for her, Christina was at home, hard at work on the relaunch of her fashion design career.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love Christina. I love her No Crap attitude.  And I really love that raspy Walmart Customer Service Department Manager laugh she’s always got going on.

Oh, please.  Don’t tell me you’ve never walked up to the store when they’re all out there sitting on the bench having a butt during their 15 minute break, doing that half howl/half smoker cough over some crazy customer story or how one of their husbands cut a finger off in the wood chipper and the dog grabbed it like it just fell out of a box of Snausages.

I know you know what I’m talking about.  Nobody just shops at Target.

So I love her snort, but I’m not so sure about this whole fashion thing.  I mean…who wants to wear a floor length evening gown made out of the same fabric they use for yoga pants?  And what is going on with that big flap of hot pink over the shoulder?  Even Pia scratched her head, which by itself was a nice change from her night job itch, and when a stripper questions your fashion sense…well…there you have it.

If we’ve learned anything from Project: Runway though, it’s to not judge until the outfit is complete.  So sister better Make It Work, and fast, because right now the draped version looked like some kind of super heroine costume from a direct to discount bin DVD.  The kind where the words never quite sync up to the mouth movements, and you wonder if the whole thing started out in Chinese.

Christina was just finishing up some pinning as two fisted Pia arrived, brandishing a few bottles of vino and still nursing a bad attitude.  Even though there were piles of red Solo cups on the counter, Christina dirtied a few more glasses so they could get fancy while they dissed on Nora.

Pia firmly believed that Nora wanted Renee to hate Pia, and that is why she looked down her Barbie snoot at Pia for stripping.  The evening’s Classic MobLine #1 came out around this point somewhere when Pia explained that she doesn’t take her clothes off completely, which implied that there are various levels of stripperdom or something.

I’m not really well versed in stripper etiquette, but according to the Magic Mike trailers I thought you always needed something for the dollar bills to slip into or you wouldn’t make any money.  Or maybe as long as the left pastie stays stuck on, that also counts.

I don’t know.  I need to cash in my coin rolls and do some research before I hand out any false information.

Pia also let Nora’s secret stripping past out of the bag to Christina, who had quite a Walmart chuckle over that one and then sewed a tube sock onto her yoga dress.

Across town, Nora was trying to regain her own focus and get to the bottom of her Dad’s mystery burial.

A few weeks back, she and Pia and the dirty Kia (…sounds like a Dr. Seuss book, I know…) had made a little bit of progress when they dropped by the funeral home.  The director had let Nora know that another family member had given the thumbs up to bury Dad without any fanfare, but Nora was not 100% certain who you would actually find in the ground if you popped the lid.

On my short list of Worst Jobs Ever, which already includes some pretty nasty ones involving sticky peep show floors and people’s mouths, the Death Record Lady is the newest addition.

That poor thing.  Can you imagine that job?  Or what a downer she must be at cocktail parties?

Nora managed to get her on the phone, but didn’t get very far since the records are now private.  The other family members had them sealed up at the same they dumped the body off, and now nobody can get to the files.

The Lady of Death also explained that the only way to get the body exhumed was to get a judge to approve the John Deere backhoe, or to get the entire family to agree to turn the graveyard into a construction site.

I’m sure the exasperated voice on the other end of the phone also wanted to explain to NutWad Nora that it was called “exhume” not “resume,” but she probably let that one go due to the sensitive nature of the conversation.  The HR manual probably says something about correcting stupid people in their time of grief.

I, on the other hand, haven’t screamed out a word that loudly at my own television set since the idiot on Wheel of Fortune who couldn’t figure out Benihana Restaurant.

Gah.  Spell it out, for chrissakes.

You exhume a body.  You resume your meds.

As Nora pushed the Death Record Lady into an early retirement, I also couldn’t help but notice the stack of textbooks on her table.  They even had “Used” stickers on them, like when you buy books off a truck in the college commons during graduation week.

Is our girl going to school?  The plot thickens.

One of my favorite eagle eyed readers also noticed, and stole my joke before I even had time to use it.  It was going to be something about a community college non-credit course on English as a Second Language, and it was going to be HIGHsterical.

But she ruined it.  So forget it.

(She still gets credit though.  She’s a hoot.)

Since we know them Mob Wives like to nosh, next we were off to the bakery with Leah and Renee for some pastries and caffeine.

The scene itself was pretty uneventful, but it involved Leah, so that’s major.  She was her usual goombalicious self, and that just made me love her more.

(Side note to the United States Patent Office.  I invented the word Goombalicious, so please do not use it on tee shirts without paying me a bazillion dollars.  Leah may be eligible for a monetary split if we can work things out over whatever pie they had up there in the display case.  It looked Goombadelish!)

The only other point worth noting is that Renee still can’t say espresso without making it sound like someone who fights alongside Wolverine.

I’ll have an X-presso and the Power of Invisibility, please.

Renee also can’t seem to say anything nice to her Starbucks boyfriend Dave Giangrande over at Eye Candy Optics, because the next day she was all up in his grill.

Working and living with the same person was having just the results you would expect from a  24/7 relationship.  Styling in his shirt with the Burberry collar lining…which either means he couldn’t afford the full-on plaid shirt or this one was a knock off from Marshall’s…poor Dave got clobbered from every angle as soon as Renee walked into the eye glass shop.  Even the arrival of a shaky customer just trying to prevent the onset of early blindness couldn’t stop her from swearing at Dave.

Renee wanted Dave to be a silent partner.  As in shut the f*** up partner.

I just wanted to know what was out on the sidewalk that was so captivating, because the dude never took his eyes off the front window.  I’m thinking maybe one of those Suicide Prevention Hotline billboards or something, because that poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with ‘Roid Rage Barbie.

Nora wants to become a wine maker.  Kinda like Bethany Frankel.  Only crazier.

There’s no easy, smooth transition into this one, so let’s just go with it.

To honor her MIA father Frank “The German” Schweihs, and to take away any residual Nazi or Mob or Schnitzel stigma from the word “German,” Nora hoped to create the next big wine.  And what better way to get the ball rolling than with a course in wine making, right?

Nora and her BFF Desiree hit up the BevArt Brewery to sharpen up their vino skills, where she got to squish wine bags like human organs and give us MobLine #2 for the week.  (Actually #3 if you count all that exhume/resume hysteria.)

Nora was going to create a wine for people with class, respect, honor and dignity…people like the Kennedys and Sponge Bob and blah blah blah.

And then they will see that the Legend Still Stands Known.

What does that even mean?  I swear Nora needs to come with her own Mob Wives DeCoder ring.  It’s gonna take a few more used textbooks before this batch of wine is fully aged, if you get my drift.

Then it was back to the gym to burn off all that booze.

Pia and her BFF Kamila revisited the scene of last week’s crime and jumped on the treadmill while they waited for my girl Leah to show up.

Yes, now that you mention it, this episode was chock full of new and old BFFs simply coming out of the woodwork.  It must have been Take Your BFF To Work Day at VH1.

Kamila was a PYT (…pretty young thing…der…) and looked like she could easily be a video dancer or one of those girls who always get kicked off The Apprentice on the first week.  You know she has a stack of head shots and business cards with her at all times.  Girlfriend knew how to work the treadmill…and the cameras.

Did you play the drinking game and take a shot every time Kamila showed up in the scenes for the rest of this episode?  If you did, you’re not reading this right now.

When Leah finally showed up in her studded cuff gym attire…Love Her…she got right to filing her nails while the other girls walked backwards on their treadmills.

Now backin’ dat thang up is really good for all your stripper trunk junk, but they really should have plugged the equipment in before they started.  Does anyone ever sweat at that gym?

Finally it was time for Christina’s party.  BYOBFF.

Leah showed up at Christina’s house to prep armed with more clothes and supplies than Kate Winslet took on the Titanic, and that made Christina do another Walmart woof.  By the time the two of them both crammed into the bathroom to slap on their war paint, it looked like backstage at the Tony Awards, only Leah’s eyeshadow was brighter.

Nora and yet another BFF Debbie were also enroute to the party.  Nora was using the time to remove her crazy face and put on her game face before she ran into Renee.

Everyone except Renee, who seems to make a habit out of bitching people out and being fashionably late, finally made it to the club in one piece, but that didn’t last for long.

Like a swarm of Mean Girls in the school cafeteria, Pia glared at Nora as Christina egged everybody to talk it out.  Well, mostly Pia.  Because it was almost like they forgot Nora was two seats down for a few moments as they blatantly spoke ill of her craziness.

Much like the Virgin Mary, Nora suddenly claimed to have gotten food poisoning even though no munchies had actually entered her body.  It was either the smell from the kitchen, or Renee’s perfume as she and her BFF Crystal entered up the staircase.

Either way, they crossed paths for a brief second the way everyone used to do on Scooby-Doo when they’d pass back and forth in the hallways between open doors, and then Nora jumped in a cab and took off with one of the BFFs.

Long story short(er)…Christina took a Walmart 15 and called Nora back to the club while she had a butt with Leah.  Leah was all, like, What The Goombata? and had no patience for the whole hot mess.

By the time Nora showed back up at the club, the sun had gone down and Renee was just waiting to pounce.

Ring the bell and Let the Bitch Fight begin.  Renee and Nora went at it right away, quickly followed by Pia tag teaming on Nora, which gave Kamila some prime camera time to strike a pose.  Werk.

There were so many MobLines I lost count.  You really need to just call in sick from work and watch your DVR to fully appreciate the awesomeness of the spectacle.

Wherever it is in the Land of TV that they store the Book that records all the best Reality TV crazy wives lines ever, next to “Close Your Legs” and “Fix Your Face” they can now add “Where’re Your Balls?” and “Not In Your Mouth” to the list.

I swear.  They said it.  Even Leah was speechless.

Pia high fived Nora’s face.  Then Renee wanted in on some of that.

Then out of nowhere Nora blurted out that Renee’s father molested her everyday.

Say it with me: What The Goombata?  True or false, you just…you just don’t, lady.

Boom goes the dynamite.  Next thing you knew, everyone was everywhere, pulling hair and kitty scratching and getting (bleeped) out while those same two Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis look-a-likes dropped down from somewhere in the ceiling and tried to break up the pig pile.

I was waiting for Kamila to walk in front of everyone wearing a bikini, carrying a Fight Card with her contact info at the bottom.

Let’s get ready to rumble, bitches…and call me, maybe?

Yeah.  It got ugly in Chi Town tonight.