DanThat'sCool!

 

Pardon me while I block that blinding spotlight with my sweaty Napalm.

 

 

 

I said I lost all the weight after getting the Lap-Band. Not a Lap Dance, you pageant moron.

 

 

 

Whoa. I don’t even have enough charge in my phone for all the texting I need to do after this is over.

 

 

Yo! Andy! Am I even in the shot? I didn’t get a new nose just to sit way over here on the end of some Borgata couch.

 

 

No. Seriously. Somebody needs to find my Blackberry right now. This is some cray cray good s*** going down right now.

 

 

Teresa. Stop it. You’re bad attitude is On Display. Which is still available on iTunes, by the way.

 

 

Napalm.

(nā päm) n. An aluminum soap of various fatty acids that when mixed with gasoline makes a firm jelly used in some bombs and in flamethrowers.

So there.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

(#RHONJ) n. An equally, if not more so, lethal combination of botox, fillers, glitter, stilettos and body oil that when mixed with Andy Cohen‘s boyish inquisitiveness can also blow your face off.

The More You Know.

And so The Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion began.  With an oily bang.

After the first ever back-to-back filming of two consecutive seasons of Joisey drama, it was finally time for everyone to reunite and to reignite all the explosive animosity that had been percolating while the rest of us got caught up with everything that went down in Season Four.

While TV Time made it seem pretty seamless, in Real Life Time it has been one full year since all the Wives gathered together under one roof.  That would probably explain not only the sweat on Andy’s upper lip as everyone settled in for the first of three…count ‘em THREE…reunion episodes, but also why there were a few new hairdo’s and noses on the set.  I guess Time tries to make everything prettier.

With Atlantic City hotel security on high alert and a S.W.A.T. team command center set up in the lobby, Andy welcomed everyone to the Borgata hotel, casino, spa and wrestling ring in beautiful Sin City and then got right down to bidnezz.

Like any good host, he attempted some smiley foreplay during the introductions by calling out everyone’s successes over the last year that they had been MIA.

Which is a great move, unless you are introducing people who haven’t really accomplished a lot since you last saw them.  Then it just gets awkward.

Teresa Giudice, who had traded in last year’s Star Trek reunion gown (…with the disco ball breast plate…) was now pretty much popping out of a highly saturated, and equally oiled up, green gown.  Knowing that as soon as she opened her mouth total chaos would ensue, I gave Tre the benefit of the doubt for starters and assumed that she must have been feeling under the weather, which could be the only explanation for why she had coated her fabuliciously boobilicious décolletage with so much Vicks VapoRub.

I know, right?  Nobody would grease up their junk like that on purpose, right?  You couldn’t even look directly at her breastesezz without squinting like Mama Manzo.

Despite the glare from her calzones, Andy managed to congratulate Teresa on 3 NYTimes best seller cookbooks before acknowledging sister-in-law Melissa Gorga‘s iTunes dance remixes.

As he moved on to Caroline “Yoda” Manzo, Andy already appeared to be running out of host steam because the best he could come up with was that he approved of her longer haircut.  Nice save, AC.

By the time he got to the very end of the couch and cousin Kathy Wakile (…ouch…that location can’t bode well for next season’s casting announcements…) Andy was really grasping for straws.  Instead of faking some success story though, he chose to simply just call Kathy out on a newly designed nose and overly injected lips before staging an impromptu one man intervention to try and put a stop to all the claymation before Girlfriend was totally unrecognizable on her DIY canoli box covers.

Andy had skimmed over Jacqueline Laurita because he wanted to come back to her for all the deets on why she skipped out on last year’s Reunion Show.  You don’t diss the King of Reality TV without a really good note from the principal, if you know what I mean.

Jacqueline began explaining “The Incident” at the Posche Fashion Show where Melissa had been confronted by that skeevy bald guy claiming that she used to dance for him at a strip club.  Being a self confessed texting tweetaholic, you’ll remember that Jacqueline’s cell was literally on fire that evening as everyone in Jersey was letting her know (…via text and/or 140 characters or less…) that Teresa was in on Strippergate the whole time.

I say she “began” explaining, because as soon as Jacqueline opened her mouth Caroline grabbed the wheel and steered the conversation right into Teresa’s shiny face, accusing Tre of setting up the whole thing to humiliate Melissa.  Jacqueline couldn’t have agreed more, and swore she had a Blackberry full of proof while Mama Manzo’s patented ManzoHand flapped around like she was bringing in aircraft at JFK.

To which Teresa replied “Prove it, Bitch.”

And then it was on.  Like Donkey Kong.

Jacqueline and Teresa went a few more rounds over the Posche Show and surprisingly got nowhere.  But it did give me time to wonder out loud why these women keep going to this stupid fashion show if it always ends up in a throw down.  I mean, really.

How many times do you have to get burned before you stop putting your face on the stove?  Stay home and watch Project: Runway for chrissake.

Melissa and her newly lightened hair got into the fray for a few seconds as she tried to explain why she never RSVP’s to anything at Teresa’s house, and that she doesn’t just drop off presents at Gia‘s school and then run away like she’s the UPS man.

It all made sense when you watched it even though for the life of me I can’t remember how Strippergate turned into Gia’s birthday party.  But trust me, it did.

Then it was back to Jacqueline again, and her hot mess daughter Ashley.  Or Ashlee.  Or whatever it is on Twitter now.

Having survived 3 days of gas leaking from a stove and never feeling any more stoned than she felt when she lived at home, Ashlee seemed to be maturing and growing into her new role as an adult.  At least that’s how it seemed on Skype.  And we know that the internet never lies, right?

The show then shifted into a bit of a downer for a few moments as Jacqueline and Caroline melted down over video of Jacqueline’s autistic son and had a good cry.

Melissa teared up as well and did that soap opera tissue dab thing that I guess you’re supposed to always do if you’re wearing too much eye liner.

It was hard to tell what was going on with Kathy’s new face, but she seemed a little moved, too.  But I can’t swear to it.

Teresa on the other hand, with that unexplainable gift that she has, somehow managed to turn a young boy’s battle with Autism back onto herself again and Caroline blew a nutty.

An industrial, Manzo-sized nutty.

Caroline called out Teresa for her F***ing Christmas Pageant dress.  Teresa called out Mama Manzo as an Old Hag.  I called my cable company to find out why even though I set my DVR to record Bravo TV I was somehow watching a TLC Show about bratty kids who scream and yell and throw things until one of those overseas Nannies comes to America and spanks them.

These are grown women, right?

And speaking of TLC.  And Honey Boo Boo Child.  Love.  Her.

Did anyone notice that Bravo TV stole a few Redneck Reality tips from the Boo and started subtitling conversations that are already in simple English?

I mean, yeah.  The Wives were whispering.  But I could still hear them talking smack about Teresa.  But subtitling what you can already understand is cool now, thanks to the Boo.  There’s no escaping the power of the Dolla Holla.

Redneckognize it, bitches.

Then Andy got it all back on track and gave us a Jacqueline and Teresa’s Friendship: The Early Years montage.

After a few snickers over nuts in a chocolate ball and a sex tape that will hopefully never see the light of day, it was clear that these two women don’t stand a chance of ever getting back to where they were before everything fell apart.  Not a chance.  You heard it here first, folks.

Jacqueline finger pointed her accusations that all Teresa cared about was exposing Melissa and Kathy even before they joined the show.  Forget the fact that Melissa was, or was not, or maybe still is or will be a stripper.  Teresa seemed more horrified that it took Kathy 40 years to get her first designer handbag.

I know, right?  You can get a pretty decent one at Marshall’s.  No excuses, honey.

Teresa made it clear for the bazillionth time that everyone on Earth is jealous of her and that everyone wants to be her.  Or at least that was the implication after a few more screaming matches and another In Touch magazine cover story.

Gah.  We get it.

Next up, Andy decided to bully the bully for a few minutes and cornered Caroline on her behavior this season.  He schooled her.  And she owned it.

And then she made room on the couch for the new and improved Lauren Manzo 2012 model.  But she didn’t have to make as much room as she used to, because daughter Lauren had lost over 35 pounds with a simple Lap-Band procedure and was now a sleeker, slimmed down version of the mopey girl we suffered through all season.

Baby Manzo looked pretty good in her leather dress.  I’ll give her that one.  And now that she doesn’t use her mouth for eating, it apparently allows her more time for yelling and swearing as she unleashed on Teresa.  Granted, Tre asked for it by tossing Lauren a low blow about the Manzo boys never working before the discovery of the Blk Waterfall, but screeching “Dick Head” tends to make you a little less of a lady.   Just saying.

Que the next Manzo nutty.  A split screen nutty, so you knew it was gonna be good.

Teresa went off on Caroline’s previous tummy tuck and how she couldn’t help but notice that Caroline had brought 3 new, pretty hefty fat rolls to the Borgata for the Reunion Show.

Caroline proudly owned those fat rolls.  Just like she owned her filler-free face, which probably unintentionally caught Jacqueline in the crossfire, considering that she had just pointed out her new Laurita cheekbones to Andy a few minutes earlier.

Lauren almost burst the seam on her new skinny dress as she compared Teresa’s manic behavior to high school bullies who raise the nation’s suicide rate, and then made a pretty smooth segue into Teresa not writing her own blogs.

By the time Lauren tried forcing Teresa into giving the definition, correct spelling and proper use in a sentence of the word Napalm, Andy had to finally step in and send Lauren back out to the craft service table for some solid food.

Then it all just fell apart.

Melissa told Teresa to turn around and look at her, because she was tired of talking to her weave.  Oh, snap.  I’m totally gonna use that at the office.

Which in turn caused Teresa to call out Melissa, on national television no less, for wearing last year’s glitter eye shadow.  Last year’s!  The glitter eye shadow that Teresa had already worn to the Season 3 Reunion Show.

Yeah.  She went there.  Bitch Stole My Look.  A year later.

Then it careened into Teresa whoring out her kid Gia in a celebrity gossip magazine article.  Seriously.  Is it any wonder I spend so much time at CVS with all this good cash register reading out there?  Inquiring minds, and all.

Moving on to stealing recipes that have been around since Italians discovered Italy, Teresa slammed Kathy a few more times.  She even let everyone know that she had created a book report outline listing all the times that Kathy’s husband Richie had made fun of her, mouthed off and/or laid his hands on Teresa.

An outline?  Like on paper?

Right.  Spell Napalm and then we’ll talk.

Finally, I guess the two things that you’re not supposed to drag into any Housewife fight are kids or dead parents.  You might want to write that one down in your own private outline for future reference.

Because after Kathy called Teresa’s Mother a F***ing liar, Teresa bit back with a slam against Kathy’s now deceased Dad, and then all the wheels on the Crazy Bus fell off.

Let’s just say that Part One ended with loads of Honey Boo Boo subtitling as Kathy’s sister Rosie Pierri went certifiably whackadoodle backstage after Teresa spoke ill of the Dead.  (Damn those Green Room monitors!)

Whackadoodle to the point where she threatened to (bleep) the (bleepin’) tongue out of her (bleepin’) mouth and began trashing the back of the Borgata like Butchzilla terrorizing a Japanese Pride Parade.

I’ll say it.  We loooove Rosie.  But she’s scary when she’s mad.  Really scary.

As the hotel went on lockdown and Andy tried to uncork one of the gigantic keggers behind the couch, Rosie toppled a lighting tripod, stepped on two tourists and headed towards the couches.

To be continued…

 

Raise your hands if you are so over the whole thing already and it’s only the second episode.

 

 

Raise your hands if you feel like a lean, mean meatball punching machine.

 

 

 

Raise your hands if you got beat up by an Italian string bean wearing glasses.

 

 

 

Raise your hands if you still think you’re the prettiest. Duh.

 

 

 

Raise your hands if you know what nuts are, but still think boys give you wicked cooties.

 

 

Seriously?  This is only the second episode?

Ever since The Real Housewives of New Jersey chose to piggy back the filming of this new season right on top of last year’s drama, the whole thing has been messing with my head.  It’s already starting to blur together and we’re only in week number two.  Or week number 21 if you count last year.  Or week number 23 if you count the Reunion Shows.

Or week number 97 if you have absolutely no hobbies and watched all the marathons.

Whatever you choose to call it, the whole thing is certainly a great opportunity to talk some serious smack and sell cookbooks.

And nobody has mastered the delicate balance between trash talk and shameless self promotion better than Teresa Giudice.

After turning every relationship in her life upside down by the middle of page one, Teresa had immediately assembled a team of back-up dancers and set off on the first leg of her It Was Only A Joke So Please Buy My Cookbook World Tour.

The goal apparently being to park the Giudice Apology Bus in as many locations as possible between home and the next Barnes & Noble book signing, in order to salvage what remained of her family and friends and maybe save some gas money at the same time.

Hey…Jabba Joe’s court fees ain’t cheap.

But poor Teresa wasn’t the only one with drama.

The episode started out with the Hot Mess Ashlee Show.  Or Ashley.  Or however she spells it on Twitter this week.

Ashlee was OMG freaking out.  Jacqueline and Chris had finally grown a couple pairs and kicked Ash’s sorry bleached a** out of the house.

She was being deported to Las Vegas to live with her Aunt and Uncle, and the moving process was not going smoothly.  Not by a long shot.  As Jacqueline and little chapeau-wearing baby boy Nicholas watched the clock, Ashlee tried to pack 20 years of bad living into one rolling suitcase.

But she couldn’t find anything, and OMG she hated her life. OMG.  Hated.  It.

Honey…a little advise:  I would spend less time looking for your missing whatevers and more time looking for your root touch-up brush.  And maybe a mirror.  What looks hot in da klubz ain’t cutting’ it in bright daylight.  Just saying.

By the time one of the interchangeable Manzo boys showed up to chauffeur the Wild Child to the airport, Ashlee had found enough of something to fill the suitcase and dramatically dragged it down the staircase like there was a body inside.

Turned out it was Albie who had drawn the short straw on this project, as he rolled his eyes and heaved both Ash and her luggage into the waiting getaway car.

Given the fact that Ashlee’s two most favorite things in the whole world are drama and Twitter, she has subconsciously or otherwise, somehow managed to merge them into one overly dramatic personality that appears to only speak in 140 characters or less.

I hate my life.  I put a straw in Nyquil.  I hate planes.  OMG.  I wish I was 21.

You get the idea.

If Albie didn’t have twenty cases of blk water stored in the back of the car he probably would have just swerved into ongoing traffic and called it a day.

As Albie looked for an ejector seat button, Mom Caroline was taking daughter Lauren to see someone about her baby fat.

Lauren, who has always lived in the immense shadows cast by both her two brothers and her own fluctuating weight, has been feeling pretty down lately.  Trying to break into the cosmetic industry requires a ton of work, but not necessarily a ton of body mass.

Caroline brought her to see Dr. Nicholas Perricone because according to Sephora and QVC, the dude knows his shizzle.  If they sell it at JCPenney then it must be good enough for Lauren, and maybe they could pick up some socks for the boys while they’re there.

When asked some background questions by Dr. P, Lauren was immediately cut off by Caroline who went on and on in that Italian Yoda way that she does, about sausages and pepperoni binging.

Poor Lauren.  No wonder she eats…nothing else to do.  She can’t get a word in edgewise.  Girlfriend needs something to keep her occupied while Mom rambles.  Shoveling down garlic bread sure beats sitting in silence, I guess.

Dr. P sets Lauren up with a nasty looking egg and berry diet, a JCP gift card and the promise of a size 4 Chanel dress if she can keep her face out of the lasagna tray for a few months.  I think Jennifer Hudson was even singing in the parking lot when they drove away.

I Believe in You and Me, baby.  Now spit that out.

It’s a good thing that Lauren can’t have pepperoni and cheese for awhile, because Jabba Joe just shut down his pizza joint.

Sporting his trademark shiny sweat face and muscle tee, Joe explained to Teresa why the pizza place went under as they stood at the empty counter.

The long version is that he didn’t have a license, so he couldn’t always get to the pizza place, so he got a new license and then got sent “away” for 10 days and the place fell apart, because no one but Joe knows how to make pizza dough, and it is what it is and he’ll figure it out.

The short version is that he scammed an illegal license, can’t manage a business and was too cheap to take a cab to work.

So Joe’s moving on to his next project:  Putting a small gas station owner out of business, leveling the place and building senior citizens condos on top of the fuel pump holes.

In the What A Surprise Department…Ashlee missed her flight and didn’t make it onto the only other standby flight.  WTF?  Who knew not looking up from your cell phone for a solid hour could do that?

OMG.  I’m such an idiot.  Sad face with a sideways tongue.  For someone who spends so much time online complaining about how Bravo edits the show to make her look bad, you’d think Ms. Holmes would have listened for the final boarding call instead of putzing around with her Instagram app.

Before the entire gang could even gather at Jacqueline’s for the celebratory She’s Finally Gone meatball dinner, Ashlee strolled back into the house, phone in hand.  It was quickly decided that Chris would take her to the airport tomorrow and physically get her on to that plane even if he had to do it Bird Strike Style, because that chick was NOT coming back a second time.

With everyone gathered around the kitchen island, Teresa recited another one of her flash card apologies, but it didn’t sound any more sincere than the last four.

All the menfolk bailed to play poker, leaving all the womenfolk to clean the kitchen and circle Teresa like hyenas.  Right when it looked like one of the Wives might shake off their pasta hangover long enough to throw down with Teresa, there was a loud commotion in the boys’ room.  We didn’t get to actually see what went down, but everyone had the 411 the following morning.

Oh that crazy Jabba Joe.  That crazy, sweaty, blubbery, half drunk Jabba Joe.  Always the life of the party.

After running through his usual tired DBag shtick poking fun at Joe Gorga’s receding hairline and short stature, string bean Richie Wakile played WingMan and came to Joe G’s rescue.  Somehow, by needling Jabba about his own short-comings the whole thing escalated into Jabba making a grab for Richie’s junk, which sent the two of them tumbling over a sofa like Krystal and Alexis.

Jabba face planted into an iron candle holder while Richie did a Pee Wee Herman victory dance.

Tequila!

Sporting a black eye, Jabba described to Teresa and their horrified little girls how Richie’s pants were filled with tiny marbles and then popped open some wine.  Why?  Because he had to babysit the girls while Teresa went to her book signing, and nothing helps focus on babysitting young children like a wine buzz.

Some of that alcohol would have come in handy to sterilize one of the girl’s knees when she cut herself, but Jabba was too relaxed to really care.  There was some screaming, some crying and some other kids coming to the rescue before Jabba finally scuffed over to make sure his little girl was hemorrhaging.  I don’t even know how many Giudice kids there really are anymore.

They keep saying four, but you only see three most of the time.  And they all wear the same clothes and have the same cartoon eyebrows…so I don’t know.

Kids today.  You tell one nut story and they go all spaz on you.

The Gorga kids, on the other hand, did not seem as horrified by the tale of junk grabbing when Joe filled everyone in during a drive around town.  Melissa seemed more taken aback by the whole flashback than the kids did as they swung around iPhones and high-fived imaginary friends.

I’m thinking that could be at least partially due to the fact that Joe G. is constantly walking around the house grabbing his own niblets in that never ending prowl for booty.

Really can’t believe Andy Cohen hasn’t made that a ClubHouse drinking game yet.  The guy is a horndog.

Any bets that the Gorga kids think the Poison Control Center is an 1-800 phone sex line?

And speaking of…

Melissa wrote a song for Joe, to prove how much she loves him and to let the world know she ain’t no Gold Digger.

After stumbling through a few practice sessions, Melissa finished the track and set up a romantic date night dinner for the official release.  Knowing that Joe would pounce on her in a heart beat, she had him stationed half a mile away at the other end of the dining room table like a medieval Italian feast.  You’d think by now that she would know nothing but an electric fence is going to keep that dog out of the neighborhood bushes.

As soon as she cranked up the Macbook and hit play, he was on her like Pepe Le Pew and we never saw them again.  I sing to you of Jungle Love, mon cheri.

Finally it was Ashlee On A Plane, Take 2.

For the second trip to the airport, Ash had chomped down half a Xanax and somehow in the process forgotten her iPod somewhere.  OMG.  She hates her life.  She also hates elevators, heights, unicorns and American Idol.  The list went on and on, and now the big question is whether the Xanax made her even more of a snot or if it was all just for attention.

Jacqueline didn’t know, and pretty much didn’t care, even though she did break down looking at baby pictures while Chris was shoving Ashlee into an overhead compartment.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped seal the cockpit door and even pulled the loading gate staircase away from the plane with his bare hands.

They just needed her to be gone.

And now she was.

TTFN.

Sad kitty face.

@ashleeholmes

 

 

Then I was all like…whatever, bitch.

 

 

 

Then they push your head down like this and call you their prison girlfriend.

 

 

 

Then I thanked the Baby Jesus for making me the pretty one.

 

 

 

Then after I sniff all this I don’t even remember I’m a Giudice, and it all goes away.

 

 

 

Then I’ze gonna nail her like a Home Depot project.

 

 

Don’t be alarmed.

The sound you just heard was simply a stampede of Prostitution Whores running for cover, which can only mean one thing.

She’s back.  And she brought friends.

Or at least they used to be friends.  Now I’m not sure what they’re called.

But regardless…they’re all back.

And it’s all going down.  Down to the shore.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey just returned for another season and wasted no time stirring that big spaghetti pot of drama.

Apparently Television Time, or at least Bravo TV Time, doesn’t work off of the same clock that you and I do, so Teresa (…say my last name 5 different ways…) Giudice and the gang pretty much picked up right where we left them all those many months ago.

Since the previous season was so dysfunctionally tasty, and Teresa’s life was still such a guaranteed hot mess, Andy Cohen and the Gods of Reality were quick to think on their feet and filmed this new season right on top of the one that just wrapped.

That means that all the Giudice vs Gorga head butting is still as fresh as the day it came out of the oven, with only a TV Time break for the 14 part Reunion Show.

It’s like time stood still.

So welcome to Season 4.  Or Season 3.5.  Or Season 3 SuperSized.

To steal Teresa’s nervous go-to line…Whatever.

It was still Summer in Joisey as we got reacquainted with The Family.  Everyone was trying to deal with the less than glowing remarks that Teresa had laid down in her second cookbook.

Though Teresa (…ok, allegedly…everyone happy?….) didn’t appear to be very hands-on in creating the recipes or even lighting the stove’s pilot light, she did find time to stick it to a few of her closest family members as soon as you cracked the cover of the book.

Between implying that a part-time Olive Garden waiter had more Italian DNA than Caroline, and that sister-in-law Melissa stalks Teresa’s front yard at night with an infrared camera so she can copy her style when Crate & Barrel opens in the morning, Mrs. Giudice also managed to slam Caroline’s son and his bikini car wash before we even got to the first recipe.

And if there’s one thing we’ve all learned over the years, you don’t mess with the Manzo Family.  You just don’t.

Summer in New Jersey always means cookouts and shirtless Guidos, so there were plenty of weenies to be had as the Gorgas and the Wakiles enjoyed a poolside picnic.

Bro Joe Gorga, his newly waxed chest and BluBlocker model Richie were all trying to figure out what was really going on inside Teresa’s head as they grilled up some dogs and made little meat jokes.

Seriously.  Richie.  I don’t think that even railroad iron welders are provided the level of eye protection that Richie wears.  Dude does likes his shades.

Kathy and Melissa usually play the Can’t We All Get Along card more than the boys, but even they have their breaking points.  Kathy’s made for Reality TV sister Rosie took time out from whatever it is she does, and was more than happy to do a little Teresa bashing.

I love Rosie.

Between last season’s never ending Chelsea Dock runway couture, to her self deprecating humor and that  punch you in the face if you get in mine attitude, she is one ManChick that you do not want to mess with.

In retrospect, she is also one ManChick that you probably should never refer to as a ManChick.  Someday I just need to start taking my own advice.

Over at Jacqueline’s, the aforementioned Manzo Famiglia were also getting together for some snacks.  Apparently having drawn the short straw, they had also invited Teresa’s entire circus to join them, and were all trying to get in their Giudice Gossip before the caravan actually showed.  Luckily, Teresa has never been on time in her life so they didn’t have to rush through any of the good stuff.

On top of the tension between Teresa and the rest of NJ, Jacqueline was still dealing with Wild Child  Ashley.

Except now she’s Ashlee in Real World Time.  And now she’s a seriously over processed blonde.  And Mom said she had tattoos, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.

Honey.  Listen to me.  Tweaking your name might buy you some time when they are compiling all your DUIs, and maybe even score you a Grand Supreme Miss Pretty Face if you were 13 years younger.  But trust me…you’re still a sloppy mess who can’t figure out how to piece together a Dyson vacuum.  Give it up.

When Teresa finally decided to show, she and Caroline scooted outside for a minute to deal with the Cookbookgate controversy.

As Caroline massaged the side of her face to prevent an oncoming stroke, Teresa slipped right into full denial mode and couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t think the cookbook jokes were funny.

Umm.  One…they weren’t jokes.  Two…they weren’t funny.  How ’bout that?

Caroline just wasn’t in the mood, so she forced out one of those fake hugs you give that creepy uncle with the unzipped fly and then went back in for leftovers.

Then it was time to pack for the beach, because most of the gang was headed to the beach.  The Jersey Shore!

Relax.  Not that one.  Not the Snookie one.  Gross.

Well…yeah, it is the same shore…if you want to get technical.

And horny Bro Joe was going on and on about the Smush Room even while he and Melissa were packing up their zip lock bag full of nasties.  He’s like a dog that never stops humping your leg at dinner.

And Richie probably does own a pair of those light up glasses for the club, but hopefully the Housewives and Househusbands aren’t going to be passing out on the boardwalk with their naughty bits all blurred out on camera.

Hopefully.

Getting all of the Giudices out of the house is always good for some laughs, and this time didn’t disappoint either.

As Teresa tried to rope up Gia, Audriana, Gabriella and Milania like they were sheep that somehow got out of the barn, greasy Jabba Joe was dumping a full Tupperware garbage can of Alpo into paint buckets to feed what appeared to be wild wolves that roam their yard.

After he fed the livestock, Joe also hoisted a ginormous mound of tied up plastic tarp over his shoulder like Lou Ferrigno’s stubby, chubby Italian stunt double and heaved it onto the roof of the car.

Memo to Joe for next time:  Check to see if your camping gear is infested with rats before you transport it across city lines.  When they got to the beach house and unleashed those rodents, GottaPeeAh and Mexicana and Espadrilla all jumped on the table like Hooters Girls.  Good practice for later in life when Daddy is serving time, I guess.

Since having everyone all under one roof would cause the Jersey Shore to implode, Teresa and Jabba Joe had their own digs while Bro Joe and Melissa bunked with Kathy and Richie down the block.

Melissa’s new dream beach house was far from being completed, so they couldn’t sleep in their own home quite yet.  As the construction overseer guy, Joe couldn’t remember to install toilets but he made certain that the bedroom had enough soundproof insulation blown behind the sheetrock to handle a Rolling Stones concert.

Daddy likes it quiet while he’s serving a wedge of his Gorgazola cheese, if you know what I mean.  I swear when he dies they’re going to have to bury him with the lid still open until the swelling goes down.

Over at the Giudice beach digs, Teresa wanted to talk to Jabba about a few issues.

Personally, the first one I would have addressed would have been why he insists on never wearing a shirt or doing sit ups.  That’s what I want to know.

Beyonce is right.  I am not so ready for that jelly, dude.

I could care less about what he thinks they should do with all the magazine covers that Chia and DingDongBella are starting to read at Target.

Just put your shirt on.  And make it a hoodie.

Teresa is concerned about all the gossip surrounding whether or not Joe is going to jail.  Now I’ve met a lot of dopey people in my short career as a freak-seeker, but Jabba is right up there in the Top Five.

Unless one of the beach patrolmen just accidentally shot him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart, Joe has to be be the most blahhdoofiest guy I’ve ever come across.

He’s so blahhdoofy that I think I just made up a word.

Trust me.  I’m Exhibit A.  Nobody likes waking up, but sooner or later you snap out of that fog.  I bet my salary Joe’s been in that fog since elementary school.

Back up the Expressway in the ‘burbs, they were filming a commercial for the blk water that Albie and Chris launched last season.  Or at least that’s what I thought they were doing, until I realized that it was just Caroline, Jacqueline and Lauren power walking through the neighborhood.

Just power walking.  All in black and white.  All holding bottles of blk.  With the blk logo on Lauren’s plus size tshirt.

That’s just what I want when I exercise.  A nice big gulp of black Jersey water.  Am I the only one who noticed that nobody took a swig out of any of those bottles?

Impressive color-coordinated product placement though.  Props to the ad guy.

Next week Teresa will be driving the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile to her hair appointment.

Back at the beach, Teresa and Bro Joe plopped it down to discuss the same thing they’ve been discussing since last year’s shows.  They just replaced the christening and the book signing with all-weather adirondack chairs.

Teresa was still in denial, and Bro Joe was still frustrated.  They went on and on about the InTouch Magazine story and Jabba Joe’s debt, and Jabba Joe’s jail time, and Jabba Joe’s DMV scam and blah to the Jabbah Joe to the blah.

There was also some confusion as to why Bro Joe never called when Jabbah Joe “went away,” which is preschool talk for a week in the slammer being someone’s cell bitch.

Before anything was really settled, Teresa started in with the “whatever, Joe” thing again and you knew this one was going nowhere.  But they’re family.  One big screwed up family.

While everyone else was sunning and gossiping, Jacqueline and Chris were back home dealing with the Wild Child.

After giving Ashley/Ashlee more than ample time to get her s*** together and also figure out how to attach the Dyson carpet nozzle without poking her own eye out, Chris was done with the drama.

Ultimatum.

Agree to move in with Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary out in Las Vegas, or get kicked out of the house in the morning.  How they think that sending a 24/7 party girl to Las Vegas will tone all that down is beyond me, but I’m not a parent so I’ll let Chris be the Bad Cop in this one.

When Ash complained that she already had made drinking plans with friends that were home from school and that getting kicked out would like OMG totally interfere with the club scene, it was pretty clear that she had lost her grip on reality.

She also appeared to have lost her Clairol root touch-up brush, because Girrrrrl…that hair was looking shady.  Don’t make me mess up my Housewives and get all NeNe on that bad weave.

Fix yo’ face…and yo’ hair…and then we’ll talk.

So it looked like Ashley, or Ashlee, or both of them are out the door in the morning because she agreed to the Las Vegas scene.

And no one held anyone’s head under water down at the shore.  So it looks like everyone survived the first week back.

But never say never in New Jersey.