DanThat'sCool!

 

 

See? All this talk about giving each other fat lips has hurt her feelings. Happy now?

 

 

 

 

 

You want maybe I should throw some Gangsta Rap beats down on yo’ head?

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah? Well anybody else here have a book AND two huge shelves like these to put it on?

 

 

 

 

 

Mob Wives: Chicago? Seriously? Those bitches wish.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m about to go all Star Jones on somebody’s a** if they don’t sit down.

 

 

 

 

Dear Wendy Williams:

You can have your old gig back.  These bitches are (bleeped) up.

I’m outta here.

Sincerely, Joy Behar.

……………………………

It was Round Two of the Mob Wives Reunion Rumble, and poor Joy was in so far over her Sally Jesse Raphael wannabe head that I expected Barbara Walters to swoop in at any minute and carry her off the set before she ruined all of The View’s Tough Chick street cred. 

It’s one thing to bully Hollywood celebrities and any politicians that go up against the Behar Beliefs, but when it comes to holding down Drita D’Avanzo and Ramona Rizzo, Joy should have just packed up her stuff and left early to beat traffic.

This week picked right up where we left the Wives last week, with everyone in one chaotic pig pile trying to keep Drita and Ramona from latching on to the meaty part of each other’s necks.

Instead of discussing what went down at Renee’s Celebration of Life rooftop party, the two Wives had decided to attempt a bloody reenactment and everyone from cameramen to makeup girls to the poor schmo from Poland Springs who just happened to be delivering water bottles for the kraft table were all called in to keep them separated in the middle of the studio.

As Joy sat comfortably back in her chair (…they don’t stand up for nuthin on The View except free food and Patti LaBelle performances, thank you…) everyone else ran around like Ricky And Fred when Lucy’s water broke.

Renee continued bellowing her NoNoNoNo war cry while Karen tried to block Ramona’s tackle.  Everyone was (bleepin’) and screaming and screaming and (bleepin’) as Drita tried unsuccessfully to exit the set with all her extensions and animal print press-on nails still attached.

Maybe it was just me, but I swear that one cameraman was actually Joey Fatone, which could be very possible considering no one has really seen much of him since that freaky light saber tango on Dancing With The Stars.  Joey and Jennifer Graziano cut off the stampede like Red Rover Olympians, which finally allowed Drita to scoot behind the cameras and cool off before returning to the couch.

When Drita was securely strapped down, Joey went back behind the camera to sulk about the whole Justin Timberlake superstardom thing.  Ramona went back to her opposite corner and did that tongue across her teeth thing that she always does when she is pissed off, and Joy tried to regain control of her show.

With much the same tone, and with basically the same results that one would expect when you tell a newborn puppy not to pee on the carpet, Joy told Drita and Ramona to sit down and not get up.

Good luck with that.

I think you can imagine how successfully that one went over, as Ramona accused Drita of ‘taking off like a G6′ when they saw each other in Las Vegas.

For those of you less versed in hip hop terminology, Ramona pretty much called out Drita for being chicken s***, which I’m pretty sure you don’t want to do when she is within spitting distance of your face.

That ignited a whole (bleepin’) Single White Female throw down over who copied who and who’s a crumb snatcher and who’s just a bitch trying to jump another bitch on the roof.  There was also a highly elevated discussion regarding the compromise of the Inner Circle, and who should just go back to East Arabia or wherever the (bleep) you came from, bitch.

There was generally just a lot of bitching about who came into the Staten Island Mob World first.  Picture the Chicken vs. The Egg argument, but with stilettos and bling and the word bitch used too much.

Next on the index card was a segue to Karen and Drita’s dysfunctional relationship.

Since I don’t fully believe that Joy Behar has ever watched an episode of this show, I’m sure that the cards must have come in pretty handy.

As Karen sucked in her newly thinned down cheekbones, we got to relive their tumultuous on again/off again friendship.  They’ve shared many experiences.  Many highs, many lows and quite possibly…many men.

But luckily, and I speak for anyone out there with eyes or any other working senses, they never shared that Macy’s Moment.

Yeah.  That one.

The one where Karen told us what Drita could do to her in front of Macy’s.

I still can’t watch the Macy’s Parade without wondering if one of the clowns holding the Snoopy string is going to step in something sticky and cause the balloon to careen off course, possibly injuring hundreds of innocent kids who came in on a New Jersey YMCA bus trip.  Even though she didn’t go through with it, Karen has forever scarred me on Thanksgiving.

I can’t even spoon the stuffing out of the bird without getting car sick.

Moving on.

Next it was our boost of testosterone as Joe Ferragamo and Dave Seabrook joined the party.

Joy welcomed the fellows with a hilariously uncomfortable ‘Welcome Felons’ and some polite laughter, most likely after confirming that the metal detectors were still plugged in back stage, then proceeded to ask the boys what crimes got them sent to jail in the first place.

Joe flexed his dimples and proudly listed off a resume page full of money crimes, while Dave just responded with ‘Lots.’

After Karen squirmed a little, Dave calmed everyone down by reassuring them that it was only attempted murder…not real murder.  Relax, people.

Phew.  At least it was only attempted.

Cue the romance montage.

It was a Hallmark moment as we watched my TV girlfriend Big Ang talk smack about her sanitation worker husband.  He may cheat and stay out all night, but the guy looks like Russell Crowe and has a pension.

Ok.  Hold up for just a second.

I don’t even think the guy who picks up the trash in the Hamptons could look like Russell Crowe, so I think the pension may be clouding her vision.

If a guy looked like Russell Crowe, chances are he would be doing something besides picking up recyclables every other Tuesday…or he would actually be Russell Crowe.

But I still love me some Big Ang, even when she is delusional.

The flashbacks also showed us Carla and Joe’s strange relationship, which came complete with marital infidelity, a new third wheel younger girlfriend and Carla’s hands off me, dude policy.

Someday we’ll hopefully get to find out how Joe learned to be such a horny tease behind prison walls, but probably not anytime soon.  So for now it’s simply left to our imaginations, hotel room pay-per-views and any random off color stories I may choose to fabricate.

Dave and Karen tripped over each other a little when asked what was going to happen with little Karina. Karen’s daughter is apparently in limbo, since Dave will be returning to Arizona while Karen remains on the East Coast.

Though they couldn’t agree on something as insignificant as child care, they were both clearly on the same page when it came to knockin’ boots behind closed doors.

Karen again praised Dave’s bedroom swagger, which sent all the other Wives off on a school girl tangent trying to come up with as many synonyms for doing the nasty as they could before the next commercial break.

It’s probably a safe bet that both Joy and Joey Fatone wanted to just get up and leave right about the time that Ramona came up with the ‘laying down the pipe’ visual and Renee spit her gum out onto that gigantic Ikea rug.

Joy fumbled her way around some more romance talk as we learned that the fake Russell Crowe can really get it down in the bedroom, which I found kind of strange since that is the opposite of what he should be doing, correct?  But it made Big Ang do her Herman Munster again and I love every quart of saline in her body, so it’s all good.

In what will probably be the most Googled question of the entire two weeks of drama, Joy asked Ramona straight up about her incarcerated boyfriend Joe.

(I’ve lost track of how many Joe’s and AJ’s are on this show.  Don’t waste your time emailing me.  Between the Mob and the Giudices, I can’t keep up anymore.)

We finally got his name, which was a start.  But Ramona was still vague on why Joe was pulled over on the highway by 7 police cars and never heard from again.  Everyone looked around the room at each other like you do on an elevator when you smell something funny, and then the discussion was over.

Renee broke the tension by announcing that she loves the criminals.  They have financial stability.  When they lose their job, they can still provide for their family.

Honestly, at that point, I wasn’t sure if Renee’s meds had just kicked in or just worn off.

Luckily before Renee could ramble on any longer, my TV Lover Big Ang took over and gave us some details on her arrest for possession and selling of cocaine way back in the day.  It was a sordid tale of betrayal by her then BFF who had been wired up, à la Junior’s Dick Tracy watch, and sold her down the river to the Feds.

Big Ang even had to be clamped into one of those Lindsay Lohan ankle bracelets during her house arrest, and she vowed to never be a Rat after that experience.

Then we went around the room so everyone could brag about their arrest record, and the process somehow made Carla look like the odd one out for never having been fingerprinted.  It was another one of those classic Mob Wives Moments when you’re not sure they know that being arrested is a bad thing, at least according to most job application forms.

But then Big Ang laughed again, and suddenly everything seemed ok.

For some comic relief, Joy turned on the official Mob Wives Swear Counter and ran through a season’s worth of Renee’s potty mouth as numbers flew by like we were at the Indy 500.  I thought for certain this would be a 3 hour show until they sped up the counter and we tallied up 407 times this season that someone had to (bleep) out Renee’s (bleepin’ bleeps.)

Can you imagine the intern who drew that short straw and had to sit threw an entire season’s worth of reels with one of those hand clickers they use to count grocery store customers?

Talk about carpal tunnel in one week.

I feel sorry for whoever that was, because their cramped hands will probably never recover enough to snap and clap along with the gangsta rappin’ stylings of Drita and her Bad Boy music video, which we revisited next.

Drita spit the beats and robbed the bank like a pro, and even gave the Mob Wives a mention in her rap.  Karen claimed that the line about ‘crickets chirping’ was a dig at all the gossipy Wives, but Drita shot back that it was only a generalization against all the gossipy haters out there in Staten Island.

Sensing another rumble, Joy quickly shifted gears to Karen’s Mob Daughter book, which had so far hogged 7 weeks on the NYT Best Sellers list.  It probably could have hogged another week if Drita had bought a copy, but she was quick to mention that she hadn’t read it and clearly had no intention of reading the rag.

Then the crickets were back again.  But this time they were silent as Karen glared at Drita and everyone took one step closer just in case they had to run defense on the floor again.

But everyone remained seated, and the show finished off with one last attempt to stir up the Drita vs. Ramona feud.

The phrase was ‘agree to keep it cordial.’

Which in Mob Wives lingo means ‘I’ll kick your a** next season.’

When Renee dropped to her knees in a Staten Island Halleloo, it looked more like she was ducking out of the line of fire than actual thanking Baby Jesus.

Trust me.  It ain’t over till the Fat Lady sings.

Or when she goes over the rooftop railing and lands on the hood of a passing taxi.

See you next season.

I’ll be throwing down with the bitches in Chicago if you need me.

 

 

If I can make Al Pacino cry, then youz better watch whatchoo say to Lucifina Rizzo. Capiche?

 

 

 

I swear to Gawd, if I hear that Donnie Brasco story one more time, I’m gonna Unleash the Beast right on her face.

 

 

 

 

And then I put on my invisible Indian headdress and pretend I’m Cher while they fight.

 

 

 

 

 

Dat’s rite. My teeth are whiter, and her boobs look amazing. Haters gonna hate.

 

 

 

 

Whoa. And all     these years I thought Hasselbeck was the biggest bitch.

 

 

 

Today’s episode of Mob Wives: Reunion Part One is brought to you by the letter “F.”

And U…and C…and…well…you get my drift.

Get a snack or break this bad boy up into two readings, because we have a lot to cover.  Pay attention.

The ladies may clean up nice with their designer dresses and Louboutin red soles, but somebody obviously forgot to wash out their mouths during the pre-show hair and makeup session, because there were so many (bleeped) out (bleeps) that VH1 more than likely just signaled an alien Mothership through unintentionally transmitted morse code.

But that’s why we love them Wives so much.

And just because I’m nosey, I’m dying to know which was higher…the wardrobe budget or the overtime payroll for the guy working the (bleepin’) censor button.  I’m going to assume that both departments were approved for cash advances, because within the first two minutes of the show it was clear that both the Fashions and the F bombs were bumped up a notch or two this week.

Andy Cohen…are you listening?  All those Real Housewives could actually take a note or two from the Mob.

The Mob Wives were all decked out in their fancy clothes and accessorized with all the obligatory Staten Island bling.  But unlike the last few Bravo TV Reunions, these girls all had their makeup pretty much under control and didn’t come across half as greasy as their Jersey and Atlanta sisters.

I mean…it can’t just be me, right? Was that WD-40 on NeNe’s legs?  How do you  even keep those things crossed when they’re that slippery?

One wrong move and…Bloop!…Hello Kitty.

And then there was all that glitter on Teresa’s dress and face.  Really?  Good luck getting into prison to visit your husband coated in Swarovski dust.  The drug sniffing dog will be all over you before you even finish autographing your cookbook for the warden.

So shout out to the Mob Wives for looking pretty dope, no drug pun intended.

Granted, Karen’s boobs almost needed their own space on the couch…but overall, nicely done.

The only thing that really stuck out more than Karen’s cleavage was Joy Behar sitting between the two couches.

Yeah.  That Joy.  From The View.  Tell me that’s not an odd match-up.

Joy took time out from yelling at Bill O’Reilly and sampling healthy lunchbox snacks to host the Mob Wives Reunion.  Wha–?  I guess that since Wendy Williams was too busy hawking her new accessory line on QVC, somehow Joy’s name got pulled out of the Running out of Ideas Hat.

Side note:  ”HowYouDoin? Handbags” would have been a waaay better label motto, but I was apparently not at home when Wendy called to ask for my opinion.

And that “WW” emblem that they keep ooohing and ahhhing over during every presentation?  That’s pretty much what Wonder Woman wears on her bazongas.  But I still love you, Wendy…even though it is borderline copyright infringement.

Joy got the show started by keeping a visual on all the security guys and then jumping right into it with Renee and opening up that whole can of Junior worms.

I love Reunion Shows because you always get pummeled from every direction with clips from the past season, like Reality TV Cliff Notes the night before your final exam.

As we watched scenes of Junior moving back in with Renee and AJ and then making false promises and not wanting to switch daytime watches and then acting even sketchier and finally disappearing again, a random sampling of the Wives’ reactions were captured in a little box at the bottom of the screen.

In my head I pretended I was a soldier overseas Skyping with the Wives.

It was also kind of like watching them report on tropical storms off the coast of Florida the way they do on The Weather Channel.  Either way, we got to see a lot of uncomfortable seat shifting and lip chewing down in the left corner as Junior’s cheating and wire-wearing past was relived.

By the time they returned to Renee and she admitted to having a miscarriage due to the stress, Joy’s glasses fogged up and you could slit the tension wide open with a rusty box cutter.  And that was probably three minutes into the show now.

Jennifer Graziano, Renee’s sister, was also plopped on the couch.  She is the show’s executive producer and defended her decision to keep the cameras rolling while Renee had her infamous kitchen meltdown. If you can even get past the fact that mental deterioration is TV Gold (…Hello?  Calling Taylor Armstrong…) Jennifer claimed to have asked Renee if she wanted to shut down filming.

The story goes that everyone was on board with letting the cameras roll, including Renee, but personally I don’t always place that much value in the opinion of anyone going NutWad crazy pants on my kitchen floor.  But again, nobody asked me.

It was right about this point when I spit out my drink.  Renee casually mentioned that Junior had been denied acceptance into the Witness Protection Program and would have to fend for himself when he got sprung, and all I could think about was all the smack I have written over the last season and how fast I could delete this website and go back to working retail.

Have you ever tried getting someone to change your locks on a Sunday night?  Not easy.

To lighten the mood and keep me from having a paranoidal seizure, Joy gave a quick lesson in Staten Island linguistics with another montage full of Up In Yo’ Face, Get Over It, Squash it, Go To War With Me, Come Out Yo’ Face and other SI gems.  The only plausible reason for everyone talking the same and swearing the same in every Borough appeared to be some kind of scum in the water floating upstream, which I don’t believe only because they all ingest enough booze to kill any parasite out there.  But it was fun to watch everyone recite the same catch phrases with different Italian hand jives.

But not as much fun as watching my girl Big Ang.

Trust me, if I hadn’t been so afraid that Junior would see me through the open window I would have jumped up to record the Big Ang montage, if only to capture that delightful Herman Munster laugh.  Anyone know a good DJ who can loop that thing into a dance mix?  I could easily go another 30 minutes on the treadmill listening to that wheeze, fo’ sho.

We got a rundown on her plastic surgery bucket list, as well as her love for the Wise Guys and her justification for having such enormous bazookas.

Big Ang claimed that she’s tall, and therefore requires a slightly enhanced proportional balancing to offset her….whatever…it got almost scientific.  And like the elusive Holy Grail, we finally discovered her actual bra size!

Thanks to some poor traumatized Victoria’s Secret part-timer who happened to be wearing a tape measure around her neck on that fateful day when Big Ang went to the mall, all of America can now sleep a little easier knowing that somewhere in Staten Island there’s a 36J serving drinks at the Drunken Monkey.

Rewind, please.  Did she just say 36J?  Now I’m not really a boob man, but isn’t “J” what they cover outdoor grills with in the winter?

Yow.  Za.

I do love me some Big Ang.  I think I may love her even more now that I know I could wear her bra for a beanie during inclement weather.

Then it was time to start percolating the coffee.

Joy tossed the ball to Ramona “Lucifina” Rizzo with a flashback to her protective relationship with Karen, followed up with at least 45 minutes of Ramona talking s*** about Drita.

Ummm.  You do know she’s sitting right over there on the other couch, right?

As Drita winced and began to unconsciously inflate the vein on her forehead that always signifies rocket lift-off, Ramona and Karen retold the story about Ramona’s Grandfather and the whole Al Pacino/Donnie Brasco connection.

After reliving how she took Al Pacino into his trailer and roughed him up a little, Ramona vaguely veiled some less than complimentary zingers towards “somebody” and that she and that “somebody” should have a conversation off camera at some point.

“Off-camera” being code for “behind the dumpster that you live in, bitch.”

Uh oh, Spaghetti-Os.

Joy pushed up her Sally Jesse Raphael glasses and nervously moved on to Renee and Carla’s relationship, pretending not to see the steam building up under Drita’s cushion.

It was the same she said/I heard you said thing that has gone on all season.  Ever since Renee momentarily flat lined on the post-op cot after her full body reconstruction, there have been a lot of questions as to why Carla never came to visit.  Somehow those questions also morphed into inquiring minds wanting to know why Carla claimed that Renee knew all along about Junior’s wire tapping.

Check it out.  Turned out that the whole thing was a little bit overblown since Carla never said that and Karen never said that she said that and Renee never said that Karen said that Carla said that and Carla’s done with all that.

No lie.  That’s how it went down.

You follow all of that?

At some point during all of that I must have blinked, because suddenly Karen and Ramona were ganging up on Carla.  For someone who pretty much sat out a lot of the season on the sidelines, Carla wasn’t going to take any crap from anybody.

The argument escalated into Ramona shouting that she ain’t afraid of Carla, and Karen shouting that Carla needed to respect her family, followed by Carla threatening them both if they EVER bring up her family on television.

Holy Manzo, Batman!

Does every Italian argument always circle back to respect of La Famiglia?  I honestly expected Caroline and Dina to bust down the studio door in a New Jersey fit of rage, waving pepperoni sticks and bottles of blk water.

(It’s a Real Housewives of New Jersey reference.  Google it or watch it.  I can’t do all your homework for you.)

Then there was a whole lot of “you’re a liar/no YOU are!” until Karen unleashed on Carla, claiming that she (bleeped) one of the Gravano uncles.

After a quick Cher hair flip, Carla swung back with a claim that Karen had slept with married men.  Karen politely requested names while Carla and Ramona recited “you’re a fool/no YOU’RE a fool!” about 37 times each.

It was around this time that Joy just gave up and tossed all the raw meat on the rug and let the wildlife have at it.

With a deep breath, she asked Renee about her Celebration of Life Party.  The one where she was supposed to celebrate surviving her torso rebuilding with some dinner and dancing, and instead everyone ended up pulling Drita off Karen’s face…and Ramona’s boob out of her dress.

That party.  The one with all the plate throwing.

Cut my girl some slack.  Big Ang thought it would be a good idea that night if Karen talked to Drita.  She meant well, right?

And word on the street was that Drita had said she was ready to talk, even though we never seem to find out where these streets are every week.  I need to find these streets and set up camp, because there sure seems to be a lot of gossip at that address and it is my duty to eavesdrop and report back to my loyal readers.

Jennifer even had to come back out from behind the cameras to settle a few arguments, since it appeared she was the one who had spoken to Drita and/or Karen at some point over last summer.

As the tension built, I was momentarily distracted by Jennifer’s Popeye mouth.  Earlier on I hadn’t noticed that she talks slightly sideways, which is pretty endearing for a Mob princess and cartoon sailor.  But it took my attention away for just a second, and when I regained my focus Ramona and Drita were screaming and pointing and (bleepin’) their brains out.

Next thing you knew they both stood up to Unleash the Beast and Light the Fire, which caused everyone else to jump up and go into their defensive tackle positions. Renee started in with that patented “NoNoNoNo” thing she does under pressure, one camera man had nervous pee on live wires and then it was over until next week.

It was enough to make me come outta my face, I tell you.

 

 

I swear these crazy bitches are making my eyeballs pop out.

 

 

 

I think Ramona told my hairdresser’s cousin’s Mom’s housekeeper in Brooklyn.

 

 

 

 

I wanna go back to iHop. They have free refills and stuff.

 

 

 

Look at me! I’m Drita. Yo Yo. I’ll bust yooz up. BaBoom!

 

 

 

 

 

…and Lord, give me the strength to not pop off on that bitch.

 

 

 

So.  How about those Mob Wives, huh?

Love.  Them.

Yeah…you can (bleepin’) say what you want about them, but I think they’re good for the economy and we could use all the help we can get right now.

They may be an English Grammar teacher’s worst nightmare and (barely) a notch or two under Britney Spears on the Role Model chart, but they’re keeping Staten Island Emergency Rooms in business and that has to be good for the economy.

Sephora is probably also seeing a spike in the sale of dark jewel tone eyeshadows and those little round mineral dusting powder containers that make your face all sparkly.

Malls are always good for the economy.  Even when they’re in the Boroughs, right?

But if there is one solid winner in all of this mess, it has to be the Staten Island Chamber of Commerce and the Restaurant Business.

Seriously.

Do these women ever eat a meal at home?

Last week, if I hadn’t witnessed Renee actually taking a big sloppy pan of pasta and placing it on the kitchen island, I would swear they didn’t even own working ovens.

These women like to eat out a lot.  And slap each other around.

Usually at the same time.

This week was all about mending fences, spreading gossip and scarfing down appetizers as the Wives tried to figure out who was on whose side and who said what to who…or whom…or whichever the (bleep) is the proper grammatical phrasing.

Now that Carla and Karen had kinda sorta set up a fragile, temporary restaurant truce regarding their personal opinions on Ramona and Drita, it was time to see if it would hold up at least through the next couple of meals.  Luckily the two managed to eat at opposing eateries all this week.

So far so good.

Drita’s big concern right now is actually finalizing her divorce from Lee.

After waiting years for him to come home from prison, it was Drita’s hope that Lee would return with both a new attitude and the envelope of soft porn fashion photos that she had mailed him earlier last season.

Instead she discovered that he had cheated on her and…well…that went down exactly as you would imagine it would go down.  Nobody disses Drita.

Mr. T and Mrs. Dri both say “I pity the fool.”

Staying as far away from Drita as possible, Karen and her trusty sidekick Ramona are snacking across town and going over all the deets on Karen’s dinner date with Carla, which almost resulted in a Teresa Giudice Real Housewives of New Jersey table flip moment.

But this is Staten Island, and I guess they don’t flip tables unless it’s to use as a shield for gun fire.

Ramona, previously best known for her religious use of Crest White Strips and having her boob pop out a lot during roof top throw downs, is now rapidly becoming best known for having a mysterious, impossible to Google boy friend who was pulled over by 7 DEA officers.

Seriously…have you seen how many people are trying to find out who this guy is…?  He’s like the Staten Island Justin Bieber in cuffs.

Ramona is a pit bull when it comes to protecting her BFF fake cousin Karen.  You gotta admire the loyalty, even if it scares you.  She is certain that Carla is being manipulated and mind molded by Drita to the point where she doesn’t even know what is true anymore.

I think that is like Mr. Spock used to do…or am I thinking of the Vulcan Mind Meld?

Either way, I wouldn’t want Spock or Drita’s hands on my face, so it probably doesn’t really matter.  Just don’t touch me.  Or hurt me.  Please.

Ramona’s major pet peeve is that she heard that Carla or Drita or Carla and Drita have been saying that Ramona is Carla’s Archenemy.

Holy Ramona Rap Sheet, Batman!  You don’t have to read comic books to know that an Archenemy is bad news.

Ramona claims to have heard this all over da place.  In two Boroughs.

Now, I’m not sure how she heard this stuff, or what she really meant by all over da place.

It wasn’t clear if she was given this news by nosey neighbors hanging out the windows drying laundry in Little Italy, her technician at the ZOOM teeth whitening place or at various Visitor Centers and Tourist Info Booths in Staten Island and Brooklyn…but she got it in da Boroughs.

She got it in two of ‘em.  And she kept sayin’ it.

All I know is that when I’ve been in Times Square and stopped by any booth, all I got was directions to Les Miz and a coupon for Sbarro pepperoni double cheese.

But no gossip.

They must do things differently in Staten Island.

Over at yet another fine eating establishment, Carla and Drita are also going over the deets on the Karen dinner date truce.

Carla let Drita know that she had forgiven Karen but that she was still Team Drita all the way.  The only things that really came out of their sit down were some fancy coffee concoctions and the realization that neither of them remembered enough Geometry to help their kids with homework.  That’s what the internet is for, ladies.

In still another snack shack, Karen and her daughter Karina knoshed on a little sumthin sumthin as Karen broke the news that she was shipping her daughter back to Arizona, where Karina would be safe from both the humidity and the Mafia.

You could tell that way deep down Karen is just another Mom worrying about her daughter, and there was even a brief moment of normalcy before Karen gave a big soap opera cry and I remembered this was VH1.  She loves her daughter and that’s a good thing no matter what, so Karen gets the point in this match.

As part of Restaurant Week, Renee and Carla slipped into another eatery to gossip and slurp a cocktail.

Carla again went over the deets on her dinner with Karen.  (Why don’t these Wives just set up a mass email blast and be done with this story?  It’s gotta be wearing them out.)

Possibly as a side effect from her full body makeover, Renee has developed a major case of bug eyes when she hears something good.

Like cartoon bug eyes.  And I love it.

They almost pop out like Will E Coyote when the anvil falls on his head.  Beep Beep.  Road Runner…the coyote’s after you.

I think I finally found someone who likes gossip more than I do.

Before Renee can even digest her massive fork fulls of salad she is off to the next restaurant to meet up with Karen and Ramona to stir the the drinks, and the pot, even more.

Not only is Renee in the middle of all the drama, but she has to keep the stories straight and remember who said what to who and whom and blah to the blah.  In between bites of their tasty lunch we learned that Karen wanted to stick her foot in somebody’s neck until she couldn’t breath.

I guess that warm and fuzzy Arizona Mom Moment didn’t last very long.

For a second or two I started to lose track of who hated who as Ramona went off on Drita and how Drita had just married into the Mob and therefore wasn’t really an official card carrying member of the Lifestyle.  She made it sound like you got a badge and 3D decoder ring if you joined, and for a brief minute I wanted to go all Italiano just to get some cool stuff.

Karen was slightly miffed that Renee sounded like she was defending Carla.  Ramona said Drita was a Crumb Catcher.  Except she said it all like “Crumb Catchaaah” and then claimed that all the Visitor Centers in two Boroughs were also talking smack about Karen’s fight with Drita.

I know, right?  When do these Visitors Centers actually have time to just hand out maps?

Renee pushed her eyes back in her head and went to bed knowing that finally there was someone out there who made her seem like the normal one.

While all the Staten Island busboys were clearing tables, Drita had a few moments at home to toss all of Lee’s clothes into Hefty Cinch Sak bags and drag them to the curb.  She wanted all his (bleepin’) crap outta the house, asap.

Finally we would get to see what was behind that secret Do Not Enter Lee ClubHouse door when Drita busted in to fill another bag or two.

I was on the edge of my seat.

Wah.  Wah.  Waaaah.  Talk about a letdown.

After weeks of hoping to find bodies, Zoot Suits and wads of Mob cash, it was just a bed and three baseballs inside those plexi display cubes from The Container Store.

Seriously?  What a rip.

Filling all those garbage bags must have made Drita hungry, because they were all right back out at another restaurant before the Sanitation Truck even pulled down the street.

By the time Renee, Carla and Drita got served I needed a spreadsheet to keep track of what was going down.

Deep breath…Drita didn’t wanna make up with Karen…Renee felt like she was in the middle all the time, and felt disloyal to everyone…Carla hated Ramona…Ramona wasn’t even there, but supposedly said that Drita said that one of them told Renee’s sister-in-law that Junior only married Renee because her father was in the Mob and that Junior is nothing without Renee which is a lie…Renee said that Karen and Ramona had nothing nice to say about Drita…and Carla was wearing feather earrings like Cher used to wear.

Literally, the whole scene gave me an ice cream headache.

Luckily, next week is Spa Day at Renee’s.

Karen is getting all the Wives together for manis and pedis and facials.  There will be loofahs and lotions and hopefully a few T-bone steaks in the freezer to slap on any black eyes or concussions, because you know something big is gonna go down when this gang gets sealed up in one room.

And…it’s the Return of Big Ang!

Now that is gonna be some (bleepin’) good (bleep!)