Archive for the ‘Reality Television’ Category

Mob Wives: When It Comes To Staten Island’s Big Ang…Bigger Is Definitely Better. This Summer’s Big Spin-Off Is Almost Here, And Even The Preview Video Is Super-Sized. She’s Baaack!

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

Is it hot in here, or is it just Big Ang?

I’m actually sweating in excited anticipation.

Well…not really.  But I’m sure I would be if the Botox hadn’t cut off the flow.

So that can only mean one thing.  It’s almost National Big Ang Day.

Ready or not, VH1 is about to unleash everyone’s favorite Mob Wives scene stealer on us, and all the Drunken Monkeys couldn’t be more excited.

It’s a recipe that pretty much guarantees the tastiest Reality TV cocktail to pass over your inflated lips in years.  And it goes a little sumthin like this…

Take some Wiseguy wisdom and loads of Snookie-worthy animal print.  Toss in a few horny cougar BFFs and add as much silicone as your spinal cord can physically support.

Mix in a legally binding No Drama Allowed party provision and a laugh that could drown out a turbojet engine on take off during a thunderstorm.

Toss the whole hot mess into one of those industrial blenders they sell at Crate & Barrel, and then let a couple spray tanned bartenders serve it up after they get their pump on down at the gym.  (You gotta get Big before you Swig.  Duh.)

It’s the Big Ang Show, slapping us right in the face starting July 8.

She’s Big.

The show’s gonna be Big.

Even the Supertrailer is Big.

Now that you know the mix, pour yourself a Big Ang shooter and check it out…

Dance Moms: The ALDC Rocket Ship Blasts Off To Starpower, Which Is Apparently The Biggest Big Dance Competition In The Known Universe. And Maddie Has A Secret? Suck It Up.

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012



What the…? How does this tall kid keep sneaking back in here? I just changed the locks.





No. Really.  It’s Big. Really, really Big. Breathtakingly Big. So Big you’re physically in awe of it’s Bigness.





That’s what she said. This Big.







It’s Big like Cracker Barrel All You Can Eat Buffet Big. Raise your hands if you wanna go for dinner.





You win, or I snap both your arms off like this and you’ll never be able to hold your second place trophy again.




For those of you who missed it…Starpower Talent Competition is big.

Really big.

Or at least according to Abby Lee Miller it is.  And I’m thinking that Girlfriend probably knows a thing or two about All Things Big.  She may even qualify as an authority on the subject.

A big authority, if you’ll pardon the precisely placed pun.

This week on Dance Moms, the gang was headed to Woodbridge, New Jersey to try and scoff up all the Starpower trophies in a big way.  Other than the Woodbridge Center Mall I don’t really have any idea what’s out there, but whatever it is…if it’s anything like Jersey Hair…I’m sure it’s big.

Before you delete me from your favorite blog sites (…and if you haven’t added me yet, I’m more than happy to pause while you go do it now…) you’ll be happy to know that I think I’m done using the word big.

I just wanted to make certain that you experienced the same repetitive annoyance that the rest of us experienced as Abby pointed out over and over how freakin’ huge Starpower really was in the magical Land of Dance.  We get it.

But nobody was goin’ nowhere until the Pyramid of Shame photos were all peeled off like scabby band-aids.  I hear that the faster you rip them off, the less it is supposed to hurt.

At the bottom of the Why Don’t We Just Call This The Maddie Show And Be Done With It Pyramid were Brooke and Paige.

Brooke was there, again, because Abby still hated her Mom Kelly and was holding the longest grudge ever  in the history of grudge holding because Kelly flipped her the Bird two weeks ago.

Seriously?  Still?

I live in a big city and sit in a hot, crowded subway car everyday.  If I held a grudge against all the people who flip me off on a daily basis I would never get anything done, and would probably end up being one of those grumpy old coots sitting on a bench outside of Target yelling at kids on skateboards because they can see underwear sticking out of their baggy a** hip hop pants.

At first I thought Paige was on the bottom because Abby didn’t like her new grown up hairdo, which I still swear makes her look less like a little girl and more like that perky college dorm RA we all had who seemed so peppy and smiley until you realized that she cried herself to sleep every night because boys don’t like girls who pound on their door every time they smell weed.

Then I remembered that Kelly was her Mom too, and it all made more sense than the initial hairdo scenario actually did.

Miss Sassy Thang 2012 Nia was also on the bottom, which made both me and Mom Holly a little cranky.  Nia did great last time, but she needed to pay attention to her technique.  Sometimes her inner Beyoncé comes out, and it’s hard to remember to point your toes when you know they’re not ready for your jelly.

Chloe and Maddie were in the middle row.  They both did really well in the last competition, but got knocked down to the second level because House Rules state that the Overall High Score dancer always gets top ranking.

So make room for Mackenzie, bitches!

MackAttack scored the coveted Petite Miss Energy Dance title last week, which is a pretty big deal.

I mean, it’s no Miss Sugarplum Storybook Glitz Super Uber Supreme, but it’s a title.  And unless you can convince Mom Melissa to uproot the whole family and move down South before her not so secret wedding, it’s the best you’re gonna get.  So blow a few finger kisses and stick it in the trophy case, honey.

Mack was so happy that her hair got some mad crazy balloon static and I’m pretty sure another tooth came in.  You done so good you can be in the group dance!

Chloe snagged a solo this week, with a What Goes Around Comes Around theme.  It was a poorly veiled subliminal slam against Mom Christi for everything that she ever thought or said or did to Abby.

Maddie’s solo was a Wizard of Oz-ish Looking For A Place Like Home dance.  It was an homage to Dorothy, even though Abby pronounced it more like hommmidge, which I believe is either imported cheese or that new kind of yogurt that keeps you regular.

Since Brooke was already clinging to the bottom of the wall collage and had nothing to lose, she bailed and went home to talk about boys and get ready for her 8th grade Farewell Dance.  She would miss out on all the Bigness that is Starpower, but she didn’t care because she was getting a new dress and probably an awkward make out session.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I do judge all 8th graders by my emotionally scarred cafetorium dance memories.  Is there a problem?  Can we just move on, please?

The group number was based on the recent theatrical release The Hunger Games, where children killed each other to survive.  Replace pointe shoes with bow and arrows, and there you go.

Even though there were still enough dancers to legally call it a group number, Abby felt the need to poke Kelly in the eye just a little more and decided to bring in another dancer to replace Brooke.

Next thing you know, who comes ducking in under the door frame? It’s Payton!

All 8 feet of her.

You remember Payton.  The genetically engineered offspring of crazy Walmart shopping Mom Leslie.  I say genetically engineered because it sounds cooler and more PC than saying ginormously tall, but now I’ve gone and said that too, so you pick your favorite description of that Amazon.

The last time we saw Payton she had proudly exclaimed that she thought she was better than all the other dancers, which caused a whole lot of screaming and crying and banishment to the other rehearsal studio.

Abby pegged her as The Huntress for the number.  Last time she danced she was The Bully sticking “Kick Me” signs on the other girls.  This time she was packing heat.

Word on the dance street was that Payton had taken the Bully title to heart and was shoving kids to the ground and generally getting all gangstah thug on any little dancer who was unlucky enough to find themselves alone with her in the parking lot.

When Mom Leslie showed up after a quick trip to Walmart to return some capris that didn’t fit right in the crotch, she flipped out on all the other Moms for talking trash about her daughter.

There needs to be a show with nothing but Leslie flipping out.  Immediately.

When we first met her, I couldn’t place the voice.  But now that she’s been around for awhile I recognize it.

Leslie is totally that bat s*** crazy lady at the Walmart Customer Service desk having a nuclear meltdown when the sales associate won’t price match her blender because it’s not the identical item.  No matter how many times you show her the flyer, all she does is scream and yell and demand to speak to the manager, who you know is hiding behind the photo studio barnyard backdrop in complete terror with a wet spot in his pants.

That bitch is loud and proud.  When God made her, He had to remove her compassion and social skills in order to make room for all that extra Spaz.

When Payton took a face plant on a jump to the floor in rehearsals and basically broke her finger, Leslie told her to Suck It Up.  Geezis…you’ve got 9 others that still work, don’t you?

Suck It Up is pretty much Leslie’s go-to response when anyone is faced with a challenge in life.

If you’re finger doesn’t heal correctly because you took your splint off for the competition, it’s not like you had big plans to be a hand model anyway.  Suck It Up.

When the Moms all got into a bullying session about the actual definition of bullying, it was up to Holly to smack Leslie with her PhD and dumb it down for her in terms she could understand.

Christi wanted to just slap her and show her what real bullying was all about, but she stayed cool because the Lifetime lawyers were behind the cameras.  Lawyers and snipers probably show up every time Leslie blows into town.

I don’t know that for a fact, and could potentially have just made it up, but I would bet good money that it’s probably gospel.

Since Starpower was so…not little…the competition was actually broken down into two different venues.  A few quick calculations and some basic math skills later, Abby realized that she could enter Maddie in both locations and have a chance at scoring TWO solo trophies.  And why should clothing manufacturers be the only people to break child labor laws and work a kid to the bone, right?

After sneaking Melissa and Maddie into an early morning rehearsal, which by my own calculations kinda seemed to cut into what should have been homeroom attendance time, they were all set to work both Starpower auditoriums.  After a blood oath of secrecy, that is.

A few Suck It Ups later, it was finally Competition Day!

Payton still had a throbbing finger, which could potentially effect her weightlifting overhead presses when she picked up all the other girls during the performance.

Again…Suck It Up.  Even Abby compared Payton’s weenie little finger issue to the poor mountain climber who fell in a crevice and chewed his own arm off.  I’m thinking Abby didn’t actually see that movie.

Suck It Up.  And then Spit It Out if you have to, you big crybaby.

The group number had a few goobers.  MackAttack had trouble climbing all the way up on top of Payton’s big back, which was probably due to the fact that Payton was all covered in nervous flop sweat after missing half her turns.

Someone also needs to explain to me how last week Abby managed to find a retail establishment that sold 3 foot tall spoons made out of solid lead for the group dance, but this week couldn’t manage to track down one sporting goods store that carried an archery set?

As a result, it was up to Payton to Suck It Up and fling imaginary arrows at the girls until they collapsed one by one like roadkill onto the stage.

They only scored Second Place, which as we all know by now, is the First Loser.

Totally unrelated, Abby was in the audience with a big foam circle that I thought was one of those hemorrhoid donuts that you put under your butt, but then I saw some more on stage and realized they were Starpower branded frisbees or something.  Yes, I was disappointed.

Maddie’s solo was great.  In both locations.  The Oz number had her hooched up in a little two piece Dorothy number, which was cute since she’s still a  little kid.  A few years from now I can totally picture that outfit on some sorority bitch who’s slamming beers at a Halloween frat party with her BFF dressed as a naughty nurse.

Chloe did great, too.  But her choreography was…meh.

By the time that Maddie brought back TWO top solo trophies, one from each location, the episode ended just like the 17 episodes before it.  Except this one had the added bonus of Leslie’s big Walmart mouth which was flapping around so much that I can’t believe she didn’t get lipstick all over her teeth.

Moms were flipping out right and left, screaming favoritism and claiming that the other kids were always set up to fail with sub par choreography.

Kelly got (bleeped) out a few times, which made me smile because it seemed more like an episode of Dance Mob Wives.  (Which I would totally watch every week, by the way.)

Leslie accused Christi of just being a sore loser.  Christi rolled her eyes and made some of the best faces that she has made in two seasons.

Holly silently wondered if she could get her job back at the school on Monday and make this all go away.

Melissa did a lousy job of pretending she didn’t know anything about the second venue.

Payton’s twisted finger finally fell off.

And now you have to wait a whole week for another episode and my witty ramblings?

Suck It Up.

Mob Wives Chicago: They Grow ‘Em Big In The Windy City. Big Hair, Big Attitude, Big Earrings & Big Made Up Words Are Running Loose. Let’s Just Say That You Can’t Handle The Truce.

Monday, June 25th, 2012


Listen, you crazy Goombaladoink. When I say “dance with me” you better bring your macaroni milkshake to the yard. Canolioli?





Trust me, after 15 years of stripping I’m like a human postal scale. Plop it down and I’ll tell you how much it weighs.




Now I never judge, but that little Goombalahooter could use some hand sanitizer and a trip to the car wash.





I don’t need to change, honey. Crazy eyes and funny faces always worked just fine for Mr. Potato Head.





No. Seriously. How does that bitch’s head not hit the table wearing those things? They’re like freakin’ weapons.




Is there a Learning Annex class on Mob Wives: Chicago?

Does anyone know?

Just a one nighter or something that could break down exactly what it is some of these women are saying?  Maybe something that could dumb it down for those of us who will never get any closer to Chi-Town than the 5 Minute Lunch at Uno’s?

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love me them Mob Wives.  Obsessive love.  Almost to the point of a restraining order love.

But between the Candy Land-ish ramblings of Nora and those made-up words that probably sounded way better in her head, to my newly crowned TV girlfriend #2 Leah tossing out every other word in Deep Dish Italiano (…sorry, LD.  I’m still saving myself for Big Ang, but call me…) I feel like I might be missing some good stuff.

Realistically, I don’t have high hopes of ever completely understanding what the F*** Nora is trying to say, but it would be nice to not need my Flash Gordon decoder ring everytime Leah talks with her hands.

She’s my girl, but I still haven’t figured out what a Gob is and why I don’t want it Biffed…and that was over a week ago.


This week was all about Leah trying to keep her one shouldered outfits in place while working to keep the peace between all the Wives.  A little time had passed since the hair pulling throw down between Pia and Christina but nobody had yet managed to coordinate a group hug.

This looked like a job for Leah.

Because Leah doesn’t do drama.  No, thank you.

She also doesn’t do a subtly blended smokey eye or tastefully delicate earrings.

No, thank you.  Again.

But she does keep the peace in the ‘hood.  Or at least try.

Leah met up with Christina in the first of many restaurant tours this week.  Between Chicago and Staten Island, it’s pretty clear that no one will ever accuse the Mob Wives of not getting enough to eat.  Those girls know how to nosh when they gossip.

Leah wanted to get all the deets on what had gone down between Christina and Pia, and how it all related to crazy eyed Nora.  As Leah doodled the whole timeline on her napkin spreadsheet, it was definitely starting to look as though everyone had been getting along really well…that is, until Nora packed her bonker bags and moved back up from Florida.

Before the time even clicked over on my DVR, Leah had already called Pia another Learning Annex name and proudly proclaimed that she would wipe her a** with Nora.

Let’s not hold back now, Leah.

You can just tell that is totally her go-to catch phrase anytime anyone, or anything, rubs her the wrong way.

If the cable guy doesn’t show up during the promised window, somebody’s gonna be a butt wipe…and you know she’ll get free HBO installed while he’s down there.

Even the way she chomps food off her fork looks like she is F***ing somebody up.  I wonder how many utensils go back to the kitchen missing a prong.

Love.  Her.

Meanwhile, since higher elevations and thinner oxygen are no doubt some of Nora’s best friends, she and Pia were perched on a random Chicago roof top lounge discussing pretty much the same issues that Leah had just used to wipe her a**.

Beyond the bar fight, there was also the brewing tension between Pia and Renee.

Though they do not know each other very well, Renee had already made it clear early on that she did not approve of Pia’s decision to work at a strip club.  According to Renee, taking your clothes off for horny Chicago sports fans every time a game is rained out is just low class, even if it guarantees that your rent is mailed in on time and you can finally fix your kid’s overbite.  Stripping is bad…mmmKay?

Since Pia did not approve of another Mom telling her how to raise her kid or straddle a chair, she decided to drop by Renee’s place of business later in the day, bringing along her own daughter Bella as a human shield.

So Mom and Daughter headed to Eye Candy Optics, the Pearl Vision knock-off joint co-owned by Renee and her boyfriend Dave Giangrande, who I believe was named after that Starbucks drink that costs something ridiculous like $7 or more.

Dave, chewing his gum and barely looking up at Renee (…”I thought I told you to buy more lens cleaner, woman?”…) was text book Goomba if you want to look it up.  You know when he is out on the street he’s one of those big Joe Giudice gym guys who wear that stupid blinking Bluetooth earpiece even when they forget their phone at home.

Now, Pia.  I’m thinking that if you are trying to mend fences, you should probably not show up at someone’s place of business with your kid, your dog and your potty mouth and then unleash all three at the same time while customers are wandering around looking for those trendy geek glasses that Justin Bieber wears all the time.

I actually thought it was Nora sitting in Pia’s lap at first glance, because that little rat dog had the same googly eyes and flopping tongue that Nora has when she gets going.  But it was just a puppy.

As Pia dropped F bombs around the place like she was trying to drive Bin Laden out of the optician’s office, Renee grew increasingly more uncomfortable with Pia’s presence in the store.  Her annoyance level was maxxed out by the time Dave MochaLatteGrande came over and gave Pia a big Chicago Bears hug.

Say wha–?!

Dat’s rite.  They knew each other already, which pushed all of Renee’s Barbie buttons and she quickly put 2 and 2 together.

Remember those math problems from school?

If a train leaves Cleveland full of Dbag guys wearing wife beaters and carrying $400 in singles and heads to a Chicago strip club at 75 miles per hour, and a truck leaves Chicago going in the opposite direction carrying 8 bushels of oranges and is going 64 miles per hour…

The answer is:  Pia’s a ho bag.

This one isn’t going to end well, I can tell already.

Moving on, we had another snack with Renee and Christina.  This was their chance to rehash the Pearl Vision fiasco, get some insight into whether anyone else thought that Dave may have slipped some cash into Pia’s ATM slot and for Renee to finally meet Leah, who entered the diner like she was a long lost Carrington.  

Alexis would have been proud.  Except for the hot pink feather earrings, maybe.  But otherwise proud, dahling.

Leah didn’t join in and bash Pia for any of her life choices.  She supported her for doing what she had to do to keep the internet on, though she did manage to avoid the discussion on why Pia hasn’t been able to set up a account in 15 years.

Judge the book, not the cover.  You go, girl.

Between the three of them, they couldn’t come to a majority decision on whether Dave VenteVenteGrande had tapped into any of Pia’s resources, so to speak, though I did pick up another Learning Annex synonym for giving a zaddabazing to someone.

Bow chicka goombow wow.

Since that meal didn’t seem to fill her up enough, Renee next had a date night with her Starbucks boyfriend.  Looking something like a suburban Kim Zolciak, all blonde and spritzed and squeezed into yet another skinny black number, Renee waited for Dave to show up at the restaurant like a panther about to pounce on some poor little unsuspecting gopher.

As soon as Dave sat down, Renee was on him with one of those velcro paddles you use at the beach, whacking his tennis balls over and over until he ‘fessed up on how he knew Pia so well.

Seeings as how Renee’s voice tends to bring back memories of playing a song one octave too high on your wind-up toy piano, she never really comes across as a very intimidating screamer.  No matter how many times he denied any wrong doing Renee wasn’t buying it, so between the (bleeps) and the (bleeps) and the slow service at the restaurant, Dave basically flipped her off and hailed a cab.

Run while you still have legs, little gopher.  Run like the wind.

I’m not sure why Renee even has a kitchen, because next thing you knew she was headed to yet another restaurant.  This time it was for Nora’s makeshift memorial dinner in honor of her MIA father Frank “The German” Schweihs.

We only got two things out of this whole meal.  One was a Sky7 traffic report on the apparent expressway back up that was responsible for Renee being so disrespectfully late for the seance.  Second was learning that instead of returning clothes that she has borrowed, Nora tends to regift them to visiting out of town BFFs…and Renee wanted her sweater back, bitch.

The Chicago restaurant tour continued with Pia and Renee sitting down, albeit very briefly, to try and rehash the whole Pearl Vision thing again.  Between Renee’s angry Disney soundtrack voice and Pia’s absolute denial over ever having taken even one sip of Dave’s Starbucks blend, it didn’t go very well at all.

Pia questioned Renee’s “prekinoshens” about her, whatever that meant and then bolted out of the restaurant.  (Do you see now why I need that Learning Annex class?)

Finally Renee went home to digest some of this food, and left the booth open for Pia and Leah to chow down.

Leah really wanted everyone to get along, and really hoped that Pia and Christina could “rekindle their differences (?)”


Despite the fact that she’s a Noodle, Pia really likes Nora for some odd reason.  She explained that…well…Nora is Nora.  To which Leah responded “My Fat A**.”

She’s a keeper.  Girlfriend is definitely proud of that badonkadonk.  If she ain’t wiping it with somebody’s face, she’s pointing it out to passing waiters and anyone in the cheap seats.  Love.  Her.

Figuring that this drama would never end unless they got everyone together, Leah set up one more buffet date for the Wives to all sit down and marvel at her earrings.

…and try and work things out, I mean.

I know, right?

Did you see those things?  How in the–?  I mean…seriously…

Pardon me while I drop by the Public Library archives and see if I can locate a daVinci sketch that might give a better understanding as to how the human anatomy can actually support earrings of that stature.

At first I just thought they were Pier 1 Import window clingers without the suction cup part.  And then I got all excited when I thought they were Girl Scout Samoa cookies painted silver, because the combination of Leah and those tasty, over priced snacks in one room would be like a dream come true for me.

But they were just ginormous earrings.

With her hair slicked back in one direction and the earrings tugging her down in the other direction, Leah was pretty much tight enough to sneak back into her own Sweet Sixteen party.  It was like she had somehow accidentally walked into a Time Machine at the Mall on her way out of H&M.

You could barely see the wrinkles in her forehead as she tried to deal with Nora’s excuses for not wanting to dance with her back on that fateful Italian Fest Day.

Nora doesn’t dance with strangers.  And she doesn’t need to change, honey.

Everything after that was a blur.

I think everyone kinda sorta made up even after Pia and Christina growled at each other, but I was having a flashback to the last time anyone called anyone else “Honey” on Reality TV and all I could see was Teresa Giudice flipping a table.

You just don’t say that to someone.  That’s like Reality Rule #1.

Don’t call me Honey.

Ok…is GoombalaBitch better?

Oh snap.

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