Posts Tagged ‘reality tv’

Toddlers & Tiaras: The Beautiful Fairy Princess Pageant Ain’t Just For Girls Anymore. Traven Shows The Ladies How The Boys Get It Done. It’s Called Smooth Swagger…Any Questions?

Thursday, May 24th, 2012



Dat’s my baby. When he be on stage, them girls just ’bout spit out their Mountain Dew.





Yeah. I’m a pretty big deal. When my ‘do is tight and right, the bitches line up on the playground.







He so Krazy.






Hey, Girl. This all tastes like Tootsie Pops, Bazooka gum and velvety smooth Yoo-hoo. Hungry?





Oh. Hell. No. Bitch stole my look, my moves and my lady lines?





Girl, if you’re feeling a little light headed or dizzy, you ain’t just coming down from a Pixie Stick high.  No, ma’am.

You just got some Traven all up in your face.

Toddlers & Tiaras got a shot of sparkly testosterone this week when Missouri hosted The International Fresh Faces: Beautiful Fairy Princess Pageant.

In that special spray tanned land usually reserved for painted up little girls and disoriented preemies, it’s rare to see a dude take the stage.  But somebody was about to change all that and show everyone how you put the Playa back in Pageants, and the Swagger back in Supreme.

If you do a Google search for “way too into his job,” the first result that should pop up is Mr. Todd, the Pageant Director.  With his overly excited mannerisms, which were an odd cross between a late night news anchor and the guy who narrated all those grade school film strips on coffee exporting, Mr. Todd explained in detail how everyone dreams their entire lives of being a Princess.

And then he paused, which was either to get himself out of an awkward moment of self reflection, or simply because he forgot there was a boy coming to the hotel this week.

Then he added…”or Prince”…and everyone exhaled.

Right from the starting gun, it was clear that Mr. Todd lives for these weekend extravaganzas and could possibly be the first one to give all the vicariously living Pageant Moms a run for their money.  Things that make you go hmmm.

The first contestant we met up with was the aforementioned 6 year old Traven and his Girrrl head snappin’ Mom LaNesia.

Traven is a Ladies’ Man.  Mom knows it.  Nana Vert knows it.  Everyone at the barber shop knows it, even though he got busted for lying about having 1,000 girlfriends.  And Traven made darn sure that we knew it.

For a little wiener of a kid, Traven had already mastered the high school hallway strut as he worked it down to other end of the trailer into his toy filled bedroom.

I’m the Man of the House!  I’m the Grown Up! Ladies looooove me!  You Do What I Say!

That’s relatively cute when a 6 year old squirt runs around with his chest puffed up, but a few years from now he needs to knock it off before that trailer finds a restraining order taped to the front door.

I thought I told you to dust my crowns, woman!

A pageant kid since he was in diapers, Mom had started Traven out early because he looked like a little girl.  She was kind of vague on whether or not she dressed him up as that fake little girl, but she was such a freakin’ riot that I didn’t really notice the omission until it was too late.  I loved her right away.

LaNeshia, besides having a name that sounds like she could whoop yo’ a** on The Bad Girls Club, has one of those crazy In Living Color smiles that just makes you smile.

She was all MmmHmm You Go Work It Pop It That How You Win Them Girls from the first second she showed up on screen.  If I get blown off for my lunch date with last week’s Salt & Pepa sisters, I want to go to Longhorn with LaNeshia.

Aside from his ginormous love for the ladies, Traven’s other personality trait was his ability to snap from Angel to Demon in 0.2 seconds, according to LaNeshia’s stopwatch.

This was the first episode I can remember witnessing a Toddlers & Tiaras exorcism as Traven clutched his throat and collapsed to floor in an effort to purge the devil from his 6 year old soul.   Twitching like a fish that had just flopped out of the net onto the loading dock,  Traven begged for the devil to leave his body before he went airborne like Linda Blair and spun backwards into the display shelves full of pageant crowns.

Lawd have mercy.

Then everything went pink.  Except for the pig, which was black.

It was time to meet 4 year old Ava-Cate and Mom Emily.  Again with that Name Generating Machine.  This is the second time I have asked where I can buy one, and still no answer.  I’ll even settle for a rental.

Mom made it clear from the get go that as soon as she saw that first Polaroid sonogram, she started planning for her Pageant Baby.  Emily was a pretty normal Pageant Mom on the scale from Normal to Hooters Waitress I guess, but there was something about her eyes that made me think she could definitely blow a nutty or two if necessary.  There was just a little bit of that Stepford Wife hair pulled back over one ear with the other side all hair sprayed down nice and frizz-free with wide white eyes that just told me to stay on her good side.

Ava-Cate was a cutie and still on the young side of 4, so she rambled a lot and didn’t always seem to have control of her tongue.  But she’s going to grow up to be a looker, and anyone who names her pet pig Buddy Crazy Sunglasses is already my new BFF.  She’s the good kind of baby crazy.

Buddy CS just squealed and ran around a lot.  Not sure what else I expected a pig to do, but I was a little disappointed for some reason.

Our last visit was to a home full of bleached blonde hair and spray tans.  For miles.

The first two blondes were 7 year old Samantha and Mom Amy.  There were a bunch of other blondes that were either randomly stacked up in a human cheerleading pyramid (…shout out to my Cheer Moms!…) or just hanging out in the living room, but they were never really explained or introduced.  So I’m going to make up a story that they were cloning blonde pageant girls in the barn behind the house.  Run with it if you want.

Samantha is hardcore.  She’s in it to win it.  She’s always a winner and the prettiest girl in the whole entire world.  And she is looking forward to wiping the floor with Traven, and Mom would probably be more than happy to hold him down since she doesn’t feel that boys should be allowed in the competitions.  Something about not needing hot rollers.

Whatever.  Try shaving your face every day lady, and then we can talk beautification hardships.

Back at Klub Traven, everyone was getting down with their bad selves during pageant practice.  Traven loves to work that chest pop and Ne-Yo hip action, and it got Nana Vert all worked up to the point where she had to join in and shake what she gave her daughter, if you know what I mean.

Traven was so impressed that he recommended Nana go work at The Pony.  A strip joint.

A 6 year old knew the name of the town’s local strip joint.  How…wha…?

When I was 6, my school bus driver could have pulled into the parking lot and left us all sitting in our seats while he disappeared with dollar bills clenched between his teeth, and I would still have no clue what was happening.  How does this kid know The Pony?

I love me some LaNeshia, but she needs to take a different route to the barber shop from now on before Traven spends all his lunch money on lap dances.

It would be cheaper to just go to Ava-Cate’s and watch her do the booty spank.

Again.  How a 4 year old knows how to wave one hand over her head and slap her a** with the other is beyond me.  And this wasn’t a little Chuck E Cheese birthday spank next to that inflatable bouncy room with all those germ infested plastic balls.

This was full blown Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy.  And Ava kept doing it all through her practice session, much to Mom’s chagrin.  Hopefully she gets it out of her system before Pageant Day.

And high school.

Finally, it was Mr. Todd’s most favoritest bestest day evah.

Traven arrived at the hotel poppin’ and lockin’ his way into the lobby, checking out the ladies and giving them all a little taste of what’s to come.  All the other boys had dropped out of the competition as soon as word leaked out that the T-Man was bringing his Game, so Traven was guaranteed to win something since you know they had a box full of boy stuff in storage.

Ava-Cate showed up all raring to go, but then quickly needed some blue Pixie Sticks stat, before she fell asleep on her jacked up hair.

According to Mr. Todd’s borderline Dateline creeper explanations, there were three portions to this pageant.

Beauty.  Fairy.  Denim.

Traven’s planned shtick was to dance and unleash his dude scent all over the stage for each portion.  That probably made Amy tug at her roots a little, don’t you think?

Ava’s plan was to hopefully not ride a cowboy and make it through the day with a PG rating.

Samantha’s plan was to win and continue being beautiful.

Turned out that someone forgot to snap Ava-Cate’s dress together before she left the makeup room.  The skirt seemed to be staying up fine from my angle, but maybe once she started pretty feeting around she would run the risk of losing the ruffles.  I don’t know.  I’m not an authority on little girls’ clothing, which probably makes own Mom breath a sigh of relief.

So Ava was a little late to the stage.  It happens.

I figured out pretty early on that the only reason they needed three segments to the pageant was so Mr. Todd could change outfits three times.

Our boy was in full Diana Ross mode, changing clothes every other song.

Like a pig in mud.  A pink one this time.

The Fairy portion required everyone to dress up like fairies or princes or princesses.  Maybe it’s just me, but knowing that I was going to have to compete in anything called the Fairy portion probably scared off more boys than the press release that Traven was going to be in the hizzle.  Try explaining that one to your bunk mate at Summer Camp.

Traven’s cousin Princess, as opposed to princess Cousin if LaNeshia had come from royalty, was brought along as a prop for his Fairy number.

After bickering out in the hallway like George and Weezie Jefferson, they made it on stage and froze up.  Not even one of those stuffed animal pony heads on a stick between his legs could save Traven this time.

(Please tell me he didn’t get that thing at the strip club…)

Ava-Cate did a Boogie Fairy kind of thing, while Samantha’s production could have opened the Summer Olympics if Mom had remembered to use the correct CD.


The Denim portion was pretty much just a Sears Back-to-School fashion show in the Food Court.

Traven danced again, Ava ripped off her Minnie Mouse skirt, flung it around her head like she was roping a steer and Samantha just wandered around the stage in white denim.

Pretty boring, but on trend for the season, so she scored highest on that one.  Lucky for her it was before Labor Day.  I wonder if they’d deduct points for that?

(Side note:  PLEEZ tell me someone else saw the sleeping old man in one of those Mall t-shirts that are made to look like tuxedos?  Classic.  I’m starting to think that the producers are required to toss one of those Easter Eggs into each episode now, because over the last few episodes we have already had the pleasure of that crazy guy in the wheelchair and the thug in the doo rag.  It’s like a party game each week.  Way better than Where’s Waldo?)

Then some kids won some stuff again.

Unfortunately, because he spaced out a little and couldn’t keep the pony between his legs, Traven didn’t go home with the Top Dawg trophy.  But he still had swagger, and vowed that we had not seen the last of him.

And don’t you worry.  He still got mad love for da ladies.

Consider that an extra gift that you got to take home this weekend, bitches.

True dat.

Dance Moms Miami: No One Likes A Quitter, So Deal With Those Weighty Issues Or Hit The Road. Sammy Gets Abandoned, Hannah Gets A Burger And Victor Just Gets Fierce…Again.

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012



I am a well trained professional prima ballerina. Many men have referred to me as The Nutcracker.





Why does it always have to be Abby? Just once I’d like to be the pretty one. Work with me.





Those bitches. Why didn’t anyone tell me I had chocolate on my face?






It says you need to lose 10 lbs of baby fat and 200 lbs of enabling mother.







Back dat thang up.





I don’t know if it was my 2 hours at the gym tonight or Dance Moms: Miami that is making me feel so dehydrated.

Considering that I forgot my iPod and was having a difficult time lip reading Judge Judy on the monitor, I didn’t really work that hard on the treadmill.  So it’s probably a given that my light headedness stems from this week’s episode, where there was so much crying and talk about salty food that I really need to replenish my fluids before I get one of those debilitating dancer cramps.

The gang was heading to San Antonio this time around, and you know what they say.

Everything’s bigger in Texas.  The hair, the drama and the number on the bathroom scale.  All big.

Really big.

What they don’t say is that everything starts getting big before you even leave Miami to board the plane to Texas.

This week all the dancers were headed to Starbound for the 99th time this season.

I’m unsure if that is the only competition left in America that will allow anyone even remotely affiliated with Abby Lee Miller to get past security, or if they’re all just Starbound groupies who follow the judges from city to city like stoners following a trail of pot smoke from the Grateful Dead tour bus.

Either way, San Antonio…get ready for some Fierceness.

But before they could pack their cowboy spurs and all of Victor’s new spiked goth jewelry, everyone had to deal with The List.

Drumroll, please.

The biggest newsflash this week was that every Mom finally had a chair to sit in, which made Victor pause and do some quick mathematical calculations in his head.  Something wasn’t right.

Turned out that Sammy and her Mom “I’m the Pretty One” Abby were MIA, which explained the balanced seating arrangements.

Last week, after yet another throw down with the Moms, Abby and Sammy took off and hadn’t been heard from since.  Hopefully they were not lying dead in a ditch on the side of the highway, because neither Victor or Angel could be bothered to find out what happened.  Keep it moving, people.  Nothing to see here.

Going bottom up…which is a hysterically fitting metaphor for so many things in Miami…The List was unveiled.

The lowest spot on the Toe Shoe Totem Pole was held by the missing Sammy, prompting Angel to declare that he would not waste his saliva on any explanation.

Plus he needed that mouth juice for his snacks later.  Dude could use a sit up or two.

Don’t be hating…I’m just saying.

Fourth slot was Hannah.  She still needed to work on her technique and caloric intake.  Each week her weight has increasingly become the elephant in the room, no hurt or pun intended.

Hannah has an amazing head on her shoulders, and wants people to see her for a dancer, not as a kid with a Mom who overfeeds her every night.  She knows what she needs to do, and is working on it for crying out loud, but Mom has some kind of lettuce phobia or something that won’t allow her to approach a salad bar without an inhaler.

So Hannah pays the price each week, whether it be concerned looks from the other Moms or the costumes they make her wear with those floppy swatches of fabric draped across her belly.

Worst.  Camouflage.  Job.  Ever.

Third spot is for topless Lucas.  He nailed his performances last time, but snitched on Sammy for dropping Kimmy on her head and as anyone who watches Mob Wives knows…nobody likes a rat.

Kimmy almost made it to the top, but got stuck at second because she was late on her penché, whatever that is.  I don’t have time to Google it, but whatever a penché is…it shouldn’t be done late.  She also got props for taking the heat for Sammy’s goof, even though getting dropped on the noggin wasn’t her fault.

Jessi made it back up on top after plummeting to the bottom for weeks.  Her solo last week was great, and she made it another 7 days without killing her mother while she slept.  Kudos.

Sammy and Abby decide to roll back into the studio as Victor began the assignments for the week, which wound him up a little tighter.

Jessi and Kimmy were given a duet.

If you didn’t know either of them you would immediately visualize some chick fight dance where the mean girl shoves the nerd girl inside her locker between classes. But since we’ve had 6 weeks to get acquainted it wasn’t going to be so terrifying to see Jessi flip Kimmy up over her head with one arm.

They like each other, even though their Moms are in the other room chewing through each other’s necks.

Lucas got a solo.  Duh.  I wonder if it will involve lifting his right leg straight up in the air?

Hannah got a solo as well, which was her golden opportunity to show all them skinny bitches how the big girls get it done.  In yo’ face.  Love her.

The group number was all about Abandonment Issues, designed as Victor’s way to force feed some teamwork down everyone’s throats.

And speaking of force feeding…uh oh.

As Hannah worked on her solo, the whole weight thing finally bubbled to the surface like microwaved cheese dip.

Now you don’t have to read medical journals at the dentist office to have heard a little something about childhood obesity and unhealthy eating habits.  Just swing by any Food Court on your way to Macy’s.

Unless Hannah is buying the household groceries with her allowance and birthday money, I’m pretty sure Mom Debi is stocking the refrigerator, and what she is not eating herself…she is feeding to her daughter.

Debi got overly defensive about the weight issue and didn’t appear to really see how enabling she may have become at meal time.  But luckily Mayra and her every changing hairdo was there to grind the point into Debi’s face like a seasoned pork rub.

Mayra called out Debi for allowing Hannah to eat a hamburger at the airport, when somewhere in the terminal there had to have been a Subway sandwich shop.  Then it got ugly as Debi stormed out, vowing that Mayra would never again put her kid on the scale and that by the way…it was only half a hamburger, so go back to your front desk and f*** off.

Abandonment was key this week, as Angel and Victor kept disappearing at random inopportune times.

Mayra checked in on the duet while Angel focused on the never seen Senior Dancers, which made the Moms a little itchy.  There were also a few scenes with the kids just standing around waiting for some direction, which made the Moms incredibly itchy.

While Victor showed off his new black & white Sephora manicure to the kids, the Moms decided that they would all try to get along for the sake of their kids and their own sanity.

The Moms.  Getting along.

I know, right?

As they all bonded with that hand stack thing the Fantastic Four always does before they head off into the Negative Zone, their giddy Mom cheer got Victor so traumatized that he had to call off the group rehearsal, flamboyantly grab all his accessories and go bat s*** DivaPalooza out the front door.

PS.  That was not a ManPurse he had seductively draped over his wrist as he exited stage right.  Sorry.  That was 100% Lady Bag.

Victoria, honey.  C’mon.

Then it got cray cray.

In came Mayra, with no wig or weave, to teach the ballet class because both Victor and Angel were MIA.  A lot of that going around lately.

The Moms went from itchy to full blown rash as they watched Mayra in her elastic pants and real hair lead the kids through their barre work.  Word on the street is that Mayra used to be a professional dancer, so I guess it’s like riding a bike, but the Moms weren’t having it this close to competition.  Everyone kept looking around for Ashton Kutcher to poke his head in the doorway and scream “You just got Punk’d, bitches!” but no such luck.  This was really happening.

By the time Angel came in and made the announcement that he was staying home to work with those attention grabbing Seniors instead of joining everyone in San Antonio, the background drumroll and the Moms’ attitudes were both overly dramatic.

How could he abandon them at this late hour?  How could they go to Texas without him?  How does he fit in that Gap Kids polo shirt?  And how does he dance in flip flops?

Gah.  So many unanswered questions.

And then it got bigger, because it was Texas time!

I say it almost every week.  You gotta love Victor’s entrances into the venues.  Since they haven’t mastered the Abby Lee Miller group takeover walk, Victor just zones out and does his own mini runway, leaving all the kids behind.

They could all literally be hit by the airport shuttle bus and he wouldn’t know until the MC announces the Stars Dance Team and nobody goes on stage, because the dude is so focused on that strut.

This week’s runway included a hot pink top, purple pants, some whacked out jewelry and that shiny new manicure.  Victor has also turned the simple task of removing sunglasses from your face into an art form.  Walking down the narrow hallway you know he was totally dying to press himself up against the cinder block walls like that new Jennifer Lopez music video, but they were behind schedule.

Next time, maybe.

The dances all went really well.  Hannah nailed her big girl dance, and showed everyone that she ain’t backing it up, or backing it down.  She’s a force.

Debi, on the other hand, needs to just stop talking.  In a classic Toddlers & Tiaras Pageant Mom Moment, Debi guaranteed Hannah a few years of adult therapy by being completely dumbstruck that her own daughter didn’t fail.  Mom was surprised when her kid wasn’t 4th.  She was 2nd.  And Mom expected 4th.  Or worse.

Debi better clear the DVR before she serves up another bucket of wings or Hannah is going to be devastated when she watches this episode.  Nice, Mom.  Nice.

Lucas somehow managed to dance both numbers with a shirt on, proving that…yes…he can still lift his right leg up 42 times without being stripped down like internet kiddie porn.  Hopefully we’ve seen the last of naked Lucas.

Jessi doinked her back right as the duet was heading to the stage, but she still managed to pick up Kimmy like Idaho potatoes and spin her all over the stage without dropping her, which is a good thing.  I don’t think Kimmy’s summa cum laude GPA could withstand too many more blows to the skull.

One quick pointer for any tech engineers who happened to find this site by mistake.

Starbound has one of the worst sound systems I’ve ever heard.  Seriously.  If the kids didn’t stand up, I would never have known who won what prize.  What was she saying?

My grade school Peter and The Wolf play was easier to hear, and that was in the cafetorium with a tripod mic on fish stick day.

Fix that.  Now.

Team Stars owned San Antonio, as Victor pointed out.  They stole all the trophies out from everyone else and got their Fierce On.  The numbers were great, the kids all did great and Victor’s funky new jewelry was killer.

That calls for some celebration snacks.

We’re all going to Debi’s for burgers.  Wanna come?

Mob Wives Reunion Part One: Youz Do Not Want To Get All Up In My Face Or Trust Me, I’m Gonna Go To War All Over Yours. Youz Need To Get Over It Before I Squash It Staten Island Style.

Monday, May 21st, 2012



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.

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