I was this close to freakin’ dyin’ and no fruit basket? Seriously, Carla?
Oh yeah. Now it’s all comin’ back to me. Now I remember why I cheated.
I’m looking for love. Only Wise Guys wid money and smokes need apply.
Be glad you’re in jail. These bitches are krazy. Kra…zy.
I (bleepin’) love dis show.
Seriously. Each week when it’s over I can’t decide if I want to order a pizza or smack somebody around a little.
This late at night neither of the choices is probably a smart one…so don’t try this at home, kids. Just go to bed.
Mob Wives may not fall into the Role Model category, but who really (bleepin’) cares when we get a ginormous, juicy serving of Big Ang every week?
After Drita and Karen showed up at Renee’s Celebration of Life Party bearing fists instead of gifts last week, half the Eastern seaboard is still suffering a few after shocks and Big Ang thinks it’s time for a group hug.
I love me some Big Ang.
Decked out in her best Galleria leopard print, she barreled into her lunch date with Drita like she owned the joint. Given Big Ang’s unique taste for bad fashion and filthy rich men, there’s a good probability that she actually does own the place…but regardless, she walked in like she did and that was good enough for me and that one scared waiter who wet his pants and bolted out the back door.
Even with your eyes closed you can imagine what Big Ang looks like, thanks to her one of a kind voice. It’s as big as her personality, and just as overwhelming.
Let me see if I can break it down for you…
Her voice is a lyrical combination of that skinny kid in junior high who always coughed when he laughed, that woman from the Tanning Salon who has already booked her daily appointments for 2012, and that other kid in junior high who always forgot his inhaler in gym class.
Add to that any Toddlers & Tiaras Pageant Director who moonlights calling Bingo numbers at the Elks Lodge, and that middle aged waitress who worked at Ground Round since the days when you could smoke and throw peanut shells on the floor.
(“Shells…not butts. I’m not telling you again or you’re outta here. Who ordered the curly fries? Was that you, sweetie?”)
Put all those people in a dump truck delivering gravel under the Brooklyn Bridge…and there you have it. Big Ang.
Oh. And the dump truck just hit a cat while it’s coughing up a fur ball.
I love her laugh.
Anyway. Long story short: she wants everyone to get along.
While Big Ang is laughing so hard that only dogs can hear it, Ramona heads over to see Renee and apologize for the throw down at her party, and for mistakenly accusing the wrong guy for hitting her in the face in the midst of the chaos.
Renee is tired of the drama and wants the Wives to all just get along. Turns out that Ramona, who dropped in out of nowhere this season and is so far best known for her ridiculously white teeth and sucker punches, is like “family” to Renee and Karen and is quickly forgiven for yelling HeHitMeHeHitMe over and over again while poor Derek Tobacco ran for his life from the Goombah Guards.
Since her botched full body reconstruction, Renee has not spoken with Carla. As you will recall, Carla never checked in on Renee during the procedure and therefore never even knew that she had ripped a hole open in her backside that was bigger than the pit they roast pigs in during Little Italy Street Fairs.
Renee wants everyone to start acting like women, since…umm…that’s what they are, you just wouldn’t know it.
“We cross our legs.” Thanks for the visual.
Ramona thinks that Carla is Drita’s puppet. That immediately got me wondering where she puts her hand to make her talk, and after that I may have lost consciousness for a minute because all of the sudden I was watching Carla and Drita having drinks talking about the same issues. Carla was drinking what looked like gasoline out of a martini glass, garnished with a strawberry as red as Drita’s bloodshot eyeball.
Either put a patch on that thing or wear your shades, woman…people are trying to eat.
In an attempt to bring the peace to all the Wives, Renee decided to write a note to Carla instead of risk another brawl and burst her sutures again. She bragged about her literary skills after all the years of penning love letters to inmates or something, so why not give it a try.
Ok. ”A” for effort.
But she wrote it in one of those school notepads with the cover that you used to use for 5th grade book reports. Did you spend so much money on lipo that you really couldn’t afford some stationary? Even the cheap kind? You don’t need the fancy stuff with the matching pencil cup. C’mon. And where did you even find that thing? It’s not even Back To School season at the Staten Island Target.
Seriously. I love these crazies, but sometimes they just don’t think. Presentation is everything.
Not quite as disturbing as Renee’s penmanship was Big Ang reliving her night out with BFF Linda, who appears to also carry a frequent shopper card to Animal Prints “R” Us down at the strip mall.
While Big Ang whips up enough food to feed that whole family on Jerseylicious (“When you gonna marry Gigi for cryinoutloud?” ”Leave me alone, Ma.”) Linda tries to remember where they went and who bought them all those drinks.
Turns out that Big Ang loves her Wise Guys. The cute ones. With the wallets.
The gigantic Indian Dream Catchers that Big Ang was wearing as ear rings must have brought her good luck while they were clubbing, because she didn’t even spend “one dollah” the whole night. Love them Wise Guys.
Besides drinks and smokes, Big Ang reveals that over the years the Guys have also bought her jewelry, houses, cars, three implants and a pair of shiny lips that would give any Chapstick CEO a wet dream.
But she wants more red sauce, and more surgery.
If someone doesn’t give Big Ang her own show soon I will bankroll it myself. I swear I will.
Now that Drita is going ahead with her divorce from Lee, she is going through some Mob Cleansing, which includes hawking some jewelry and possibly selling the house. Since she has not told her daughter yet the whole thing is kind of on the down low, but she needed to get the ball rolling and met with the realtor.
The Century 21 lady was nice enough, and didn’t squirm too much knowing that she was inside a Mob house with 15 locks on the front door. She even professionally noted that the home had everything that a buyer would be looking for, except for God knows whatever lays behind that locked door that Drita wouldn’t open.
I didn’t see any potpourri, and the place didn’t smell, so I’m pretty sure there are no bodies behind the door. But never say never. Go ahead and put in a bid if you’re interested.
Speaking of interested. Karen and Ramona were interested in meeting some boys, and went out on the prowl.
It was a good opportunity to grab some liquor and learn a little bit more about Ramona and her white teeth. I already knew that she probably used White Strips twice a day, but I didn’t realize that she had married an Arabic dude. She traveled the world, ate lots of food that most of us only see on the Food Network, and apparently learned how to suck on one of those Hookah smoking cords like a porn star.
Whoa. Good thing the kids were out of the room.
When Lawrence of Arabia decided to go into the Mob, Ramona left the Middle East but kept the Mob mentality and the bad ass attitude. Don’t mess with her.
Seriously. Send her back over there and all our troops will be home by the end of the month.
My girl Big Ang tried a softer approach, and managed to get everyone together for lunch to clear the air. Carla and Renee made up, but Renee wouldn’t read her the book report until they were somewhere private. I told you…just like in 5th grade. Maybe she wanted to ask her to the dance in the cafetorium. Everyone’s going.
Maybe not though, since Renee is getting back together with Junior. After 22 years of therapy and screaming matches and divorce attorneys, it looks like the two of them are going to try and make it work again. Despite the fact that Junior is just about to go back into the slammer again for more of the same, after their Chick Flick stroll in the park things seem to be going well.
At the Steak House for a romantic dinner, Junior finally admits to doing her wrong over the years…ie, cheating…which makes Renee break down into her weekly cry.
They agree to give it a go again, as long as Renee doesn’t yell about his Goldfish crackers all over the house and Junior stops boinking Jersey Hooters girls.
I don’t know.
I’d like to wish them well…but somebody is probably going to leave nasty crumbs in bed somewhere, if you know what I mean.
We finished off the episode with two Reports. One from the Police. One from Renee.
Karen got a call from Ramona, who was pulled over with her non-Arabic boyfriend by 7 police cars. I’m thinking he didn’t just roll through a stop sign, but we’ll have to wait to find out what happened.
And in a Hallmark Channel moment, Renee finally read the letter to Carla complete with (bleeps) and grammatical errors. I think even Renee got bored with the whole thing though, because she started skimming through the boring parts straight to the good stuff almost as soon as she began. But Carla got the gist of where Renee was going with it, and they seemed ok by the end. For now.
Renee’s in a good place, what with Junior back in her life and all. And she does look pretty slick after the surgery mess.
It was (bleepin’) touching.
Dat’s rite…(bleepin’) hug it out. But watch your backs.
