My ass she can cook.
Being me is so hard.
Can you do me a favor?
The next time you’re driving the turnpike and cross the line from New York into New Jersey, can you stick your head out the sunroof and look above the toll booth? I’m pretty sure that there has to be a big ass embossed green sign declaring “Welcome To The State Of Bad Parenting. Let Your Kids Run Rampant And Always Wear Your Seatbelt.”
At the bottom is probably the NJ state seal or flower or something, and a big sticker with one of the Guidice kids’ sour puss faces on reflective highway tape. Seriously.
This week the whole thing just stunk of poor parenting skills and eau de snotty kids.
Which, even though it makes your eyes burn and your ears bleed, in the World of Reality Inhalants the stank is more commonly referred to as the sweet smell of really good TV.
Within the first 10 minutes we found out that Teresa can’t cook, balance a checkbook or control her kids. None of these points were actually newsflashes worthy of the CNN crawl at the bottom of your screen, but it does make you wonder what that woman does with her free time.
It was photo shoot day for the cover of Teresa’s newest cookbook. The latest hardcover is all about family recipes. La familia as they say on the frozen dinner box. All the recipes were created by her Mamma. None were created by Teresa. In a weird kind of Italian Toddlers & Tiaras opposite day/alternate reality kind of thing, it’s now the daughter who gets to live vicariously through the mother. Bravo TV just replaced the Glitz Wear portion of the contest with Ravioli crimping tips.
Snarky sister-in-law Melissa was quick to point out that she’s never actually seen Teresa cook but I guess that doesn’t really matter to the New York Times Best Seller List people. Just have Mamma bring home the bacon, show you how to fry it up in a pan and then get your airbrushed face over to Regis & Kelly to pimp the book. The check is in the mail. Feel free to use it to pay off a creditor or two.
I guess no one thought that it might be a good idea if Teresa’s three girls got a little sleep the night before the shoot. Either that or everything Mamma/Teresa cooks centers around chopped onions, because those three didn’t stop crying the entire time the photographer was in Casa de Guidice.
At least I think there were only three of them. It’s still hard to tell, since Teresa insists on dressing them alike and naming them alike, on top of God having blessed them all with the same eyebrows and bad attitude. I am in no way condoning violence, but somewhere between Child Labor laws and Family Court Rulings there has got to be a loop hole that would allow for one good biff upside the head that doesn’t end with a jail sentence. Remember the good ol’ days when Aunt Mamie would threaten to smack you into yesterday? Or maybe poppa Joe could put the fork down and get his Gold’s Gym gut up from the table long enough to try his hand at parenting. It must have been the photog’s tripod lighting that was making him sweat like that.
Not to be outdone, cousin Kathy got some Mom time. She and her hubby with the googly BluBlocker eyeglasses had a little discussion about their 16 year old daughter, and how it might be time to have “The Talk” and there was so much wrong with that scene I don’t know where to even start.
First they were in the daughter’s room, probably just finishing up a full snoop swipe of the premises. Get out of there. Right now. Second, she is 16. Sixteen. A little late, folks. Should have thought this one out before the Junior Formal rolled around. Third, as they plotted how to keep boys out of her junk until she is married, they were uncomfortably surrounded by way too many soft focus Jersey Mall Glamourshots of their daughter. If you want to keep her squeaky clean, maybe she shouldn’t be wearing that mesh sweater and cowboy boots while all the Dirty Boys sneak a peek from the Cinnabon on the other side of the fountain. Der.
Dad, though blessed with a keen sense of eyewear fashion, lives in total denial. Mom, on the other hand, is just bug eyed as she plots when and where to have the discussion.
Apparently the only time and place she could come up with, as we all witnessed later on, was in the middle of a gown store full of customers and sales clerks. After realizing for the first time, I assume, that her daughter wears a bra and can totally hold up that sequined prom gown, Kathy decides to get into the whole “Boys have urges” thing. A teenagers worst nightmare. If my Mom had pulled that one in the Action Hero Toy aisle at Target I would have blown a nutty. Let me break it down into TeenTalk for you hipsters who like to text with no punctuation and may be contemplating also having the same discussion:
Mom was all like boys are bad and Daughter was all like shoot me in the face and Mom was all like be a good girl and Daughter was all like seriously Mom? and Mom got all nervous itchy and Daughter just wanted the blue dress that made her butt look hot so shut up Mom people are looking. Smiley face. LOL.
But this episode was a Triple Threat of Bad Parenting, and Jacqueline and her Uber spoiled Devil Spawn daughter Ashley were the big guns hauled out for the cliff hanger.
Ashley lives in that spoiled girl world where you don’t have to work or pay rent or treat others with any respect. Not. A. Clue. It was full on pedal to the metal drama when everyone ganged up on her for a little restaurant style Get Your Act Together intervention. Again in a public place. What is it with these families and all the private stuff out in public? They live in homes bigger than my High School, but can’t seem to find an empty room for a family meeting? I don’t want to be eating my burger in the booth next to these people while they melt down. That’s what my TV is for, thank you Bravo.
The whole thing is continued next week so I’ll save you the gory details. But I’m already getting another whiff of bad kids and Italian hot mess soup.
Take a deep breath, and don’t touch that dial.
Ciao.
