Just keep talkin’, Renee. I’ve got five friends right here that want to meet your face.
Forget Ramona’s jewels. The Feds should confiscate these weapons as evidence, bitches.
I do not like Mob Rats and Ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am.
(Bleep) that. I can’t even see my belly. How’m I doin’?
And then I lookz in my imaginary mirror, and I’m on Desperate Housewives and it all goes away.
Oh, those crazy Mob Wives.
Love. Them.
No matter what side of the law they are working, or what side of the bed they get up on…them girls definitely know how to throw punches and parties.
After the last few weeks of drama surrounding Junior and the selling of his soul, his family and his personal radio frequency setting to the Feds in a plea deal that brought down a hefty chunk of the Staten Island Mob, the Wives certainly needed to unwind a little.
Lucky for them, not only was it the Holiday Season, but also the highly anticipated launch of Karen’s Mob Daughter memoir. And nothing says ‘party ‘ like dishing out family dirt around the Christmas tree.
Renee had slowly begun pulling herself together after discovering Junior’s Ultimate Betrayal (…you can tell it was a really big deal because it’s all in caps…) and started picking up the pieces of her life.
Regardless of which side you’re on in that Right vs. Wrong online forum debate over everything that went down with Junior’s wire wearing, you still gotta admit the whole thing must have sucked big ones when it happened.
Nobody likes getting boned by a loved one. At least not that kind.
But trust me, I know, there is only so much food in the refrigerator and so many hours of Bravo on the DVR. Sooner or later you gotta get a comb through all that mess and leave the house.
And I love me my Wives, but I’ll be the first to admit that as I grabbed my snacks for this episode, I did mumble a silent “Pleasepleasepleaseplease don’t let her be crying on the couch again.”
We get it, Renee. Now put on some lipstick and get last week’s newspapers off the front lawn.
After neurotically losing almost 33 pounds (…233 if you count Junior…) Renee took a shower and met up with Ramona, who was no doubt coming back from another of her weekly teeth bleaching appointments.
The two discussed Junior’s actions, and how it played into Values, Morals and Ethics in regards to raising children in this “Lifestyle.”
Yeah. They said that.
And don’t look at me.
I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. Call in to Dr. Drew or something if you want to go into a deeper discussion on that gigantic can of worms.
Ramona was a little wired, but not in the Junior way, because the Feds had confiscated her jewelry collection and she wanted it back. The bling was snatched during a raid on her boyfriend’s home after the two of them were arrested back in that roadblock on the Expressway fiasco a few months ago.
Even though a lot of time has passed, we still don’t know anymore then we did on the first day about why their cowboy wagon was circled by Federal Indian Agents.
Nor do we know what the dude’s name is…and it’s becoming somewhat of an obsession for way too many internet lurkers. Finding out Mr. X’s real name is starting to cut into the time that these people should be spending on World of Warcraft and watching cat videos on youtube. Just pick an Italian name and move on, people.
While Ramona went on and on about her $200,000 worth of earrings, Karen was meeting up with Anessa the Event Planner, to prepare for the Book Launch Party.
Caps again…take note.
The venue was one of those fancy multi-level joints, with spots for both the shy celebrities and the camera whores. Karen explained that this was going to be a really big deal with family, press, movie people, television people, Barnes & Noble people and who knows who else all invited to shmooze and mingle with former and current gangster relations.
The way she went on and on about the guest list, I pretty much assumed that Brad and Angelina would swing by on their way home from H&M, accompanied by Cornelius and Zira from The Planet of the Apes.
Remember when the apes crash landed in New York City? Apes know how to party. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Hell yeah, they’re invited.
As that gala was being planned, another bash was already in progress.
Time for my new favorite holiday movie: Christmas with Big Ang.
In what can only be described as The Real Housewives of New Jersey meets Pixar, Big Ang had crashed her sister Janine’s house for a party that I would have sold my own organs to attend.
I say RHONJ because the house was one of those gigantically gaudy Teresa Giudice houses that probably use 10 dollar bills as toilet paper. And I say Pixar because Big Ang was dressed like that big blue guy from Monsters, Inc.
You know the one. The one that sounded like Rosanne Barr’s TV husband.
I. Love. Big. Ang.
I question her fashion sense on a regular basis, but I worship at her furry vested feet.
When I close my eyes and imagine what Heaven looks like, it looks a lot like that party. It was wall to wall Big Ang look-a-likes drinking, eating, searching for their misplaced smokes and getting so loud that you knew the cops would show before midnight.
Renee also showed up, kissed anyone she could get her hands on, and then posed like Melissa Gorga on the winding staircase. Thank you, Baby Jesus.
By the time Drita showed up, I swear the Christmas tree was even taller than when the party started, and random Big Ang nephews were running around in Staten Island iParty Chippendale bow ties getting the women all horned up.
There were so many Big Angs in the building that I didn’t know where to look first. There were little ones, and big ones and some that were still growing into their Big Angishness.
But there’s only one Big Ang. And she loves her mimosas, even though it seemed that most of the guests had no clue what actually goes into the cocktail.
When the mimosas were complimented, one of the second string Big Angs agreed, and stated that it was like “Christmas in your mouth.”
Best line of the night. Period.
I almost turned the TV off and went to bed early, because nothing else was going to compare for the remainder of the evening.
Open up. It’s Christmas in your mouth, bitch.
There are so many dirty Santa jokes running through my head right now that I may have to lay down for a minute.
After the party, Renee finally met up with Carla to get to the bottom of all this She Said, You Said, They Said You Said gossip that had been blowing around the Island. After weeks of hearing that Carla had supposedly said that Renee knew about Junior cooperating with the Feds, it was a time to find out the truth at yet another of Staten Island’s seemingly endless string of diners.
The scene itself was pretty uneventful, except for the actual menus at the table. Seriously. Please tell me someone else noticed.
For only two people, they were like the Holy Bibles of Diner menus. Massive.
And I swear the booths were yanked from an old McDonald’s. But otherwise, nothing to report on this scene. They talked and kinda sorta made up like they always do.
Besides, there were more important things to watch. Like Big Ang belly dancing.
Ramona had taken Karen, Big Ang and Big Ang’s inflated boobs to a belly dancing studio, and I’m willing to bet that more than a few pervs out there are keeping their DVRs on pause mode until the sight is burned into their screens.
As some tiny instructor shouted “All in the hips! Boom! Boom!” Karen and Big Ang wobbled all over the rehearsal space, each in their own world. Ramona used the time to preach to us again about her Arabic heritage and how she married some blah blah blah…while Big Ang tried not to face plant like a former dictator’s statue in the public rotunda.
Telling someone who has not seen her hips in 20 years to ‘work them’ is pretty pointless, honey. Save your breath.
Then it was time to launch that book.
Karen arrived at the hotel and had her own little “I’m King of the World” moment on the balcony outside her room. Except it was only one of those tiny jut outs that the firemen use to rescue you when the building is burning down…she made it sound like it was the Trump balcony. But she can have her Moment. She worked hard.
Then it was hair and makeup in the hotel room. Picture Toddlers & Tiara gone Gangstah. Except the Pageant Moms are meaner than the Gangster Moms.
Ramona showed up and Karen presented her with an autographed copy of her book. It appeared that Karen must have spent all the advance money on this party and now couldn’t afford a decent pen, because she scribbled inside the book with one of those Sharpies that you use when you can’t find the shoe polish.
C’mon lady…you’re (kinda) famous now. Those pens are for frat party Solo Cups and first day of school backpacks. Get it together.
But I’ll give Karen her props, and not just because she scares me. That party was packed. Full house.
There were so many people that I couldn’t tell if Brad and Angelina had shown up. The apes definitely no-showed, but I couldn’t make out all the other people. Her brother was there for sure.
They even had one of those photo opp backdrops on the way into the launch. If Joan Rivers and the Fashion Police weren’t there, they should have been.
I mean really should have been there. Does anyone in Staten Island know their actual dress size? I don’t think even the Feds could put that kind of squeeze on the Mob.
Badabing!
Hopefully the press liked the book more than Drita did, because she didn’t have too many nice things to say about it over the episode. She did make a delightful truck stop hand job motion with her fist at one point, but I’m not certain where that falls on the Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down scale.
Karen and Ramona got on the mic like two chicks at Spring Break and the room loved it. Show us your T***!
All in all, a good night for Karen. You go, girl.
But the glow was short lived, as the next day another round of Mob busts were made and, thanks to Junior, even more friends got dragged into the fingerprinting room.
On her way to meet up with Karen, Ramona put a call into Big Ang over at the Drunken Monkey to let her know what just went down.
My secret crush Big Ang was wearing some redoinkulously oversized zebra star shaped earrings that I swear I saw once on an episode of Jem and the Holograms, and they got me so distracted I forgot what Ramona told her.
Ramona then scooted over to meet Karen and tell her the same story, but I was still in my hologram daze and didn’t pay attention again. Sumthin sumthin about the bust and Junior and who to trust and more of the same stuff they talked about last time they were together.
This week ended with Renee driving around while talking to Big Ang on the hands free.
And by ‘hands free’ I mean not holding the phone or the wheel, all while blinded by a rear view mirror decorated with so many dingily dangly chandelier crystals that they literally blocked one of her blind spots.
Like I needed another reason to steer clear of Staten Island.
Renee was on the way to her Dad’s first status hearing, again…thank you Junior, and was checking in with Big Ang on the latest deetz surrounding the Mob bust.
Big Ang was walking her little spaz dog Louie, and looked like she was taking a break from filming the next Mission: Impossible sequel as she chilled on the park bench.
I had one more of my hologram black outs, so you’ll have to go online to see what they talked about…or wait until next week.
Sorry. I don’t know what holiday it was.
But it was definitely in my mouth.
