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Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

By Danthatscool @DanScontras

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

 

Do you seriously not see me curling her hair? Go sit down and wait your turn, you crazy bitch.

 

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

 

She comes at me and I’ll motorboat her with these things so hard she won’t hear the phone ring.

 

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

 

Ok. One pound. So do you want me to use our industrial cheese slicer, or that shiv in your purse?

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

 

C’mon. Did you see those bazongas? Carla doesn’t stand a chance. Those sandbags could stop storm flooding.

 

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

 

Holy (bleep)…I’m sitting between Patti LaBelle and Cher. The girls ain’t never gonna believe this.

 

Quick.  Before I forget everything.

There was a lot of stuff going on this week with everyone’s favorite Mob Wives.

Some of it was grammatically challenged.

Most of it was either (bleeped) out or took place at a car wash.  Residents of Staten Island seem to really appreciate the virtues of a clean automobile.

And needless to say…all of it was crazy.  Really crazy.

Picking up right where we left her in last week’s cliffhanger, our harried heroine Renee was still barreling down I-278 clutching her cell phone, a pack of Newports, that mystery letter from Junior and, occasionally, an actual steering wheel.

After exhausting her phone’s entire contact list, Renee had finally tracked down Ramona, who was getting her hair did across town.  With no consideration whatsoever for how long it takes to get an appointment for a Jerseylicious blow out at Visage Salon, Renee inconsiderately jumped ahead of everyone else in the appointment book and stormed her way right up to the Hair Guy’s station.

It was hard to tell if Ramona even finished getting her money’s worth in the chair this time, because Renee pulled her outside to read the letter so quickly that it kind of shook everything up.  Plus it was windy, and Ramona’s hair ended up looking like it always does before she throws down with another chick on the rooftop.

And now that you mention it, I don’t even think she tipped the guy.

Dine and Dash.  Curl and Cut Out, suckahs.

The letter began with an ominous “This is serious to your future” and ended with an odd “Junior The Strongest,” which I have to assume is going to be his online Playstation 4 alias if they ever release the stupid thing.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

Ramona immediately started chomping her Whitestrip teeth about how threatening letters like this should never even make it over prison walls if the Warden actually follows protocol.  Renee remarked that Junior was always the guy other guys went to if they needed something “handled,” because Junior always knew a guy who knew a guy.

Ramona freaked out that he might have gotten out of prison.

Renee freaked out that maybe Junior had never been in prison and that he was already released from government protection following that whole Rat Snitch thing.

It should also be noted that neither of them bothered to just flip the envelope over and look at the postmark, so I think it’s safe to assume that the CIA doesn’t have either of them on speed dial.

Renee squeezed in one bonus freak out when she realized that she couldn’t even notify the authorities and make the letter public, which she explained while mic’d for the third season of a reality television show.

I guess they don’t get VH1 in the Witness Protection Big Brother House.

A new record.  Four minutes into the latest episode and we’d already witnessed our weekly Mob Wives head scratch moment.

As if that wasn’t cray cray enough for you, it was on to Love Majewski‘s place for cocktails with her Mom Lorraine and Karen.

Seriously.  The only thing better than Crazy, is Proud & Crazy.

And if you’re Proud & Crazy and you talk crazy and you live in a crazy apartment?

Score.

I love me some Love.

Everything about her is crazy.  Her gene pool is crazy.  Her hair is crazy.  Her eyes and lips are crazy.  Even her boobs are crazy.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

This was the first time we really got any backstory on this psycho bitch (…her words, not mine, so call off the hit, please…) and it was Gold.

When Love was only 14, her BFF had gotten knocked up one day after school.  And Mommy don’t play dat, so Lorraine yanked her daughter out of Staten Island so fast and hard that it caused her breasts to develop earlier than anyone else in homeroom.

But taking the girl out of SI doesn’t necessarily take the SI out of the girl, as Love reminisced about breaking at least 14 noses before losing count of the carnage.

(If you’re playing Lotto tonight, 14 seems to be somebody’s lucky digits.  Just throwing that out there before you scratch any tickets.)

Love had shot one fiancé, stabbed somebody else, poisoned somebody else and did something else to somebody else that I can’t recall.

She also had peace signs painted on her wine glasses, dead animal skins on her chairs and a globe in her apartment, which she apparently never referenced before stating that Arizona is a state in the midwest.  It’s safe to assume that the Weather Channel doesn’t have this one on speed dial, either.

But even more importantly, behind Mom on the end table was a framed photo that looked like some TV news anchor’s head shot and I totally obsessed over it until the next commercial.  Who poses like that?

Did I already mention that I love me some Love?

Dirty mouths are one thing, but dirty cars are another, so Big Ang and Carla headed to the Scrub & Shine to smoke some skinny cigarettes and get the wheels detailed.

They talked about the Botox Bash (…get your boop boop boop done…) and Carla’s issues with Joe‘s new girlfriend Raquel.  Carla also managed to sneak in some Renee bashing while Angela tried to remain neutral and play like Staten Island Switzerland.

Ang just wanted the drahmaahh to end.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

While the girls were getting their rims rubbed, Karen was at a financial planner’s office to figure out what to do with all that Mob Daughter book money.

Since I don’t know the first thing about saving money, I kind of zoned out for a few moments like I do when Suze Orman is on QVC.

(Seriously.  It’s a $200 accordion folder.  What the hell?)

While the planner slowly reached under her desk for that button that all the bank tellers push when they’re at gunpoint, Karen revealed that Baby Daddy Dave was currently living rent-free in midwest Arizona and that the walls of her childhood home are probably still insulated with uncirculated hundred dollar bills.

Turns out that Daddy Sammy The Bull wasn’t big on putting money into banks.  Taking money out of banks on the other hand, was way more fun…especially when it wasn’t yours.  Don’t try this at home, kids.

With no end in sight for all the drahmaahh, Renee’s addiction to pills and/or booze just wasn’t going away on its own.  So before she went completely off the deep end of the Boardwalk, she decided to drop in on a group therapy session.  And it was a little slice of reality rehab heaven.  

I don’t know who they are, or where they found them, but the women in the group need their own show.  Immediately.

They were all head bobbin’ and MmmHmmm, Girlin’ and the whole thing just gave me life.  The group leader was even so excited to get to work that she hadn’t bothered to blend in her Maybelline blush.  No lie.  Little clown face circles.  With the kind of eyebrows that you could thread through a sewing needle.

Even more exciting than that was the fact that Renee found herself sandwiched between two women who I swear were original members of Labelle.  As she dealt with some heavy s*** concerning Junior overmedicating her for months in an attempt to keep all his undercover snitch work a secret, all I really cared about was whether or not they were going to finally stand up and sing Lady Marmalade.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Next up was dinner with Drita and Love, who dished on some Carla gossip and Love’s new Bunhead fashion statement.

The way they both went on and on about Love pulling her hair up like she was about to perform a pivotal scene from the Nutcracker made it clear that neither of them had actually been to the Nutcracker or caught the televised version.

It’s just a bun, people.  Nothing to see here.

We did find out that Love and Carla had both dated the same man at the same time a few years back, and that he had turned out to be some crazy stalker type who wouldn’t leave Love alone after she dumped him.

We also learned that Love was even crazier than we thought when we were all having cocktails earlier in the episode.  She will mess Carla up, bitch.

Then it was time for some fresh air as Karen attempted a little one-on-one volleyball with her daughter Karina.

Fresh from the airport after flying in from the gem of the midwest, Karina attempted to show her Mom how to whack some balls with a closed fist instead of a baseball bat.

The whole thing took a bad turn when Karina casually mentioned that not only did Baby Daddy Dave have a new girlfriend, but that she had spent some alone time with her and that it was possible that the new girlfriend could be the owner of the warm thong Karina had found in her bedroom.

One.  Keep your underwear on.

Two.  Don’t take them off in a little girl’s room, please.  Hello Kitty.

Three.  Keep your underwear on.  That’s just nasty.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.

Karen handled that one as well as you would have expected.  She almost busted a cap, which is StatenIslandSpeak for cap-YOU-larry.  Like an artery.

(Remember, I told you there were a few grammatical challenges this week.)

Also almost busting a cap was Renee, who was back home cutting Junior’s face out of every Polaroid photo she could find in her closet.  Looking like those eighth grade girls look like when they catch their man standing at some seventh grade whore’s locker, Renee was going at those photographs like Edward Scissorhands.  By the time Ramona arrived, the Snitch Pile of clippings were large enough to turn into a rather impressive trash can bonfire, with Junior’s Dick Tracy Secret Agent Wire Tap watch thrown in for good measure.

Instead of continuing on and burning the entire house down, Renee decided to just move out and purge herself of anything even remotely reminiscent of Junior.  A few phone calls and one giant dumpster later, she and AJ were Moving On Up to a deluxe house in the ‘burbs.

Put the Neighborhood Watch on…umm…watch.  Renee had arrived in her new digs.

Next up, for the fashionistas out there, Drita gave Aleeyah a few pointers on what young tween girls should wear to a minimum security prison.   No gangstah hoodies or bare shoulders.  A little creepy, but necessary info if you’re planning to go and visit your Dad Lee anytime soon.

Then it was back to the car wash again.  This time Ramona and Karen needed some rim rubbing, so they hit up family friend Anthony.  Better known for banging bullet casing dents out of fenders and having the soon to be classic nickname “Mootzie,” Anthony hooked the girls up just fine as they discussed ThongGate.  What to do.  What to do.

We finished off the episode with Renee’s surprise announcement that she would be heading to Florida and checking herself into rehab.  AJ thought it was BS, even though it was the Sunshine State, and I wondered why she couldn’t find anything closer.

But he supported his Mom no matter what, even though he looked pretty dopey wearing a camouflage hunting cap.

And then it was over.

But don’t pop a cap.  Or lose your thong.

There’s more next time.

Mob Wives: Don’t Pop A Cap, It’s Only Threats And Thongs. Make A Snitch Pile And Spread Some Crazy Love.


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