He has a scar over his right eye and possibly a long extension cord sticking out of his shirt. Find him!
Spoiler Alert. This can’t be good at all.
Jail vs. Renee. I feel your pain. Take your time deciding, dude.
He’s a hottie, but I think it’s just his battery pack wires overheating.
Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. Eat ‘em if you have to, honey. I know you’re having a bad day.
Oh no, he din’t.
Hector “Junior” Pagan just unleashed a whole briefcase full of unmarked CrazyBills on us this week, and the Mob Wives will never be the same.
Get some munchies. This one’s super-sized.
After what seemed like endless attempts at fixing their on again/off again, in jail again/outta jail again relationship, both Renee and that sloppy relationship completely unraveled this week.
In a series of events that pretty much sent Renee over the edge and guaranteed at least four DEA officers shiny departmental commendations, the show that questionably appears to make crime seem ok spun out of control.
But in that good, pop some popcorn and text OMG to your BFF kind of way, I mean.
The whole thing started off pretty low key as Carla and Drita went out clubbing. Since filing the divorce papers against Lee, Drita has been on a kinda sorta ManHunt. But she is painfully out of practice, having been loyal to Lee for years, even during his unfortunate incarceration(s)…single or plural…I forget who has been in and out of the Big House the most.
Seriously. This show is a lot of work. I need to figure out how to do Excel on this laptop so I can create a spreadsheet. Like a bookie racing form, or that Dance Moms cheat sheet they always seem to have in their purse at every competition. I know all the guys have been in jail, but I never know who gets my annual Holiday card.
So the two Wives hit the New York City club scene in an attempt to release Drita back into the Wild, much like they do with seagulls after they wash all the BP off of them on National Geographic Television. Except this seagull is still completely covered in olive oil, and will violently peck your eyes out if you cross it. I’m not so sure this one is ready to be released quite yet.
After fist pumping and chest pounding a string of horny city boys into a bruised semi consciousness, even Drita herself began to realize that maybe she needed a refresher course on the singles scene. Dancing on the speakers with sparklers might have gotten Snookie preggos, but on Drita…not such a good look.
By the time a Juice Head named “Anthony from Connecticut” tried using Lee’s name as a pick up line, Drita cracked a few more unsuspecting sissy boy ribs and then hit the road.
The Mob Wives Restaurant Tour continued with Karen, Ramona, Ramona’s blindingly white teeth and Reality Goddess Big Ang all hitting up a local snack shack.
Big Ang was rocking her new bangs, which only made me love her more.
I mean, really.
Extra long bangs, those delightfully crazy eyes poking out from underneath, glossy lips that look like they could inflate during an airplane crash and those Wise Guy funded boobs.
I didn’t even know where to look first.
And you wonder why I love me some Big Ang so much?
(Now that you mention it, I’m not even certain if she has a nose…I’ve never noticed.)
The three of them sat around reminiscing about the Good Ol’ Gangstah Days when men were men, Wise Guys were Wise Guys and women could sneak pork chops into the prisons under their boobs. Those were good times.
Big Ang even flashed back to her own earlier arrest when a friend, who was secretly wired with a surveillance mic, let the Feds listen in on Big Ang while she was takin’ care of bizness in the ladies room.
Now I love me some Big Ang. Well documented. And every week I say that having a Big Ang ring tone would make me the coolest kid at recess. But I think maybe even I would draw the line on that sound bite.
Unless you can find it for me, of course. I’d have to hear it first I guess, before I jump to any conclusions. I mean. It’s Big Ang for cryin’ out loud.
Am I the only one who thinks she laughs like Herman Munster? Love. Her.
Before we all started wondering how many prison meals Big Ang could sneak in under those mamajamas, it was time for the weekly Renee vs. Junior head butt confrontation.
Standing behind the kitchen island and THREE packs of Newports, Renee was trying to keep Junior’s parole affairs in order and keep him on track for a smooth transition back to prison in a few weeks. What started out as an exercise in calendar tracking quickly turned into yet another ReneeSpaz as she went on and on about trying to fix their relationship and how she wished he wouldn’t go back to prison.
Umm.
1. It’s pretty much a done deal, honey. It’s not really a go if you’re in the mood kind of decision. Maybe you should have wished for Junior to get a job at the Staten Island Gap all those years ago if you wanted to keep him out of prison.
2. You know how cows can sleep standing up? I swear Junior can sleep with his eyes open. That pretty much sums up their recent interactions.
For a little comic relief before the heavy stuff went down, Big Ang and Drita headed to Little Italy to get some authentico meatio at the marketo. (That’s all the Italian I know.)
It was basically a crash course in why you should only buy top grade prosciutto and never marry a sanitation worker, as Big Ang finally gave Drita a quick glimpse into her personal life. Seems that her attempts at a non-Wise Guy courtship didn’t go so well, and Big Ang had booted her husband of 2 1/2 years out of the house. He was going out all night, drinking and cheating on her and the whole thing was a “Disastaaaah!”
Disastaaaaah. (Insert a big Herman Munster right here.)
The Big Ang Dating Rule Book now clearly states that your man should be younger, richer, pay all the bills and not empty your neighbors’ garbage cans every Tuesday morning.
Seeing Big Ang get all NeNe “MnmmHmm” Leakes and talk about getting herself a new man was comedy gold. Two pops, Girlfriend. (That’s Gangstah for Two Snaps. Der.)
We also got a quick scene with Carla and her newly released ex Joe discussing Speed Dating. Let’s just say that for someone who just spent a whole bunch of years sealed up in a men-only prison, the dude sure knew an awful lot about speed dating.
But I’m not here to judge. Or get my knee caps broken.
Carla used that new found knowledge to join Drita on a Firemen Only Speed Dating Night, and by the end I think it was safe to assume that Engine Company 69 would rather risk burning to death in a backdraft than take their chances on a night out with Drita. She definitely still needs a few more lessons before she can fly on her own without hurting somebody.
After spending a sleepless, untouched night with Junior, Renee woke up to find him already gone to what she mistakenly assumed was a meeting with his parole officer. Still depressed over their last discussion, Renee pretty much spent the day in bed.
When she finally made it out of bed, Renee found a note from Junior written on that same kind of bright yellow notepad paper that you used to use when you asked someone to the Junior High dance. (And you’d make a box for “Yes” and a box for “No” and then the bitch would check it off and break your heart. You know what I mean. And now she’s fat with a million kids and she doesn’t know what she’s missing.)
But I digress.
Anyway. Turned out that Junior had left to turn himself into the Feds for armed robbery and brandishing a pistol, and had no plans on returning home for another 7 years or so. And now Renee had no idea where he was, what precinct he was at or how to get ahold of him.
So that left Renee all alone in the house with nothing but wine, cigarettes, her meds and a cell phone.
You do the math.
Wait for it.
Boom goes the dynamite.
Renee melted down. The first of many to come.
She called everyone she could think of to try and track down Junior. Friends, cousins, jail houses. Everyone but Ghostbusters, to no avail. She was calling friends like she was on that Regis game show. It was craziness.
Junior’s note stated that he hoped Renee would find someone else and move on, and the whole thing just got messy.
For those of you who don’t read books anymore and know what I mean…it was another one of those Reality TV moments similar to Russell Taylor’s suicide on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills when you realize that someone is having a real life breakdown, and it’s not just television anymore. But you keep watching it and filming it anyway and thinking about all those great ratings and counting how many hits the website will get on one hand, while the other hand is putting 911 on speed dial.
You could almost hear the VH1 interns bolt out the front door.
Finally Karen and Nikole (spelled like a Toddlers & Tiaras girl, natch) showed up to try and talk her off the ledge.
Nikole kind of looks like Cher during one of her curly blonde phases, but not really. She managed to fake out a corrections officer on her cell and found out where Junior was and that he was ok. But the whole thing just kept getting stranger and stranger when only bits and pieces of info would trickle out as Renee cycled back and forth between chain smoking and getting car sick.
She was a mess. A hot one.
Then in a questionable show of friendship, Karen and Nikole both left Renee alone for the night, which was probably not in anyone’s best interest.
Well into that third pack of Newports, Renee tracked down her cousin who just happened to be over at the home of Renee’s estranged father. Before Renee could get two sentences out, she heard the stampede of federal officers storming her father’s home and taking him away.
Renee snapped like the leg of someone 6 months late on his gambling payment.
Spoiler Alert: The final scoop.
If you don’t want to know wassup until next week’s episode, simply scroll lower in this blog where you will find enough other brilliance to keep you occupied while the rest of us dish. You’ll also need to unplug every television and radio in your home, hide your computer and don’t go near any CVS magazine rack.
By now it’s pretty much public knowledge that Junior went FBI informant and worked out a deal to avoid jail time. According to Renee and the internet universe, Junior was wired with a mic during meetings with Renee’s dad Anthony “TG” Graziano and helped gather enough evidence to put his former father-in-law behind bars.
The Ultimate Betrayal.
Junior is now allegedly in the Witness Protection Program (..please don’t be in my building, please don’t be in my building, please don’t be in my building…or at least have a sense of humor…I’m funny, right?…) and has not been seen since he gave over the information to the Feds.
If you’re keeping score, that’s one mob informant and one sanitation worker that haven’t been seen in some time.
And Drita thinks she has Man Trouble.
