And I was all like “Girrrrl, pleez. I smell a rat up in this hizzle fo’ shizzle, bitch.”
And I was all like “OMG Junior! WTF and stuff. Duh.”
And I was all like “Ooooooh. You can talkz about banging …but never about snitching!”
And I was all like “Man Up! Go to prison and take it like a man. Any questions?”
And I was all like “Oh. Hell. No. They did not just wire up Renee’s Baby Daddy. MmmHmm.”
And you thought wiring a router into your modem was big drama?
Try running microphone cable up a mobster’s pant leg and see what that gets you.
In a nutshell…it get you a new Social Security card courtesy of the Witness Protection Program, a sloppy mental breakdown and so much drama that this week’s episode of Mob Wives should have been a two hour special hosted by Wendy Williams wearing her big wig.
That’s what it gets you.
Hold up. I need to splash a little water on my face and compose myself before we get into all this chaos.
This week kicked off right where we left everyone last time.
The Wives were all reeling from the news that Junior had turned himself into the police, leaving Renee with nothing but a sink full of dirty dishes, loads of unanswered questions, crumbs everywhere and more Newport smokes than I’ve ever seen at any Cumberland Farms convenience store at one time. Ever.
With only a little yellow school note explaining what was about to go down, Junior had left the house and surrendered to the authorities for whatever that last crime was that got him busted, and Renee had flipped out. It was during that initial flip out that she found out her Father had also just been picked up and taken back to jail.
She then flipped out in capital letters. Flipped. Out.
Clutching one of those souvenir filled Bibles that you would expect Taylor Swift or your grandmother to have in their bedrooms, Renee fumbled through the contents while talking to her BFF Nikole about isolation and how rude the Feds were to arrest people before the holidays.
A’ight. Let’s just get this one out of the way early and then we can move on with the good stuff.
I love me my Mob Wives.
And I loooooove me my Big Ang.
But I’m beginning to question whether they realize that crime is…I don’t know…a crime, maybe? Somewhere along the way they seem to have lost the concept of Good vs. Evil, Cops vs. Robbers and Batman vs. The Joker, because this week everyone was all up in arms that when you rob a bank you don’t get Thanksgiving dinner before they cuff you.
I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to point out the facts.
There were a couple of those head scratching moments in this episode, which I’m more than happy to point out…then you judge, mainly because I’m really not in the mood to go swimming with the fishes. I’ve got a busy week ahead and sinking to the bottom of the Long Island Sound isn’t on my Bucket List.
Anyway.
It looked like there was a piece of a yellow ballon or something in the Bible, with a family portrait rubber stamped on it, which was a curiosity. Since they never discussed it after she slipped it back into the Bible, in my head I made up a story about a Birthday Party that was riddled with gunfire and all the balloons popped and little AJ cried. Feel free to use that one, or create your own balloon fantasy story.
While Renee was pressing her balloon pieces, my new favorite female singing group Ramona & The White Strips were hanging out at Big Ang’s Drunken Monkey Bar dishing about the whole Junior thang.
Is there anything better in life than Big Ang? And maybe ice cream?
I mean, c’mon. Look at her. I just want to hang out with her in the bar all day.
Not like those two pervy dudes (…please tell me you noticed…) sitting in the background checking our Ramona’s junk, but belly up to the bar eating peanuts and getting my eyebrows steamed every time Big Ang lets one of those Big Ang laughs rip.
Big Ang lamented the loss of Real Men in the current batch of mobsters. She missed the days when men were men, took it like men, ate it like men, and knew the meaning of loyalty and respect for other men.
Before you get all skeeved out, she was talking about mob loyalty, not anything dirty.
Clean it up, this is a family site.
The news about Junior had, of course, started all the rumor mills cranking and everyone was trying to decipher real from made up, in much the same way some of you may feel when you skim my brilliance.
Word around town was that Junior had sold out to the Feds, worn a wire while talking to his Father-in-law and generally turned RatFink on the mob. Luckily, the drama of selling out to the Feds didn’t seem to hurt anyone’s appetites, because we still got our weekly Mob Wives Restaurant Tour.
Carla and Drita shoveled down cake and random bakery goods while trying to decide if Drita should bring her children to prison to see Lee. The big concern was not really the long lasting effects on a kid’s psyche, but whether or not Drita would throw down with Lee over the divorce papers. They never said if the prison sits them across from each other at a table like they do on General Hospital, or whether Drita would have to pull Lee’s head through one of those holes in the glass divider wall and strangle him with the intercom cord.
I chose the glass wall, to go along with my balloon story. It’s way cooler.
Drita digested that meal quick enough to head over to the Drunken Monkey for another snack and another discussion about Real Men and how they never age in prison, which I attributed to really good bar soap in the showers. Probably Olay or something.
No wonder nobody wants to drop it on the shower floor. If it’s really the Fountain of Youth, I’d hold onto that s*** with both hands, boys.
Speaking of prison secrets, next we went to the Roller Derby with Carla and newly exonerated Joe.
It was like a bad acid trip back to the ’80s as Carla rolled around in her fringed Cher knock-off under the disco ball, while the kids wobbled like Labradoodle puppies.
I’ll give a Bro his props. Joe and his baby face (…thanks, Olay…) were pretty fly on the wheels, considering he just got sprung from the Slammer.
Last week we learned that his jail apparently educated him in Speed Dating etiquette.
This week I’m thinking that Joe may, or may not, have done a little after hours roller skating in the yard once the dogs went to sleep.
I’m starting to wonder if Joe did hard time in Xanadu. (Google it, kids.)
Interspersed throughout all this revelry were a few more Renee meltdowns. One took place at Ramona’s, where she and Karen were attempting to not only prove they could actually eat a meal at home, but get Renee to be thankful for what she had left in her shattered life. As Karen tried to say Grace, Renee blew Nutty #576 and stormed out of the house.
Finally, one of the Wives figured out that nothing takes the edge off another 7 years in prison like a Drag Show, so despite Big Ang’s prior trip down Memory Lane, they all headed out to where the men were not so much like men.
To say it was like the Mother Ship had just touched ground and Big Ang was going home again would be an understatement.
For the first time in the series, someone had bigger hair and bigger bazoingazz than Big Ang. It was something that you can tell your grandchildren about years from now.
Trust me…I’m already saving up my allowance for the Director’s Cut DVD.
Right on the heels of RuPaul’s Mob Race, by the time they got home and wiped off the glitter the press was reporting Junior had indeed sold out to the Feds.
Flipping, as they call it.
Not the Jeff Lewis buy a house, organize the closet, fix up the bathroom and sell it for mo’ money kind of Flipping, but the tape a wire to your stomach and start naming names kind.
This news leaked out right after the Drag Show, so that probably explains why I initially thought Drita was talking about GangBang News. But it was GangLand News, and the reporter Jerry Capeci is an authority on the stuff.
(Side note…yes, full disclosure…I did try to immediately go on the website and it had crashed already. Don’t you people wait for commercials anymore?)
Later on, Big Ang shared some munchies with her gal pal Linda and unleashed even more Yoda-isms regarding proper gangster behavior. She needs her own Learning Annex seminar. I would totally pay cash.
There were also a couple more Renee meltdowns here and there, accompanied by a few more of those head scratching moments. One was Karen declaring that a MobRat was the scummiest of all low lifes, which I guess if you do the math would put them lower than the people who actually commit the crimes that the MobRat rats out. I dunno.
As the news spread, the drama and the outfits got wilder.
Karen and Renee shared a meltdown while Ramona sat by and watched. Since Karen had already lived through the MobRat process with her dad, she had a good group cry and then presumably began coaching Renee on how to get a book deal.
Big Ang, in possibly the best Big Ang Ensemble yet, strolled into her sister’s boutique to take a look at the newspaper headlines. In some whackadoodle mashup of a PTA dominatrix meets Janet Jackson meets Jackie O, Big Ang was styling in head to toe black pleather (…were those spaceman gloves…?) as sis Janine spread out the morning’s headlines on the cash wrap.
In that one scene I grew to love Big Ang even more.
Everywhere you turned it was scandal. And Flipping. And RatFink. And MobRat. And ManUp.
The only place where Renee could go to escape was church, where she went to light a few candles and have another meltdown. I felt bad for anyone else in the pew trying to pray for a sick pet or the next MegaMillions. Seriously. She was going off like one of those old wailing women in the black veils who fall on the caskets in the movies and have to be carried back into town on horseback.
Girlfriend wore me out this week.
Crime seems like a lot of work.
