You heard me. Right in front of Macy’s. During a One Day Sale, bitch.
Bring it on, bitch. I ain’t scared. I’ve got a Macy’s card…and a coupon.
I have no clue what these punks girls are talking about. But I love Macy’s.
WTFFF?!? There’s crumbs on my new Macy’s sofa! Crumbs! Crumbs!
Holy (bleep!)
Somewhere in Manhattan the CEO of Macy’s just spit out his cocktail.
I love me my Mob Wives.
And I love shopping at Macy’s…my past due credit statement will testify to that truth.
But the next time I swing by to pick up my shaving cream and free cologne samples I only pray that Drita and Karen are not out front on the sidewalk, because I know where that one is headed.
Thanks to Karen’s (bleepin’) overly descriptive threats on Drita in this week’s episode, I may have to head to Sephora for my toiletries.
The Mob Wives were all up in each other’s grills this week as they tried to repair the damage done by the last few roof top throw downs. Drita and Karen were still circling each other like sharks in dirty water while Ramona tossed in a few more buckets of booze flavored chum.
We started out with Ramona just being released from jail and scooting over to Karen’s to fill her in on the details. After 4 kids and and an ex-husband, Ramona finally caved and fell in love with someone in “the business,” and is apparently already paying the price.
After being pulled over by 7 cop cars while riding with her boyfriend, Ramona was handcuffed and dragged off to jail. She had no idea what was going on or why she was being bullied.
Hate to say it, because she can be a looker and has some dangerously white teeth…but I’m pretty certain that if she was arrested wearing the same hippy granola dress that she had on when she showed up at Karen’s, it was the Fashion Police.
Yikes. Honey.
Unless you were heading to the Mall to return that thing when you got pulled over, I don’t know what to say. No excuse.
Turns out her boyfriend was arrested for some DEA drug sumthin sumthin which she thought was lame. No big deal, right?
Yikes. Honey. Again.
Seven police cars don’t usually circle a guy and throw him on the hood for buying a joint behind the high school dumpster, so I’m thinking it might be a bigger deal than he is letting on. Karen is a romantic at heart and doesn’t think that just because the DEA is after her boyfriend that he is all bad. Love conquers all. Even in that dress.
Kids…the moral of the story is stay off drugs.
And don’t piss off Joan Rivers.
Moving on to bigger and louder things, Drita and her Siamese Twin Carla head to Ultimate Reality Diva Big Ang’s bar to throw back a few and reminisce about the good old days.
Big Ang is in full blown Big Ang Mode, smoking and drinking and laughing like she swallowed a cotton ball. Decked out in a white wife beater that was clearly manufactured out of the same fabric used to prevent military planes from splashing into the ocean when they land on floating carriers, Big Ang was her usual life of the party.
I love her. So much.
As Drita relived her glory days beating up mouthy Jersey girls at Big Ang’s old club Nocturnals, everyone pounded shots and longed for the good ol’ days when bouncers would get stabbed but never tell.
Somewhere in the middle of Drita listing how many jaws she had broken over the years Big Ang gets a call that her son AJ had been in an accident, totaled the car and may or may not have been high again. Turns out the police must have Big Ang on speed dial because AJ gets arrested pretty much every week, has no job and spends the majority of his time mooching and wearing Jersey Shore sunglasses.
But Big Ang takes it all in stride. And if she’s cool wid it, then so am I.
It was Moving Day for Junior as he dragged all his belongings back into Renee’s house again for the second or third time. After their Lifetime Movie semi-reconciliation, Renee is allowing Junior to shack up with her as long as he does not bring in girls or crumbs.
He has a bad habit of leaving both girls and crumbs laying all over town, and Renee would prefer he break that habit asap, so that is House Rule #1. No hoes or crumbs in bed. Especially crumby hoes.
Junior and some of his random buddies shlepped Staten Island’s largest sectional up the front steps along with bags and boxes of more randomness. Since Junior is about to go back to prison…again…the whole thing seemed like a lot of work for nothing, unless he was just looking for something cheaper than a storage unit rental.
Aside from the fact that the sofa was clearly the same sofa that shows up in every episode of Toddlers & Tiaras, the scene was pretty uneventful. Renee got bossy and wanted to be in charge of the living room layout. Her full body makeover must be healing up well because not only did she look much sleeker than before, but she was shoving both Junior and couch pieces around with one hand. You go, girl.
While Renee and Junior played house, Drita and her trusty sidekick Carla met up with Derek Tobacco.
Besides having THE best ABC After School Special cartoon name EVER, Derek was also the dude lucky enough to be in the middle of the Drita vs. Karen rumble that went down during Renee’s Celebration of Life Party.
Derek had jumped in and tried to protect Drita as punk Karen and punk Ramona wailed on her with all four paws, and can hopefully solve the mystery of whether or not punk Karen hit Drita when she was being held down.
Because only punk a** bitches would do that, don’tcha know.
Drita likes to use her fists…and the word punk…a lot. And usually at the same time.
Derek pleaded the Fifth on the subject and wouldn’t reveal what he knew. He did however demonstrate the proper way to restrain a crazed Mob Wife, because as you pull them apart like wild cougars you must still respect them and not touch their naughty bits. It’s a Mob thing.
It’s also actually a fairly elaborate up and over kind of thing that allows you to protect their skulls from impact, but still allows the assailant access to their weaves.
I’m going to need to practice that one a few times before I try to cut in on any MILFs Gone Wild.
Before the final confrontation of the week, we got a glimpse at a few questionable parenting moments.
Renee’s son AJ, who I guess could share monogrammed cufflinks with Big Ang’s son AJ if he wanted to, has started acting out even more than he normally does since Junior came back into the picture. He has also started dating a girl who makes him aggressive for reasons yet unknown, and AJ recently kicked in his Mom’s bedroom door instead of turning the knob and saying hello. She doesn’t want him turning to a Life of Crime like his father, but if he robs something it better be a bank and not a candy store.
Her words. Not mine.
Renee also didn’t like the (bleepin’) way AJ was (bleepin’) swearing at her, which made me scratch my head a little. I guess the (bleepin’) Apple doesn’t (bleepin’) fall…well…you know how the rest of that one goes.
AJ#2 on the other hand, has no job and apparently doesn’t plan on getting one unless it’s at Sunglass Hut.
He also doesn’t believe that just because his Mom’s new boyfriend recently got out of jail for murdering someone that he’s a bad person. And besides, the recently released inmate/boyfriend is going to buy Big Ang a puppy like the one on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Hold up.
This guy knows Giggy? People in prison know Giggy? That changes everything.
Anyone that watches Bravo is ok in my book. Even if they killed someone.
And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter, just in case AJ#2 Googles my site by mistake.
Moving on.
For a little slice of suburbia, Renee invites Karen, Ramona and all their kids to her house for some pasta and potty mouth.
It seems that since Junior has now moved in and given up, at least temporarily, his extra marital affairs he has been filling the down time with crackers and cookies and any other food group that could potentially leave crumbs on the couch.
And the floor. And the chair. And the bath tub.
Wasn’t he already warned about this one? Renee is not handling it well at all.
Seriously. I don’t think she would be this upset to find (alleged) body parts in the backyard.
I really thought she was going to bust her back stitches again as she screamed and yelled and swore about the crumbs, all while managing to pull out a hot pan of perfectly seasoned pasta for all to enjoy.
And don’t get her started on how Junior leaves the TV on at night.
And then back to the crumbs.
When she turned her wrath on the table of little goombahs waiting for their Spaghetti-Os, they all looked up at her like someone just told them the truth about Santa Claus.
You know at least two of the kids still need to sleep with a light on ever since Pasta Night at Aunt Renee’s. True fact.
We finished off that big meal by sitting down for another with Karen and Carla, who were attempting to get to the bottom of their issues.
While terrified Steak House waiters lurked behind columns, Karen laid it all out. It was a Network Censor’s worst nightmare.
Ever since that first roof top throw down with Drita when Carla stood by and let them go at it, Karen has hated her all Summer. She saw Carla laughing while she was getting punched and yanked around.
Yes. Carla was laughing, but not the funny kind of laugh. It was more like the WTF kind of laugh it turns out. There’s a difference. Der.
Karen then rehashed all the stories that Drita was spreading around town bragging that she had slammed Karen so hard during the second roof top throw down that she put her in the hospital.
Not true. But Karen hates Drita and Carla likes Drita and Carla hates Ramona and Karen likes Ramona. And Karen really hates Drita. Did we mention that?
Then it got nasty.
Naaaaaasty.
As the two got up in each other’s face, Karen made it very clear what Drita could do to her at Herald Square.
Right in front of Macy’s.
Macy’s.
Where The Wiggle’s perform during the Thanksgiving Parade.
Right where the Hello Kitty balloon goes by.
Between the (bleeps) and the (bleepin’) the gist of it was pretty (bleepin’) clear. Very clear.
And very gynecological.
Poor Macy’s. Like their stock didn’t already take a hit this Holiday Season.
Trust me. You don’t wanna go to war with Karen.
Not unless you bring protective head gear.
And floss.
As waiters scurried behind the girls like a scene from Pixar’s Ratatouille, Karen and Carla took the fighting from the table to the bar in a seamless transition of swearing and eye rolling.
(Side note…did you see the bartender scrambling on the phone behind the bar? “What’s the number for 911? Anyone?” Classic.)
Just when it looked like it was going to go all Western Saloon, they calmed down, had a shot and called a truce.
For Macy’s sake, I hope so.
