You know we’re trying to eat here, right Teresa?
My retinas are burning.
I’ll Punta Princess Punt you right back to Jersey.
If the only requirements for staying in a million dollar Punta Cana villa are to be flat a** broke, wear designer clothes and be a certified Nutwad…well, then sign me up please.
I’ve got at least two of the things on that list already checked off (some friends would say I could cover all three…) and I can be packed in under 20 minutes.
So not fair. Teresa and The Real Housewives of New Jersey just rolled out of bed (or got shaken, wobbled and dragged, as is always the case with Joe Giudice…) and found themselves in yet another Caribbean Paradise, again all on Bravo TV’s dime.
Whereas most families in crisis would either go into private therapy or at the very least, try a quiet lunch at Olive Garden for starters, the Jersey crew packed up all their thongs, SPF 25 pizza oil and dysfunction into matching leopard bags and headed to the Dominican Republic to try and recapture the innocence of their youth. Back in the day, when there was less of both Jabba Joe’s stomach and Teresa’s hair to go around, I guess they all got along swimmingly and they were hoping that by revisiting the same expensive tropical paradise where they used to romp around they would be able to start the healing process. Something tells me that the Bravo producers were not crossing their fingers hoping for one big group hug.
Lucky for us, even the packing process is drama. Melissa and Joe Gorga can somehow make even the simple process of folding tank tops seem nasty, since BroJoe’s horny switch is broken and stuck in the up position. Always one to set a good example for their young children, Joe stuffs a few kids into suitcases for laughs and then dumps them out on the floor. Since this season began, I have yet to see little baby boy Gorga ever make it onto furniture. Mark my words he’ll be in junior high before he knows how to sit upright. It’s got to be a Jersey thing.
Melissa’s mom drew the short straw and has to babysit any of the surviving kids who made it out alive after being sealed inside their Samsonite coffins. In the first of many uncomfortable moments, Joe grabs a handful of Melissa’s bikini from the suitcase and sniffs out the crotch in front of his Mother-in-law. I think she had one of those strokes that you don’t know you had until you go to tie your shoes later. If there was any empty suitcase left over when they were done packing, Mom should just shove those kids back inside and run. Fast.
Packing at Casa de Giudice was no different than any other day. Jabba Joe was a tool, Teresa was over accessorizing and the kids were on cranky auto-pilot. After GiaSeeYaGonnaRunAway’s heart breaking, off key rap song at her sister’s birthday party, you would think that as a parent Teresa might want to stick around for a few days and make sure the little tyke doesn’t stick her head in the microwave. But no..white sandy beaches trump a child’s cry for help any day.
Sticking kids in luggage seems to have taken over the first place spot from that youtube planking craze, because even the Giudettes were trying it. In a few years when they grow up and realize what their lives have truly become, this talent might actually come in pretty handy as they try to sneak over the border and escape before Jabba Joe slobbers out of bed.
Jacqueline packed alot of beach cover ups while routinely singing her insecurity song about body image and inferiority, all while being accompanied by yet another baby on the floor.
Down the street, Cousin Kathy packed way too many suitcases full of not much more than bathing suits and husband Richie’s fashion forward eye wear. On the way out the door, Richie casually mentioned to his teeny bopper son that Mom and Dad would be “doing it” every night. The kid pretty much broke out in acne on the spot. And did I mention that the Mother-in-law was also there, having the same tie your shoe stroke that Melissa’s mom just had? Hopefully they can be roommates in ICU.
After a pretty uneventful flight, thanks to Air Marshals and not much on board liquor, they all made it to the beach. The only thing that didn’t make it was one of Teresa’s bags. It was supposedly full of jewelry that could have made them some serious bank during the next yard sale. For the entire convoy drive to the Villa (seriously…President Obama travels with fewer black Escalades…) she whined about her missing bag. The only break in the complaining came when all 17 cars had to pull over so the boys could all take a Jersey wee on the side of the road like meerkats scattering towards their holes. If America is not at war with Punta Cana by the time these cannolis fly back home I’ll be very surprised.
Bravo has stuck them all in some pretty sweet digs, complete with 24 hour concierges and some dudes that look like Batman butlers in white shorts. The Manzo clan also joined the group, but their luggage and their tans both leave something to be desired so they didn’t get much face time. Manzo Bro #1 and #2 take to their villa like the first day of taping MTV’s Real World, and go frat house spaz over which room they are going to sleep in for the trip. Sister Lauren is here too, as well as Bravo token gay boy Greg, who wears his hat backwards cuz he’s cool like dat.
Bright and early the next morning during breakfast, they are all subjected to Teresa’s bathing suit fashion show as she tries to decide which one to wear to the beach. Picture eggs benedict in the hot Punta Cana sun and Teresa in a thong, and just leave it at that. Let your imaginations run wild. Take your time.
To make the fashion show even more fun, Caroline has woken up with the world’s most drama filled migraine ever. Ever. A Susan Lucci migraine.
I’m not sure if Bravo was trying to compete with the Prime time Emmy Show being broadcast simultaneously on another station or what, but you would have thought that Mrs. Manzo had just taken a bullet to the face.
“And the award for best supporting actress with a boo boo headache goes to….”
Since Bravo wasn’t going to pay for her ticket and not get some mileage out of her, we had to watch Caroline perform like a mime in a box with no air holes. Take an aspirin, honey.
They finally all scooted to a 3 hour boat tour, where they took the Gilligan’s Island joke I was going to use next. They greased up, grinded on each other while Teresa and Melissa had a photo pose off for the title of Miss Punta Princess, which I guess gets you a crown and the cover of a porno. Little did they realize that Miss Greg had already taken that title the moment he arrived at the villa.
I’m not sure if Greg is slowly building the perfect female in his basement like a gay Baron Frankenstein or if he wants to become the perfect female, but he is most definitely picking all the best parts of each of these women and keeping them in his brain somewhere. He has a crush on Melissa, thinks Kathy is a lady, was scoping out Teresa’s fashion show like an ob/gyn and pretty much ignores Lauren. Something’s up. Or maybe he is just a Bravo intern and trying to figure out the next franchise. More power to him either way.
To finish off the afternoon the gang all sat around in a Jersey style Survivor tribal circle and dished. As suddenly blurted out an episode or two ago, Teresa and Jabba Joe are going to open up a restaurant. Jabba doesn’t know how to open one, or how to get the money, and Teresa barely knows how to cook her mother’s recipes so this should work out just fine for them both. The discussion starts to spiral when Jabba gives a slight jab to Mr. Manzo and his Banquet Hall. Luckily Mr. M spent most of the day on his Blackberry and wasn’t paying a ton of attention. Since Jabba also has no clue on payroll or the hiring process, maybe he should hold onto those suitcases full of border kids and start building his staff.
Kathy, who is slowly becoming the Mistress of the snarky, subtle innuendo, casually mentions that she and Four Eyes are only going to do a catering service, because she can’t be that detached from her kids.
The strong ocean breeze apparently twisted Kathy’s words around enough so that Teresa processed the sentence as a slam against her own mothering skills and then the games began. Loads of filtered flashbacks to fashion shows and fist fights kicked in, and all that good Jerseyliciousness came out. (Not the salon kind…wrong show, people.) Kathy’s ginormous eyes got even more ginormous, Teresa started to act up like she was on the Reunion Show already and Greg almost stood on his chair like he saw a mouse. Finally Jabba Joe was the voice of reason and told Teresa to (bleep) the (bleeping’) shut up and they stormed off like two spoiled kids.
Except I’m not sure they knew where they were going, because they seemed to wander a little before they found the restrooms or wherever they were headed.
Since Teresa is never wrong, she is done with Kathy.
Since the rooms are already paid for, everyone will be back next week for more Punta Phun.
Since my head is too big for my suitcase, I guess I’ll have to watch the action from home. Feel free to join me.
