Jersey Couture: Clearly I’ve Done Something Bad

Hey there Gasmii! School’s out for the summer and my ass is back to rip on all the reality shows that are so terrible you can’t bear to watch them yourselves. I didn’t pick this show. I’d never even heard of this show when Flipit emailed me and asked me to take it for the season. It had the word “Jersey” in the title, so I knew It was gonna be bad, but I think this may be punishment for taking a break from my recapping duties to do lame grown-up stuff like study and pass all my classes. I’m sorry Flipit! I really am! Please stop doing this to me.

Hop on kids, we’re going on a magic carpet ride through the world of the latest rag-tag gang of orange bitches with big hair all trying to talk over each other. Follow me after the jump. And by jump I mean me possibly jumping off a cliff to avoid watching this rubbish next week.

Maybe I could just stick my head in one of those nice plastic dress bags…

We open in what appears to be a business of sorts. Orange bitches with big hair are all talking over each other in a manner that I assume my closed captioning would translate into –unintelligible talking and laughing–. Even if you pay really close attention and manage to focus all your listening on just one guidette you still find that they’re just saying, “ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh.” They’re also putting away what I assume would be considered pretty dresses if you had a hot date for a prom that was somehow taking place in 1992.

Let’s do the Time Warp again…

The ugly dress store is owned by a mom and her two daughters. They introduce themselves, but who cares about their life stories, really? It’s not like they’re people. I mean… They’re from Jersey for fuck’s sake. People from Jersey don’t have souls, and therefore they don‘t deserve backstories. Their store is called Diane and Co. I was gonna do some fun Photoshop editing to correct the sign to say Diane and Hos, but my desktop is fried and the netbook I’m currently left with has no photo editing software, so here’s a lame unadulterated photo of the sign instead. Feel free to color on your monitors to simulate my amazing Photoshopping skills.

DIY Photoshop

The older sister is the responsible one

Nothing screams responsibility like an identifiable animal print

And the younger sis is Cr-A-Zy

Nothing screams crazy like unidentifiable… Oh never mind

There’s a younger brother and a dad around too. The brother works as a DJ when he’s not in the store, so I hate him already. Dude, you play pre-recorded music in sets and for some reason that I’ll never understand that makes girls basically hand their vaginas to you. My iPod does what you do and it’s not surrounded by a posse of slutty coke-heads 24/7. Ladies, listen up and listen good. DJ-ing is not a “talent.” It’s not a job that should come with groupies and free sex. DJ’s are basically walking mixtapes with an over-inflated sense of entitlement. Yes, they can probably get you into clubs for free, but so can bouncers, and at least with a bouncer you have someone who could move your couch for you or rough up some hooligans. Okay, end rant. DJ’s suck.

Hey there lllllladies. Watch me hit ‘Next’ on my iTunes playlist

There’s some “Blah blah we’re a family and we love each other even though we fight blah blah” while we’re shown clips meant to convey what a fun time it is working in the store. Oh my gosh, that girl-like set of giant orange tits on legs is dancing! At work! You crazy kids with your wacky shenanigans. I wish my family owned an ugly dress store so that I could jiggle my massive fun-bags on the clock. Guess I’ll just have to be a stripper instead.

Living the dream

Hmmm… We have a super annoying theme song which is thankfully very short. Then we’re taken on a tour of what we’re told is the responsible sister’s house. She has an adorable fat baby, and it breaks my heart to know that the poor kid is only a few years away from spray tans Aqua-Net.

Oh no! She’s already fist pumping!

The younger “Crazy” sister went and got all rebellious by moving out of her parents’ house at the tender age of twenty-seven when she wasn’t even married. I know! Shocking! If I’d still lived at home at twenty-seven my parents would have changed the locks for my own good. Jersey people are fucking weird.

Crazy sis is late for work and responsible sis is on the phone yelling at her while mini-guidettes wait in line for prom dresses. The store is putting together a fashion show as a benefit for girls who can’t afford to buy prom dresses. Awesome. Who needs food when you have a dress made entirely of pink sequins. If you can’t afford to eat the dress will look better on you anyway. That’s called the white trash diet, and I was on it through most of my early twenties.

Shut the fuck up about how hungry you are. I made you sparkly!

There’s more yelling that I can’t (and don’t want to) understand. Something about Ma hating the color red. They’re dressing some girl for a wedding, who says something about wanting the dress from Dirty Dancing. Guess she got an invite to that 1992 prom. Responsible sis is screaming about back-fat while mom adjusts the poor customers boobs to a point that would be considered assault in at least 48 states. I couldn’t find a picture of it, and my current computer situation won’t let me do screengrabs, but her hand is under the woman’s dress for a good thirty seconds. Ma! caps it off by doing the booty pop while singing, “Doing the booty pop” over and over. Ohmigod if I were drinking a shot every time I heard “Ma!” while I was watching this show I would already be in an alcoholic coma, which would probably kill far less brain cells than paying attention to this drivel. Next week I’m drinking while recapping.

Meet my co-recapper for the rest of the season

Back at someone’s house the sisters yell-talk to/at/over each other while fat-baby longingly eyes a glass of wine that’s just out of reach of her high-chair. I don’t blame the kid. If there were a glass of booze nearby I’d be doing the same thing.

The next day at the store we meet Gabby, who is apparently a prom dress, according to the lovely caption Oxygen provided for her. Once again, can’t get a screengrab, but it says “Gabby: Prom Dress.” Nice.

Dresses are pulled and tried on in whimsical montage-style. Gabby the prom dress doesn’t like the prom dresses being offered to her, so it’s a long-ass montage. She finally settles on a dress that looks exactly like the carpeting in several of our local Reno casinos. Nothing says classy like casino carpeting. We’re treated to a round of “Go Gabby! Go Gabby!” complete with dance moves I hope I never see again, and a little piece of me dies.

Kinda like this but less tasteful

Crazy sis and dad argue over their job responsibilities while a model walks around in a dress that looks a bit like a used Kleenex from someone’s four day meth bender.

Upside: If she starts her period no one will notice.

The follow up dress is even better. Like someone killed a cheetah, and their weapon of choice was gaudiness. There’s a red dress that’s actually not too bad, and then it’s time for dinner with the whole big crazy loud family. It’s pizza night, because stereotypes exist for a reason and need to supported. Crazy sis gets a call from some guy and the whole family freaks out like she’s twelve-years-old or something. Check out DJ Guido’s super douchey facial hair and try to fight off the urge to punch him in the testes.

Good, now cup your man boob and try to do the math problem I’ve written on the ceiling.

DJ Guido’s facial hair is apparently too important for him to DJ the fashion show, but Ma and Daad berate him until he agrees. Gripping stuff right here. Who the fuck thought this show was a good idea? Oh right, The Oxygen Network. Thanks so much for that Oprah. I’m using “The Secret” to manifest a world in which reality shows that take place in Jersey don’t exist.

Crazy sis and DJ Douche go to check out the stage. I get a brief glimmer of hope for some entertainment coming up when Crazy says that the carpeting on the stage will help with the models, “Not falling down so much.” Please lord, if you don’t already hate me for being a lesbian atheist with a super checkered past, please let at least one of these bitches fall down. People falling down is funny, and I could really use some funny to break up the monotony of the yell-talking. How do these people even know when they’re having an argument? They could compliment each others’ shoes and make it sound like a shouting match.

Back at the shop Responsible is helping a super pregggo woman pick out a dress for her baby shower. Ma! Grabs pregggo’s boobs, and I’m super sad that she doesn’t get shot in the eye with breast-milk. Fat-baby comes to visit the store, and damn that kid is cute. Why are fat babies so adorable? If I ever have a child I’m feeding it straight lard for breakfast so that it can have those adorable chipmunk cheeks. I’m gonna be an awesome parent, clearly.

How could you not want to feed your kid butter after seeing this?

More fashion show crap, more obnoxious noises, more ugly dresses, more Themiki wishing she was typing one-handed because the other hand was busy pouring shots of vodka. Ma! Has yelled “Booty Pop!” at least twenty times already, and we’re only half-way through. Good lord, I thought my mom was embarrassing. At least mine is safely locked up in women’s prison where she can’t yell obnoxious catch-phrases in front of my friends. Thanks penal system!

Rehearsal time! No one falls down, which is deeply disappointing. The girls all look like they got their make-up done in the dark by a seven-year-old stripper with cerebral palsy.

I think the one on the left needs a little more blush

The clusterfuck of garishness is all set to go, and Ma! Still hates red dresses for some reason. I’m sure she mentioned why she was so against them at some point in the show, but it’s so hard to understand what anyone is saying when overgrown oompaa-loompahs are shouting over them. The red dress is the only thing in the whole show that isn’t hideous, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Not ugly enough! Off with its head!

Enough rehearsing! On with the fashion show! Responsible talks about her vision and hard work and blah blah blah. She says she doesn’t care if people like her dresses, because all that matters is that people see them and say, “I have to have that dress!” Umm… I think they would have to like the dresses for them to say that. Maybe she’s not clear on the concept of “Liking” things. Meh. No one falls down and the whole two minute segment devoted to the actual show manages to feel like overkill.

After the show Responsible digs for information on Crazy’s new man-friend. Crazy challenges Responsible and Ma! To find her a guy they like for her to date, which I’m guessing will be our running side-plot for the remainder of the season, and with that this torturous experiment is over until next week.

So what’d everyone think? Did a single person who wasn’t contractually obligated to recap actually watch this show? If so, why??? Join me next week when I’ll be shit-faced and slurring my hatred. Stay classy, kids. Like casino carpeting.