Well, it’s another week in Jersey and you know what that means – foreshadowing of the journey to Napa. Lots of it. If this RV trip isn’t the greatest road trip since The Cannonball Run, I will personally rent an RV of my own to ram through the DIY project that fairy Andy calls the Bravo studio. You’re all invited. I’m not messing around. I’ve always really, really, really wanted an RV anyway. And with that…I bring you the simmering blood feuds of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
Ter and the Brown Smurf are in the car and that can only mean one thing – Ter is driving. They’re going to a vineyard, or perhaps a winery, no one’s too sure. All they know is they’re going to drink Bellinis. “You like ‘em right?” she coaxes the Brown Smurf like a little baby. Well, they get me drunk enough, he concedes.
And on that note, Ter launches into the story of how much she loves Bellinis and therefore must formulate her own for the world to enjoy. And then she came up with the name Fabulini! Like Fabulicious, get it? Illiterate branding. We are then informed that Ter doesn’t like anything that tastes “diet-y”.
Oh, but this is no ordinary made up Teresa word. This one’s for the Skinnygirl brand, and Ter mentions it by name. In a stage whisper to the side of the camera, because that makes it not really her fault if it ends up on TV.
It’s a joke, get it? “Diet-y!” Hahahahahah!
And now she wants to brand herself. Aprons, pastas, pastas in the shape of the letters of her name? “Whatever,” is Brown Smurf’s contribution to the brand. We also learn that Brown Smurf lost his wallet, which was later found in “someone”’s car. Ter wants more detail on this “someone” character, and don’t you?
Instead, we get the Gorgas. Or how about the Bore-gas. They’re sitting in the kitchen where the little boy has obviously been spending a little too much time with Cousin Milania, because he’s trying to beat the crap out of his Midge Dad.
Corte, one of Melissa’s black basement loves comes by for a visit. Midge clears the kids from the room and offers his wife’s lover some cheese that he made himself. The concept alone is gag-worthy.
Me make cheese.
Does this sparkly headwrap make me seem like I’m on on display?
Corte tells Midge that Mel is ready to “move forward” and it’s time to shop for a label and a record deal. Midge immediately declares that he needs no record label.
Corte tries to explain that what with being in construction and all, Midge doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about in the record biz. Midge agrees, but thinks if you’re an entrepreneur with balls you can make anything happen. He decides to start an independent record label, which he is sure will turn into a bidding war. Everyone agrees that they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing and happily proceeds accordingly.
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