After a week of nursing my son through the flu, I caught it. I’m writing this recap under the influence of a crapload of Nyquil mixed with a medicinal hot toddy. Woohoo!!! I’m apologizing in advance for any major typos. It’s hard to keep track of the keyboard when the room is spinning.
We start this week with my two least favorite hos getting together to talk about their upcoming Atlantic City vacay. You know that Low-Magnon is a fave of the Diva’s because she’s totally willing to overlook her reluctance to touch her fugly naked cat. Of course, I’m not sure that I’d feel comfortable with her wandering around my little critters, but that probably makes me a bigot when it comes to cave people.
The Diva and Low-Magnon have a touching moment of bonding over their disgust at the Nina Van Horn book drama. It’s so hard when other people’s nastiness is forced into the lives of innocent bystanders, and by innocent I mean the viewing audience. Nevertheless, the Diva and Low-Magnon profess their desire to get away from all the drama in hopes of re-grouping and re-centering.
There is a wide range of opinions concerning what constitutes “too short” in dresses worn by women in their thirties or forties. I may be going out on a limb here, but, if a dress is so short that you need your friend to remind you not to bend over lest you “flash your chucky”, it’s too short. Sadly, the Diva doesn’t agree with me and after carefully instructing Low-Magnon to issue the aforementioned reminder happily packs a sleeveless sundress approximately the length of you average baby doll nightie. This would be the point that most of my trusted and caring friends would gently remove the dress from my suitcase and burn it, but, hey, we can’t all be so lucky. And, since, Low-Magnon has plans to wear a bikini made out of dental floss, it’s doubtful that she sees any problem with a now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t chucky dress.
Over at Mama Manzo’s compound the kiddies are busily engaged in perfecting their job skills for the family business.
Lauren’s victim, Bob, is nothing if not a lifelike dummy. After a few rounds of unremmitting savagery. he gives up to terror and pees his pants. Well, maybe not his pants since he doesn’t have any legs. More like his stand.
Mama Manzo likes finesse in her
lieutenents children and she’s not impressed with the sloppy results of the beatdown. But not to worry, Kevin her, ahem, “personal trainer” is coming by.
Why does every mob family have a stupid, geeky, younger son, who you know is going to make a bunch of stupid choices that gets everybody in trouble, before putting a hit out on his older brother so he can take control of the family. Seriously, it’s all so cliche.
On the other hand, Lauren may not be the brightest bulb on the planet, but she can kick some serious ass. After delivering a non-stop 3 minute beat down to the dummy she cooly waltzes out of the room, leaving her mother to seriously reconsider that whole beauty school career.
The Diva describes the Water Club as “something different from everything else in Atlantic City thats all overdone and too opulent”.
Jacqueline has opted out of the trip to avoid being hassled by the Diva over her friendship with Nina, which is kind of sad. Seriously, when your sister-in-law decides it’s more fun to stay at home rather than go on an expense paid vacay courtesy of Bravo because you’re being too much of a bitch, it might be time to increase your Anti-Ds.
For her part, The Diva is still insisting that she had no part in the whole book drama. After all she only discussed the book with close friends and family, while she was being filmed for national TV. But, hey, why split hairs?
At the risk of continuing to sound like a bigot, I have to say that it must take a lot of effort to make a cavewoman look high-fashion. So, I totally understand why Low-Magnon feels that it’s necessary to bring along several boutiques worth of clothes. What I don’t understand is how she ended up with this outfit.
The one thing every mother wants to hear on a girl’s weekend away is the sound of her beloved children screaming her name. It’s especially hard for Low-Magnon because she’s not there to start counting out hundreds to slap into her daughter’s grubby little fist. And, when you’re used to the feel of cold hard cash, bribes of new teddy bears, dresses or bikes just aren’t the same.
This week we get to see the results of Ashley’s summer school tests and thank God her scores are all good. You go girl!! Ashley wants a car for her grades. I’m thinking more along the lines of an ice cream sunday, but that’s just my family. We place a lot of value on ice cream. Jacqueline doesn’t deny all hope for the car, but she doesn’t offer her any ice cream either. Instead, she tells Ashley that she’s on the right path and then tells us that the car her husband bought for Ashley is hidden in a warehouse. I totally hope Ashley pulls it out this summer. Otherwise, if she’s watching these episodes without a car and finds out that there was one tucked away in a warehouse, she’s likely to go ballistic and blow that family to hell and back.
Oh, for God’s sake. Does everything with Nina have to be pathetic and sad? I’m telling you, after all those years of watching Just Shoot Me, I expect more from this woman!!
Sadly, it’s Nina’s birthday. The old Nina would have totally guilted everyone around her into throwing her a fabulous champagne glitzed bash with a thong clad man jumping out of the cake, except that he would have turned out to be David Spade. The new Nina mopes around her apartment and gratefully accepts the giant balloons and toy elephant that a PA hands her youngest daughter to give her. Even worse, Nina shares that she hasn’t celebrated her birthday publically for seven years except for crying. For the love of God, can’t the Bravo casting department find this woman a few friends? Seriously, MTV found Heidi an entire wedding party. Even wimpy Jacqueline is nowhere to be seen. Nina explains that a lot has changed since the discovery of “The Book”. I bet this is how Lindsay Lohan felt when Sam banned her from her party and then tried to break off all contact. There’s very few text messages; very few phone calls; and they’re not seeing each other very much, unless Nina goes to the trouble of stalking Jacqueline across town and begging to spend the night.
While Nina mopes around during the most depressing birthday ever (seriously, I really hope that the PAs at least bought the woman a cake) the Queens of Mean are out shopping in AC. The Diva tells us sweetly that Low-Magnon “is really the jewelry whore out of the group.” Who knows maybe someone told her that diamonds would totally distract from the whole prehistoric hairline forehead issues.
Being a practical minded wench The Diva is attempting a little Manzo PR damage control. She’s brought along an outsider for the weekend to prove what a warm friendly group of women they really are. Mama Manzo seems to be having a little trouble grasping the whole “warm and welcoming” concept, but you have to give her points for trying. After all, she hasn’t tossed the woman out of the hotel window, instead she grudgingly admits that the new girl “didn’t giver her any reason to dislike her”, and you can be damn sure Mama was looking for one.
Whatever you think of Mama Manzo, unless you’re older than God, you’re probably not going to think of her as a sex kitten. Personally, I could totally do without the image of Mama prancing around with giant bubbies a flippin and a floppin in a skimpy bra.
Low-Magnon has come to a life changing realization; she wants bubbies and she wants them now!! Sadly, the Juice is more of an assman, as in he has absolutely no interest in bubbies. What a fricking surprise. It’s hard to be interested in much of anything when you’re stuffed so far back into the closet that piles of towels keep falling on your head and you keep bumping into the picture of Twunty’s grandmother. While Low-Magnon is fantasizing about putting on lingerie shows for her husband and adding a stripper pole to their bedroom, I’m guessing that he’s trying to come up with excuses to take some private dancing lessons.
It’s time for everybody’s favorite; another segment of “Lets humiliate Ashley”. This week Jacqueline and the producers are taking Ashley out of the house and sticking her in a photo shoot. After all, taking a girl who’s totally insecure and putting her in front of a camera, while she’s being filmed on National TV, has always been a sure fire formula to invoke breakdowns on ANTM. Just to make sure that Ashley is completely self-conscious, Jacqueline makes sure to tell the photog that they’re trying to boost Ashley’s self esteem.
Considering that Ashley has zero self-confidence and her mother keeps demanding to know why she doesn’t feel comfortable or beautiful while she’s trying to pose, Ashley doesn’t do too badly. That is until she throws a hissy fit and runs off to find a room where she can curse her mother out in private. Or what would be in private if those pesky cameramen didn’t insist on following her.
Ashley really does not like the pictures, which is awkward for everybody. After all, the photographer probably gave Jacqueline the photo session for free, or at least a major discount, in exchange for free publicity. There’s no way that this is going to be good advertising. I’m telling you, Jerry Springer has nothing on Bravo. A mother putting her daughter into a headlock. A daughter punching her mother in her silicone inflated bubbies. These housewives have it all. Forget their mother/daughter portrait, Jacqueline and Ashley will have the tape to treasure forever. All we need now is for Dr. Phil to move into the neighborhood.
Back in Atlantic City, Low-Magnon is doing her feeble best to choose a bikini from her pile of choices. In awe of Low Magnon’s natural, carefree joie de vivre, the Diva tells us that she wishes she could have Theresa’s brain for one day so she too could experience a stress free existence.
Finally having managed to select a bikini, Low-Magnon and the ladies head down to the pool to encourage a little skin cancer and bare their bods for the camera. All is peaceful until Low-Magnon receives a call from Shvitzy Steve. I might be wrong, but I’m guessing that Steve was probably shvitzing pretty hard when he saw this episode, cuz you know Nina is going to be PISSED! A dirty conscience will do that to you. Steve want’s to bring a girl, other than Nina, to Theresa’ shorehouse for the weekend. But what about Nina? Low-Magnon asks in a thrilled voice. Oh, yeah, Shvitzy Steve is still seeing Nina, but, for now, he’s told her that he’s going to be hanging out with his friend Tony for the weekend. Amazingly, none of these women have any issue with Shvitzy Steve’s acting like a douchebag. Somehow, in their twisted, pea-sized brains this is just another example of Nina forcing her drama into their innocent little lives.
Well baked on both sides, the ladies go hunting for some meat to consume. I’m guessing that they like it red, bloody and preferably killed tableside. The thoughts of savage butchery make the Diva all teary eyed and nostalgic for the carefree days of her youth when she had time to hang out with her girlfriends, and she confesses that she’s considering quitting her work. I suspect this is supposed to be a meaningful moment in the Diva’s plotline, but I’m way too distracted by her new friend Bianca’s face to pay much attention.
I’m guessing that Shvitzy Steve totally blew it on Nina’s birthday because they’re doing a sit down at a beat up diner, and that’s never good. Sure enough, Nina pulls out the old, “Um, Um You know, I like adore you.” Yeah, yeah. Shvitzy Steve knows that. In his shiny little mind he’s God’s gift to women everywhere. Kind of like a holy studmuffin. Nina ploughs ahead with her “it’s not you, it’s me” shpiel. Then in an awesome move totally calculated to shrivel his schnitzel she plays the age card, reminding him that his mother is probably as old as she is. Steve looks fairly blase about the whole thing. I’m guessing that his only concern is whether the diner is too seedy to convince her to have a little bathroom breakup sex.
The editors take the opportunity to show us a clip of Low-Magnon delivering her well considered opinion that Steve was only in the “relationship” for the sex. I’m shocked, simply shocked that any friend of the Juice would be such an asshat. Nina, being above all else a complete wingnut drama queen, starts tearing up at the thought of the beautiful relationship she just torched, and looks fleetingly around for a semi-sanitary bathroom. Steve tells her that he doesn’t want her to be upset and he’s sure that a goodbye BJ would fix everything, but, sadly for him, Nina has her standards and the diner ain’t cutting it.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that Lexi survived her trip to Greece with nary a disease or kidnapping incident to show for it. She was in fact bored. Too bad, prison would have been much more exciting. Of course, Lexi did get to shop. A lot. We’re talking a whole bag of new stuff: tennis shoes, flip flops, sandals for Bar Mitzvahs (?)…Hold on I have to replay that. That’s a major shrug, WTF, mystery in life. I’m not saying Lexi doesn’t go to the occasional bar mitzvah, but so many that she has to buy shoes specifically for them? Good Lord, I wonder if I have any relatives in Jersey, with bar/bat mitzvah aged kids? Anyway, moving on to more self-explanatory purchases: a t-shirt for her mother proclaiming her to be a ‘shoe whore’. Awesome. And, finally, a ladybug costume for the fugly, naked cat. I think it’s safe to say that this cat truly HATES mankind.
Friday night for Low Magnon’s family means dinner out. I sure as hell hope that the Juice starts slapping down those hundreds when he leaves a tip, because you know these little darlings are going to be a major pain in the tuchus. Sure enough the two youngest are screaming their tiny little heads off. I am so glad I’m not in that restaurant. Neither the Juice nor his wife seem too perturbed by the noise, but they have more important things to talk about. Utilizing those parenting techiniques derived from generations of living in caves, Low-Magnon instructs her daughters to close their ears so they can’t hear their parent’s private conversation. After all, there’s not a lot of privacy in a cave other than asking people to turn their backs to you and/or cover their ears. I hear inmates in crowded prisons respect similar conventions. Low-Magnon and the Juices’ “private conversation” involves Low-Magnon’s desire for shiny, new bubbies. Not surprisingly, the Juice is completely indifferent to bubbies. Seriously, I’ve known gay men, who’ve been out of the closet for years, that show a greater interest in female anatomy. The Juice tells Low Magnon that if bubbies mattered to him, he wouldn’t have married her, which should be uncomfortable on several levels. Luckily, Low-Magnon isn’t the sort to overanalyze statements, because that would involve difficult activities like thinking. Instead, she delivers her decision to go ahead and buy herself some bags of silicone or saline to balance out her derriere. The Juice shrugs fatalistically, shoves some more food into his mouth, and repeats his zen like mantra, “Happy wife, happy life.”
With the Juice solidly behind her, so to speak, Low-Magnon gathers the other househos, sans Nina, and heads off to visit the latest plastic surgeon intent on whoring himself out to reality TV.
It turns out, as if there was ever any doubt, that both the Diva and Jacqueline owe their overabundance of boobage to silicone. Mama Manzo, on the other hand, owes her giant Gs to divine intervention; clearly a sign that she was destined to be the head bitch in this family.
Low magnon carefully weighs the question of silicone versus saline, ever mindful of the Diva’s warning that “when you go too big, there’s a fine line between tasteful and tacky.” Personally, I’m relieved that “tacky” has a place in the Diva’s vocabulary. However, I suspect that her definition of tacky might be slightly narrower than the norm.
Always helpful, Jacqueline pops some sample implants down her shirt and invites Low-Magnon to cop a feel, which totally makes the doc feel uncomfortable. With all semblance of a professional consult destroyed, I’m pretty sure he’s wondering if he can sneak a few minutes alone with the laughing gas.
The doctor would have totally perked up if he had known that Low-Magnon thought he was pretty cute. And it’s a damn good thing that she did. After all, there’s no way in hell that Low-Magnon would let an ugly guy touch her body.
Nina Van Whore is calling her daughters together for a family meeting because Nina believes in being honest with her kids. Cool Beans!! We’re talking super honest. I’m guessing the kind of honesty that nobody really appreciates. Nina tells her daughters that she broke it off with Steve, but that he still wants to be a part of their lives. Personally, I’d be a tad bit concerned about this. After all, Nina’s oldest, Christine, is definitely a looker and she’s a lot closer in age to Shvitzy Steve than Nina is. Of course, Nina has a whole list of guys whom she dated in the past who broke the same heartfelt promise to stay in touch with her daughters. Probably because they figured out that the whole daughter issue was just another way for Nina to guilt them into paying attention to her life. Christine has heard the whole shpiel before and she’s got a solid grip on the situation. All those guys who date Nina, they’re really after one thing; “the goodies”.
I may have underestimated the Juice. He’s actually fairly poetic. I mean how many husbands would think to tell their wives that they’re “going from having nipples to having boobs” as they drive them to surgery. Buoyed by the thought of enlarged mammary glands, Low Magnon asks her husband if he’s finally going to want her to try on lingerie for him. Awkward. The Juice sighs, that painful sigh of a man trapped in a closet with a sexually demanding wife, and asks, “What’s the point of putting it on?” Low-magnon looks confused and asks doubtfully, “Freeplay? Or what’s it called? Foreplay?” Okay, for the sake of clarification “freeplay” is more along the lines of a stripper giving a VIP a complimentary lapdance. On the other hand, foreplay is something she’s not likely to get as long as she’s married to someone who prefers flat, hairy, and male.
Resigned to the inevitable transformation of his wife from a low-browed, hairy, flat-chested ho to a low-browed, hairy, boobalicious ho, the Juice good-naturedly encourages her to get full C cups. Mainly, he doesn’t want to have to pay for new implants, which leads to his main question for the doctor; Are the new bubbies going to shrink over time, like if she takes a bath and then sits in a sauna?
Mercifully, Bravo spares us the details of the surgery. We go from seeing Low-Magnon trying to count, which is probably not much different from when she’s not high on laughing gas, to her moaning “Ow ow ow.” Low-Magnon has my complete sympathy it’s got to be painful to squeeze the pain of puberty into an hour of surgery.
The Juice greets his wife in the recovery room with a giant bouquet of roses, which is pretty sweet. Unfortunately, Low-Magnon isn’t really interested in the roses, she wants to know how she looks. The Juice shrugs and says, “it looks like you got something there.” I never thought I’d say this, but I’m feeling a little bad for the Juice. It sounds like Low Magnon is determined to get her share of
freeplay foreplay out of him. If he doesn’t want her in lingerie, he can damn well wear it himself, while he’s nursing her. Please God, let those pics of the Juice wearing a thong get leaked to the internet in time for J-Mo’s birthday.
Mama Manzo’s security detail must be slipping because Jacqueline has managed to escape long enough to take Nina to lunch for her birthday. She’s careful to tell us that she’s not making a choice between family and friends; she’s just doing what she thinks is right. It’s a nice effort, but I don’t think it’s going to do much to placate the Diva when she sees this clip. Nina is as always pathologically optimistic about this friendship. Instead of keeping her mouth shut, she starts dissing the Diva, which sends Jacqueline into a mini panic attack. Drowning her sorrows in alcohol, Jacqueline does her feeble best to explain that she can’t be listening to bad things about the Diva because the Diva is family and the family owns Jacqueline. Body and soul.
Well, Gasmi, thats it for this week. I’m going to crawl back into my bed, chug a bottle of Nyquil, and listen to my head make squishy noises until I fall asleep.