Wednesday, June 29, 2011 This video will haunt you for HOURS, but you must watch it. Not only to see the Countess look like even more of an asshole (I know, I didn't think is was possible either!), but Jill. Oh God. JILL.
via Jezebel
Wednesday, June 22, 2011 Please welcome one of my favorite people to the blog, my friend Edie, aka Mommy E (her street name). You may remember her from the blogs I Could Kill Her and Miss In Your Business--RIP to them both, as they have passed on to internet heaven. Edie and I share many interests, including frozen Milky Ways, Marky Mark, and now the Real Housewives of New Jersey. This is her position statement on Caroline Manzo. Read it, consider it, and then LET'S GET IT ON in the comments.
Caroline Manzo is a bad mother – there…I said it!
I have this theory about women who constantly find subtle and not so subtle ways to let people know that they are amazing mothers: these women are always TERRIBLE MOTHERS!!
Example: Pamela Anderson – in almost every interview, Pam redundantly describes what a “normal mother” she is and how she’s so busy bringing orange slices to her kids’ soccer games, she hardly has any time to notice the various magazine articles describing her as a skank, ho, etc. Pam makes a huge point of telling everyone who will listen that she’s this amazing mom. That mommyhood is all that matters. That her boys come first. That her kitchen is stocked with organic, gluten-free, soy popsicles. That she’s turning down Oscar-potential gig after gig in order to be there for parent-teacher conferences, “volunteer work” at the school, and carpool.
And I totally start buying into it.
And then I see this
And then I snap the hell out of it.
I feel the same way about Caroline Manzo. She’s a blowhard mom. Caroline spends all her on-air time trying to convince us viewers that she’s such an amazing mother. That it’s all about “the children.”
Yeah, not so much says this Jew.
Caroline perfectly exemplifies my theory. A few examples:
The “cozy Sunday family cooking episode”: Was I the only watching who thought to myself “this woman HATES black people!” The obvious animosity/superiority/judgment she displayed while discussing their “experiment” with very unusual food such as fried chicken.
Can you imagine the show that would go down if her (not very) precious Lauren brought a black man home? It would be like Jungle Fever II! And selfishly, that is some shit I’d like to see on the television. Come on Lauren, do us all a favor and bring home some flavor.
And speaking of Lauren: let’s just hope that the girl doesn’t end up on the pole in five years because clearly her momma loves her brothers a hell of a lot more than she loves her.
The borderline inappropriate love of son Albie? Um, I’m sure Albie is a great guy and everything but come on…creepy. And the fact that they’re not disclosing why he got kicked out of law school…it makes me feel like how I feel when I read a young person’s obituary: I firmly believe that if you want an obituary of a young person printed in the newspaper, you should be required to disclose the cause of death. How dare you leave me wondering!
Obviously Caroline got a chance to see what an angry, violent, bully we all saw her to be last season so this season she’s trying to be all “I’m not getting involved…this is not my battle…take it out of my house ladies” (yeah, not your house…your husband’s catering building)
Oh Puleassse…. We know you Caroline. Stop frontin’ and trying to appear like some educated, well-respected, fancy lady.
You’re ghetto and you know it. But not the good kind of ghetto.
Sincerely,
Mommy E
Thursday, June 16, 2011 When you're cleaning your bathroom, do you ever think of Joe Gorga?
Do you ever think, as you scrub your toilet, that he's kind of attractive? Like, in a primal, hairy, dangerous caveman way? Take, for example, his eyes. They're not ugly. No. Not at all. Some people might say they reflect a double-digit IQ, but then privately, to themselves, might admit that they are brooding and a tiny bit sexy. I bet these same people, while wiping down the mirror, might even let their minds wander and imagine Melissa getting into an accident. A tragic, sad accident in which she trips over a pot of risotto or a tangle of spandex leopard print dresses, and cracks her head on the piano. She wouldn't die--Antony would be there to call 911--but there would be brain damage. A cranial hemorrhage that would leave her with massive weight gain, a moustache and the personality of an angry camel who has to carry entitled Americans around the desert. Of course this transformation would happen anyway in about 20 years, but this terrible accident cruelly accelerates the process.
She also has the worst B.O. (think rancid meatballs) from all of her medications. The mere thought of having sex with his wife makes Joe gag and sometimes dry heave. And Joe needs sex. Oh, HE NEEDS IT. One night he decides he can't take it any more. He leaves the kids with his mom and Melissa with her sisters and just starts driving. No doubt in some gross car, probably a custom orange Hummer with all sorts of shit dangling from the rearview mirror. He has no destination in mind. He just needs to get away and clear his head. Sort things out.
He drives and he drives, not even really sleeping but taking catnaps at rest stops. He is full of restless energy, doing push-ups and guzzling Four Loko when he stops for gas. He beats the crap out of a guy outside of Des Moines for staring at him, but the deep satisfaction he usually feels after kicking someone's ass is absent.
The Hummer starts acting strange as he's passing through suburban Denver, and he just manages to get it in the parking lot of Vitamin Cottage before it dies. He gets out and kicks it furiously. Goddamn car! Letting him down just like everyone else. His wife, his sister, his mother. His father. He begins to weep with frustration and exhaustion. He senses someone is watching him but he doesn't care. He feels so empty. Lost. He wants to be loved. No conditions, no expectations, no moustaches. Just love.
He turns around, big brown eyes still wet, to see a woman looking at him with the kindest eyes he has ever seen. A little wrinkly, but not as bad as Tamra Barney. He watches her glance at her car, where her kids are bucking their seatbelts. She hesitates for a moment and then walks over to him. "Are you..." she begins, and then trails off. As she moves closer to him, he knows he has to have her, that God put her here, at this moment, for him. Wordlessly, he leads her to the back of the Hummer and they make urgent (and a little bit angry) love on a pile of muscle shirts and knit caps, his big hairy paws all over her. With Melissa, he was injecting his poison. With this woman, he is releasing his pain. Holding her in his arms, he feels a peacefulness that he has never known before. The emptiness, the loneliness has vanished.
Suddenly, there is a sharp rap on the back window. "Mom," calls a child's voice. "Are you finished? We're going to be late to soccer practice."
The woman sits up and smiles at him. Her two pregnancies and obvious fried chicken habit are visible in the muffin top that she is trying to tuck into her jeans, but he has never seen anyone more beautiful. As she scootches to the door, he grabs her hand. "What's your name?" he asks. "Who are you?" She shakes her head. His eyes fill with tears as he realizes he will never see her again. "Say hi to Albie for me, will you?" she says with a sad smile. He watches her limp gingerly toward her car.
Two days later, as he heads back to Jersey to face his life with his disgusting and crass family, he knows that he will never forget her. And he doesn't.
So, do you ever think like this? Yeah. Neither do I.
