Real life drama (not the semi-scripted, Bravo kind) has been clouding the line between real and reality television throughout this season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Several police reports have been filed that promise a season rivaling the table tipping antics of last year (including assault charges against Jacqueline’s daughter — Ashley — for ripping Danielle’s weave out), Teresa and her juiced up gorilla husband are $11 million in debt, and today brought us stills from a Danielle Staub sex-tape that simply can’t be unseen. Trust me, if you haven’t looked, don’t. Suddenly Ashley’s quip in last night’s episode about Danielle’s square boobs is not only funny but vomit-inducingly true.
But while the drama is ripe off the screen, it’s still there — if to a lesser degree — on the screen. In this episode: more fallout from the Brownstone debacle. The ladies chomp on and on about how they’re tired of talking about Danielle, they wish they could just forget about Danielle, blah, blah. This is confusing to me since they spend, literally, the entire episode talking about the walking billboard against breast augmentation. Don’t get me wrong, I love gossiping. It brings me back to the days of yore when all I had to worry about were pep rallies and Prom night and that whore Christine who was always trying to steal my boyfriend. But I stop myself these days, because I’m ten years removed from high school and being bitter is not cute. These women, apparently never got the memo; their BS is so high school I feel like I’m sprouting a zit.
The action centers around drama that no adult in their right mind would mutter aloud: a Facebook and texting war. See, in the grownup world even if the conflict is legit, even if what happened in the confines of a social network or in your Blackberry is some serious I want to punch your lights out shit, you can’t say the words, “And then she did X to me on Facebook” without fear of the room shaking their head in dismay. Again, these ladies have no issue reverting to places that the rest of us have run from for a long time. To be fair, half of the participants in the text/Facebook “war” (yes, they refer to it as a war—Happy Memorial Day!) are kids. Ashley rears her mini-Jacqueline head again and sends Danielle a text that she should get out of her family’s life. She ends it by saying, “Bye Bitch”. Danielle, being the completely sane human being that she is, interprets this as a death threat. It’s probably perfectly reasonable considering Ashley’s “terroristic” moves in the past, moves like creating a “I Hate Danielle Staub” group on Facebook. Ashley notes that there are 2,000 people in the group and that makes me kind of sad for the state of everyone really. It even makes me a little sad for Danielle because, I mean, HATE is a pretty strong word and I can’t even imagine how I would feel if that many people said that they hated me. I stop feeling sorry for her when it’s revealed that she sent Ashley a message calling her fat. A 40+ woman sent a girl a message telling her to “drop some weight”. If nothing else before all of this made me want to give this woman the stink eye, this did it in for me.
So, Jacqueline and Teresa go to lunch and tell Ashley to meet them there so that they can discuss the rumors buzzing around town about all of this dramz. In a move as stunningly mature as any I’ve seen on this show so far, the adults counsel Ashley to cut off all contact with Danielle. It’s making her look “trashy.” She’s playing down to Danielle’s level. It’s a deft recovery in parenting for both women who just last week got drunk in the middle of the afternoon to the point of sloppiness and allowed a 3-year-old to ride an ATV without a helmet. But, in the grand tradition of teenagers making bad decisions, Ashley makes her status on Facebook something about Danielle wanting to get a warrant out for her arrest. Her mother screams at her, she rolls her eyes and I do too. I feel like I have enough Facebook in my life without this show adding to the madness.
Meanwhile in Danielle land, the lady of the hour decides to take her ex-con bodyguard Danny to a suit store to get some new duds. The logic here is that Danielle’s only friend, Kim G., has taken issue with the eye and ear sore that is everyone’s favorite hit man, so she’s going to prove her wrong by slapping a suit jacket on him and reminiscing about their time in the clink. What’s that derivative colloquialism? You can’t turn a ho into a housewife?
The Manzo’s have a family dinner where they gossip about the Facebook war and a food fight breaks out and everyone gets called into the principal. An interesting point is brought up here. When classy Danny called Chris the f-word multiple times, Danielle—the world’s most vocal gay advocate — wasn’t so vocal. Teresa ruins the moment of public discourse by defending her husband’s use of the slur “gay” which is totally better than the slur “F------“. Sigh.
We end the episode with a showdown between Dina and Danielle. Dina wants to tell Danielle once and for all that she wants nothing to do with her and Danielle delusionally thinks that Dina wants to apologize for “her part” in the hell she’s been put through. Dina proves to be all class and boobs at their meeting (was it necessary for her to actually physically meet with Danielle? I’m not so sure but my boyfriend is adamant that it’s because she’s “classy”. I think maybe the boobs and class come as a packaged deal for him and he’s enamored). There’s some infighting, Danielle tries to talk over Dina, Dina sticks out her fish lips like only a Manzo can and we get a “To Be Continued” at the bottom of the screen as Dina walks out the door. The only problem? Danielle brought along muscle Danny as “protection” and he’s sitting in the parking lot waiting for Danielle’s command with his “phone on his lap.” Maybe I’m being a little paranoid in thinking that the ex-convict who has threatened violence against the Manzo’s on many occasions would actually hurt Dina but I’m a little frightened for the next episode. Maybe arguments are best fought in the safety on the Facebook world.
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