AFTER A FULL WEEK OF ANXIETY RIDDEN ANTICIPATION WE GET TO HEAR THE TAGLINES AND….I haven’t been more underwhelmed since the last Barney’s Warehouse Sale. What the fuck? Like for Melissa I was thinking something like “I’ve denied having a nose job, and I will also deny Tarzan as long as I am shacking up in this rental home.” This was a huge disappointment.
So it’s Christmas time in the old swamp land. Faux J-Lo aka Melissa is not ecstatic about her boujie decorations in her seemingly nice rental home. Antonia isn’t pleased either … things could be worse babycakes… you could be Gia right now. Nicole and Ter-es-uh hang out at their parents house #chic and more offensively wear fucking santa hats and drink out of puffy painted wine glasses. This scenario might actually be my version of hell. Oh wait I spoke to soon, no – my version of hell would be spending 20 minutes at Amber Alert’s house. After only being acquainted with Amber for one week, I can guarantee this much is true. A) Her children are going to need intensive psychiatric assistance B) She definitely has invested in the entire Brighton sterling silver jewelry collection C) I would rather eat my childhood dog for a snack then ever be in a burning building with her. She WOULD have a fucking whistle… she’s like the adolescence nazi.
How does Dina stay zen with all those fucking chatchkies everywhere and Lexi has really come out of her awkward stage with flying colors and a very intriguing highlight situation. Now we head over to the good ol Giudice palace for some good ol kosher fun. Did anyone else see the irony in Tre wearing a shirt that read “OOPS”? Yeah girl…fraud is such whoopsie! I don’t give a shit what anyone says, I love Teresa Giudice and I just don’t care who knows it… you heard me. Haters are gonna hate, but I just LOVE LOVE LOVE.
Nicole and Dina have brunch fit for a cougar in a fedora and then we move on to Hitler with a weave (aka Amber’s) home where she is running fire drills and I need to refill my dirty martini just THINKING about how badly I want to punch her in the ovary (which she would probably appreciate given her blatant disdain for children). I am so loving Melissa and Teresa getting along. Plus I call dibs on Melissa’s youngest son in 18 years because he is a totally hott tot. Too much? Whatever.
Some boring shit happens then we join the Gorgas, Giudices and Wakiles for a cousin Christmas dinner, where they exchange weird ass gifts and pretend Juicy isn’t months away from getting his ass ripped apart in prison. Sounds pretty normal to me. Side note: Why can’t Rosie be a housewife? Until next week bitches…