Living in a Grenade Free America

Hello readers... I tried, I really did. But the problem is that when I watch the Housewives or America's Next Top Date Rapist it's always at least 15% ironically. I think you need true love to create true inspiration. And say what you want about those eight orange mooks, but I love them. It's an easy love. It's not romantic love, I don't need them to love me back, but I know that no matter what they do, they'll always have a place in my heart. I refrained from writing about the first episode due to a combination of intense blackout and the feeling that any asshole editor could piece together a great opening episode... the real question is whether the second episode was gold. I learned a lesson. Always put faith in those without sleeves. You will be rewarded. Like Lebron James... let's take our talents to South Beach.

Unfortunately, even a Grenade Free America is not an egalitarian society. There are tiers of guidos. Starting 4: Sitch, DJ Pauly Delvecchio, Snickers, and (marginally) JWOWW. Genius idea by the producers to only have these four road trip down to Miami. This way, they didn't have to give equal screen time to the B squad. It's easy to see how you play your way onto the bench. The easiest is to leave the show... hello again miss Angelina. More on her later. You can bore everyone to death... ladies and gentlemen, Vinny (I still love Vinny... but bro, how do you not do a cycle over the winter. It's like Kobe developing a low post game over the offseason. Bigger, faster, stronger.) Or, you can get into one of the worst TV relationships of all time. At some point Ronnie and Sammie crossed the line from slow moving trainwreck (something everyone wants to watch) to slow moving beheading (something only sick people, such as myself wants to partake in). I think it might of been when he cried those 1 or 2 or 57,345 times, or when she had a nervous breakdown over her toe, or when she choked him out with her hair extensions and he shit himself a little. (The last one will appear in the outtakes DVD, I swear.)

Back to Angelina though... honestly, how the fuck did she think this was gonna go? Take 3 immature girls, give them a common enemy... and this is exactly what you get. My favorite part about the entire dispute is that they were so fucked up in the cab when JWOWW was threatening to take it outside that I was convinced that they were on the way back from the club instead of on the way there. But this did create an interesting dynamic involving Angelina hanging out with two guys that she slept with before... until she told Pauly she loved him and subsequently slapped him in the face two seconds later. I've heard talks that she left the house again... I've purposely left it a surprise for myself but I would put the over/under at episode three. Lunatic.

And to The Situation, I know you're all about the tag lines since GTL took off so nicely, but I think you're stretching. GFA... amazing. It's a place I want to live. I picture people in East Berlin chanting GFA as the wall came down. But land mine? Seriously? Not one of the five people I watched the opener with understood what the fuck that meant. It took a girl who was a former Israeli soldier drawing a diagram of a land mine and then turning it sideways to make it clear that from some angles, it was, in fact, a skinny grenade.

Ronnie and Sammi... what can I say? I appreciated Ronnie burning some calories trying to get in with the boys again. But it wasn't even the end of the second episode and they're "working on things." Fuck. How stupid can you be. You attract so much pussy with your weird little midget dance and once again, you're throwing it away on a girl who went through your phone book WHEN YOU'VE BEEN BROKEN UP SINCE NEW YEAR'S. At this point though Ron Ron, fuck you. You deserve everything you get. Ohhhh... she sat with you for three hours while you got the world's blackest tattoo ever to be placed on a white man? And because of this, you think she's there for you? Again, FUCK YOU you stupid mook. Anyone past the age of eight can sit somewhere for three hours. It's not an acquired skill even for the dumbest fucking guido bitch on the planet. She's not any less batshit crazy, SHE'S JUST SITTING STILL.

Ugh... I'm spent for now. Check in next week and we'll really get into it. And if you're in the NYC area come see me at Caroline's on August 9th at 7:30. I'd put the address there, but if you're not smart enough to use Google Maps, I really don't want you at the show. Next week, we'll pick a topic and really tear into it. This was just pure, overflowing wop dago joy. Peace.