How much am I loving The Real Housewives of New Jersey? Oh so much. I love the fact that these housewives aren’t even trying to dispel any of the common Joisey stereotypes.

The episode opens with Jacqueline trying to get some control over her teenaged daughter who is pulling some pretty crappy grades.

Theresa takes her three daughters shopping and all three of them are totally blinged out. They go a couple times a week. Theresa also wants them all to match, even she and Joe. Something weird is going on with Theresa’s hair. Wig? Weave? I’m not sure but it reminds me of Bobblehead Kim with the bad weave from The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Theresa gets a call about one of her daughters being up for a lead role in a movie with The Rock. She feels really good about putting her daughter into the entertainment business because it makes Theresa the little girl happy. Theresa buys a crapload of stuff for her and her girls and pays cash. I noticed last week that Theresa paid cash for some furniture. Me thinks “big and juicy” Joe must also be running a supa-profitable meth ring because I think only drug dealers (and their wives and mistresses) carry around that much lettuce.

Danielle and Jacqueline have lunch and Danielle immediately informs us that there was an instant connection the minute she met Jacqueline. I think Danielle just separated the nicest and most level headed housewife from the rest of herd and is actually lining up a much needed ally because something tells me she is gonna stir the put, but good, this season. Danielle is eager to become part of the Sopranos Manzo’s inner circle and Jacqueline very tactfully explains that she’ll need to back ‘er down Jackson if she wants them to trust and accept her.

Jacqueline prepares for a birthday party for her son C.J. complete with a petting zoo, pony rides, bounce house, and slide. Her BFF Danielle follows her around as she tries to finish getting everything ready. Danielle tells Jacqueline that her daughter has invited a bunch of kids from school to the party and Danielle asks Jacqueline if she wants her to talk to her daughter. Jacqueline wisely ignores Danielle’s backseat parenting and goes to talk to her daughter herself.

For what it’s worth, my favorite housewife is Jacqueline and my least favorite is Danielle. And where were all the New Jersey husbands? Are Bravo producers tailing them around town in unmarked town cars trying to get a shot of them doing anything? Engaging in crime? Proving they exist?

And guess what I found out? Tommy and Al’s dad was murdered and found stuffed in the trunk of his Lincoln Continental. Don’t ask me how I know (it’s just good investigative journalism folks).

Reunion show:

I had a hard time even looking at the TV screen every time they panned to Danielle and her cold, dead, Voldemort eyes. I told David it looked like her soul had been sucked out of her body and that she was totally creeping me out.

I think it’s worth mentioning that even though I love making fun of the Real Housewives, I’d give one of my organs to be on the show. I don’t care how many Bravo employees I’d have to have wild monkey sex with either. The opportunity to earn 10K every episode for doing things I”m already doing anyway is way too tempting to pass up.

Probably Dave should take my credit card away because I just ordered myself a “Happy Wife, Happy Life” t-shirt from Teresa G’s website. I also threw in a pink baseball cap with “Happy Wife, Happy Life” written in rhinestones (bling, bling!). They should be coming soon.

(Am I right Kirsti Alley – insert photo??)

It was like fate poking me in the belly saying, “Hey chubby, give Dave the other half of your sandwich.

Dave wanted to make a sandwich using the broiler. Even though I knew how this would probably end I tried to walk him through the steps of toasting his sandwich.

Sometime around the fourth of July, Dave usually takes a week off work to spend at home with me and the offspring. Our household instantaneously morphs into a Jimmy Buffet song and I am usually “A Cheeseburger in Paradise” away from falling into a trans fat laden, alcohol flooded abyss where everyone’s treadmill is used exclusively for drying sweaters (okay you all know I don’t actually eat beef but Jimmy does not have any songs about chicken).

this phrase made my blood run cold:

suddenly I need guacamole like I need a heartbeat and Internet access.

I’ve mentioned on this blog that I try not to drink on school nights. But lately, starting with the week of the Kenny Chesney concert and cruising through the Memorial Day weekend, I’ve been averaging 3-4 nights of happy juice.

do. then talk.