And two, somewhere on Staten Island there exists a restaurant that serves items like “Lobster Explosion” and “Crazy Mama” and I need to go there like, yesterday.
But on to the real story at hand. Renee Graziano is no longer arch enemies with Karen “The Realest Bitch You Know” Gravano and in fact, they throw around “I love you’s” like nobody’s business. But in order for balance in the mobiverse, Renee has to be mad at someone, and that honor now goes to Drita, who had the nerve to threaten Renee at Carla’s birthday by saying…remind me what she said again, Karen? Drita would like to what?
Something tells me that as sweet as Karen can seem, she is an instigator of the highest degree. Still, she was there for Renee the day of the big mob bust that Renee’s ex, Junior, was arrested in and to Renee, that’s what’s important.
Fortunately for everyone, Junior posted bail and might only face eighteen months in jail. For any other family, this would be devastating. For Renee’s family, it’s but a drop in the federal penitentiary bucket. And it’s also cause to throw a psychic party because why not?
Renee, Karen and Renee’s son AJ all get their cards read by JoAnn of Readings By JoAnn. (By appointment only.)
JoAnn The Psychic is pretty spot on in her assumptions about everyone, telling Karen that she “don’t feel no miracles” when it comes to Sammy The Bull getting out of jail early. JoAnn tells Renee she has an opportunity to look over old relationships and decide who to keep in her life and who to let go of which is all very symbolic to Renee, who feels a need to let go of Junior but just can’t. She also decides that a one-on-one with Drita is necessary.
…But before that can happen, let’s check in on Carla’s delightful son Joseph, who, if he was my mother’s son, would have his mouth washed out with soap by now.
Yes, the off-camera personality calling his sister the worst thing in the world is eight years old. Neither Carla nor her husband Joseph, Sr. can rein in lil’ Jo-Jo, try as they might.
What do you have to say to that, Joseph, Jr.?
So yeah, Carla’s not getting any respect, and something tells me it’s not going to get any better when Joseph, Sr. comes home because Jo-Jo doesn’t listen to anything his father has to say either.
But back to Renee and her relationships. Renee and Drita agree to a sit-down dinner to discuss their fight and surprisingly all goes well. (Probably because of the aforementioned Lobster Explosion and Crazy Mama that was consumed.) Renee tells Drita she doesn’t like being disrespected and she especially doesn’t like being called a…what was it again?
Right, that’s what it was. Karen, that’s right, isn’t it? Drita wanted to—
Ok, yup, that’s what I thought.
Drita explains that that’s just how she gets when she “turns” which, paging Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Drita. And yet despite the fact that the entire conversation between the two women is about how much Drita wanted to bash Renee’s face in at Carla’s party, they still ended up resolving their issues and hugging it out when Renee realizes “My friends aren’t out to get me.”
And since Renee is feeling good about her friends, she goes out for drinks with Karen which ends up being a bad scene, on account of this drunk guy who says the exact wrong thing to Renee.
But he doesn’t stop there. In the course of one night, this guy tries to show Karen pictures of his penis and tells her:
When she rejects him, it gets a little ugly (which, coincidentally is the nickname for his penis).
Renee tells Lil’ Ugly:
To which Lil’ Ugly responds:
Oh, hell no. Renee calls Junior for backup. Shockingly, after Junior arrives and we think he might just go to jail for murdering Lil’ Ugly in front of all the patrons at the Z-1 Lounge, he ends up mediating and convinces Lil’ Ugly to apologize properly to Renee. Probably because Junior clued him about who he was dealing with.
Renee might want to ease herself out of the mob life, but she still enjoy the perks of it, like having guys like this know just who the f— she is. Pretty safe to say that by now, the whole world knows just who the f— she is.