Ang is on a doctor-prescribed health kick this week, but she’s definitely not happy about it.
Well, she slept off the Patron and finally let Neil move back in, but in Big Ang’s world nothing is ever perfect, because instead of bringing “one or two boxes” over to her place, he’s moving a truckload of crap into her zebra-striped abode.
Having Neil around is like having another kid in the house. “I’m the mother of everybody,” she says. “Jennifer, Neil, my own kids…I CAN’T!”
The Neil move-in is stressing Ang out, so she goes to the doctor for a checkup to make sure she’s not coming down with any husband-related diseases. The nurse’s first order of business is to give Ang a stool card, which isn’t something I’ve had to use before. I imagine it’s a card and you just poop on it and send it back to the doctor, how wrong can I be? This is something Ang has to do in the privacy of her own home though, and she’s as confused as I am.
“How the f— do you mail s—? I don’t get it!”
Ang gets pulled, prodded and probed (and she has balls in her face) and it’s “like a horror show.”
When it finally comes time to sit with the doctor, she explains that she’s never had any heart problems, but she wanted to get a checkup because her friend went to a psychic recently and the psychic predicted she would have a heart attack so boom, here she is. After two episodes we’ve learned that Ang’s biggest life decisions are made with the help of psychics and Patron, and that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.
The doctor, however, is perplexed by her logic.
He tells her her health is okay, it’s just that she’s got to cut down on the drinking and smoking. “Listen, I don’t smoke that much!” she tells the doctor who’s like, “Lady, your voice. Have you HEARD you?” That makes Ang giggle her wheezy smoker’s giggle.
Ang puts herself on a one week cleanse — no booze, no smoking, and plenty of working out. This is going to be fun. Ang starts her cleanse at the gym with her bartender Anthony showing her the ropes. They work on her arms and after squeezing her triceps a few times, she’s already worn out.
Janine comes over to Ang’s place to check on her after her doctor’s visit and sees the tornado of crap that Neil has unloaded in the place. “This place is a dis-gratz!” Janine says looking at the Tupperware upon Tupperware filled with clothes and Neil-things. “I think it’s time for a new house ’cause between me and Neil we’re like two dinosaurs with our heads stickin’ over the roof,” Ang says.
And Ang knows just the house to look at too — she’s had her eye on this place and it’s as big and regal as she is, plus it has a palm tree. In Staten Island! That’s not really indigenous to New York City, but somehow it makes sense.
They drive over to see the place and Ang is smitten. She loves that there’s a “staaaaage!”
There are also huge closets for her thousands of items of clothes, and an outdoor “party place” with a deck, cabana and hot tub.
She already has plans for the Jacuzzi.
“I don’t care what it takes, I gotta live here,” Ang tells the realtor.
Since the gym’s not her style, Ang decides to try tennis, so she brings Lil’ Jen shopping with her to look for new workout clothes. After getting a lecture on why she should actually try yoga from Jen the Yogini, they try on some tennis skirts and rock those short shorts.
Despite her self-imposed no drinking and no smoking rule, Ang still has to work, and when you work at a bar where everyone else is doing what you can’t, it’s tough. “I am SNAPPIN’!” she says, frustrated that everyone else gets to do shots but she can’t. Crazy Linda, terrible influence that she is, shows up to the bar and tells Ang she’ll never make it a full week without drinking and smoking, and she tries to tempt Ang and says this whole health kick is just a phase. Bad Linda! Not helping!
Ang won’t be deterred, she and Jen are still going ahead with their tennis lesson, and they’re totally crushing on their instructor Sergio right from the get-go.
“You look beautiful, therefore you have to play beautiful,” Sergio flirt-teaches. When Ang finally gets a ball over the net, she’s ecstatic.
“She looks like she’s been playin’ tennis as long as she’s been f—in’ smokin’,” Jen says, impressed with Ang’s skills.
“Let’s go tennis!” Ang says.
The final step in Ang’s journey to wellness is getting her insides cleaned out with a colonic.
The speculum gets lubed up and prepares to be inserted into the place where the sun don’t shine (even on tropical, palm-treed Staten Island), and Ang ain’t havin’ it.
“Um, excuuuuuuuse me, I don’t think so. I thought it was gonna be the size of a f—ing straw! That thing was the size of a f—ing microphone!”
“I have a little butt, I need a little one!” she tells the colonic technician who brings out the child size speculum (ew) which still hurts.
Ang concludes “I don’t need no tube in my ass, I need a cigarette in my mouth!” She determines that her butt is “exit only, motherf—ers.”
On day four of her cleanse, Ang goes out with her friends and after the chorus of “Shots, shots, shots!” her willpower gives out and she does one. Her sobriety had a good run there. Her liver got a long-weekend, and her lungs were offered a tiny respite. It was all in the timing, Ang says. “This summer, I need to drink and smoke!”
“My Angela is a party queen. She’s not about to give up cigarettes and alcohol,” Linda says.
Now that she can puff and chug her way to happiness, she exclaims “Big Ang is baaaack!”