It’s official. I’m now loving The Real Housewives of New Jersey. It’s nowhere near as amazing and perfect as New York, but I think it can hold its own with the rest of the franchise. Last night’s episode was compelling (in a trashy, shouldn’t-be-admitting-it kind of way) but also very funny. Caroline remains my favorite of the group with her guarded, maternal instincts. During the dance lesson, I thought she’d come roaring off her little couch the moment Danielle put Christopher’s hands on her hips. Let me tell you a something about Caroline: she does not like cougars around her cubs.
But this wasn’t Caroline’s episode. This show was all about Danielle and all the dirty laundry that finally surfaced, thanks to a poorly written and previously forgotten about book by her ex. Turns out that in Danielle’s past, she had been a model (read: stripper), who was once romantically attached to (read: blowing) some sort of drug kingpin. One day she came back from a modeling shoot (read: Mr. Muff’s Kitty Emporium), and it just so happened that the Feds were arresting her man. Danielle was booked as an accessory, and from that point on, the skeletons had been firmly locked away in the closet. Until now.
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