It's Monday night, which means you should have tucked the kids in their pink leopard print beds, read them the story of how Chanel was really invented by an Italian, turned off the lights, and poured yourself the first of hopefully many glasses of red wine and Diet Coke. Ask your husband to hand you the remote so you don't chip your burgundy-colored manicured nails with the little diamond on the middle finger (so you can flash the American eagle with style when someone cuts you off in your Range Rover), because money can't buy you class, but it can buy you a diamond the size of a garlic knot. Then lock your husband in his wood-paneled basement with a bottle of Barolo and some dirty picks of JWoww, because it's time for the Season Finale of The Real Housewives of New Jersey!
Teresa and Joe have invited the many and sundry Manzos over to break bread and help promote Teresa's entrepreneurial venture, namely, shilling Skinny Italian products and stepping all over Bethenny Frankel's business model. Although, I don't think Bethenny would ask her friends to pair bellinis with their pasta. You can't really fault Teresa, though. She has to earn some money to keep her girls in leopard print jeggings and buy a replacement vase for the living room after Jacqueline's mother mistook it for a linebacker and took it out.
The enlarged family sits down to their last supper (I'm assuming an FBI SWAT team is going to swoop in and take Joe out at any minute) and talk, naturally, turns to Ashley's impending court case. Jacqueline looks slightly saddened as she reports that the dozen white doves of peace she sent over to Danielle's house were not appreciated and the emissary she sent to beg for clemency for Ashley was splattered with hot glue, beadazzled, vajazzled, and returned home with NO written on her forehead in glitter glue. Jacqueline is shocked that Danielle, a woman she once claimed as maybe someday having possible friend potential, would press charges against her innocent teenaged baby whose only real crime was being stupid enough to pull someone's hair on camera.
Shaving enthusiast and elder statesman, Caroline, clucks at the poor manners on Danielle. I mean, clearly, if she wants to be accepted as part of the group and wants to earn access to the Best Panini (Panini!) in the World, she will have to drop the charges against Ashley. Perhaps it is time for Caroline to step down from Mt. Olympus (that's what she calls her 4-bedroom colonial with stone patio, weight room, and three-car garage) and engage with the enemy. And by that she means, invite her to lunch to berate her publicly. It worked so well when Dina tried it! Teresa doesn't think it will work. She tried to say a kind hello to Danielle and Danielle ran! Teresa is stunningly self-aware. I am surprised she's not a cult leader. For some reason (probably the producers are holding their Chihuahuas hostage) no one tries to talk Caroline out of this not-brilliant plan. Caroline is willing to throw herself in front of the about to de-rail train that is Danielle to beg for Ashley's life, but she asks in return that no one fuck up her negotiations by texting rude things to Danielle *cough* Ashley *cough* or stalking her like a terrier after a weasel through a perfectly lovely country club *cough* Teresa *cough*. Teresa nods glumly, because that was the most fun and most exercise she'd gotten in years. Ashley is not present to sign a blood oath promising not to harass Danielle, so Jacqueline can only promise to try and talk some sense into the pig-headed moron. I mean, we all know that even if Danielle dropped the charges Ashley would still be writing Danielle's number in bathroom stalls up and down the Jersey Turnpike. Caroline sends Danielle a text seeking an audience. Everyone chucks their Skinny Girl Bellinis (I smell an impending Real Housewives trademark war in season 3! dramazz!!) over their shoulders and toasts with actual red wine.