Teresa Giudice, the table-flipping terror of New Jersey and a woman who’s last name I still cannot properly pronounce (it’s not “Gwah-dah-dice-ee“, I know that much) and her husband Donkey Kong were on Watch What Happens Live last night to boo-hoo about getting sent to the cellblock after they were caught being a couple of fraud-pulling money-snatching liars. Obviously the whole thing was a damn mess. Teresa pouted and worked some soft-spoken Sunday School teacher realness for the cameras, while her husband squeezed himself into another too-tight suit and sat there looking like a ripe zit about to pop.
There were many wonderful moments, and E! covers most of them (one of my personal favorites is when Teresa plays dumb and acts like ‘Durrrr, doesn’t everyone just sign every random tax-evading form their husbands give them to sign?’), but the most “Bitch, I know you’re already sitting, but you need to take a seat” moment came when Teresa blamed her lawyers for not explaining clearly enough what a plea agreement was, and that’s why she’s going to jail for 15 months.
“I didn’t fully understand it. I thought my lawyer was going to fight for me. I mean, that’s what lawyers do. I don’t know. That’s why you hire an attorney. You put it in their hands. I mean, whatever they wanted from me—believe me—I followed their direction. Whatever they wanted, I gave them. I’m not trying to hide anything. Whatever I needed to do, I would have [done]. After I left court, I left court. I never spoke to my attorneys. It was done.”
That shady bitch, and no, I’m not talking about Teresa’s shady hairline. That dumb scam artist spends years helping her even-dumber husband file phony forms and hiding cash, then tries to tip-toe out away from the scene of the crime by accepting a plea agreement, then ends up with a one-way ticket to the big house and starts blaming her lawyers for not explaining what a plea agreement was. I bet her lawyers could have tried explaining that shit using finger puppets and a song set to the tune of fucking Frère Jacques, and that delusional twat still wouldn’t be able to understand. Her brain would be too busy wrapping itself around new ways to get her fraud on and trying to decide which of her eyeballs looks more like a warped plastic craft store googly eye (answer: Both. They both do).
And if I were Teresa’s lawyer ($20 says he’s the Jersey version of Saul Goodman) I’d be pissed, but not because she threw me under the bus on WWHL. It’s because she left the courtroom without even giving a goodbye present! All that work, and not one autographed copy of Skinny Italian? RUDE.