Dani's marriage to Marty Caffrey is O-V-A. Why? Marty says:
"Danielle typically looks to place blame at somebody else's feet. It's difficult for her to take responsibility for anything."
Oh, and she's:
"arrogant, disrespectful, presumptuous and entitled."
Look, Dani... we all know you're one sandwich short of a picnic. Seriously, you were just after this dude's cash. And to your soon-to-be-ex: WTF were YOU thinking? Have you not seen any previous seasons of RHONJ? Your wife was engaged 19 times and married twice, and she had to change her name to escape a sketchy past.
Love it when someone's reality makes for the best reality TV.
The 66-year-old and his betrothed got married in Italy. The Hoff's two 20-something daughters were in attendance. Awww....
David and Hayley met in 2011 when he was a judge on Britain's Got Talent. Was she a contestant? Nope. Just a fan asking him for an autograph. So, it was a stroke job all the way around? Anywho, he only gave it to her (the autograph) after she gave him her phone number (then he gave it to her.)
You must be okay with this being an I-love-your-wallet transaction, because nobody's into your dimpled ding-a-ling.
By the by, his new wifey and daughter share the same name. And they're close in age. Vurp.
"I'm really hurt that she's cut me off completely. I used to have a phone number and text number for her personal aides at the palace, but after I said a few critical words about the royal family changing Meghan, they cut me off."
Yup. That's just how things go, Tommy boy. Now, he's making some veiled threats to air all the "dirty laundry" while the British media gives this taint-pimple a platform. The Queen herself may be intervening to make him go away!
He just so... sad... in many ways.
"Perhaps it would be easier for Meghan if I died. I hope we reconcile. I'd hate to die without speaking to Meghan again."
Maybe if you could not be a publicity-seeking schlong pincher she'd speak to you!
Just go back to sitting around in your sh*t-stained undies, drinking a Milwaukee's Beast out on the porch of your Mexican shack. And while you're doing that, why don't you eat a bag of steamy weens, you over-inflated sad sack!