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If you're hanging off of a cliff and and had to choose between Peter Gunz and Stevie J to save you, how far can you jump without fatally injuring yourself?

Yesterday's episode featured Peter Gunz doing his damnedest to cement a first-round ballot vote into the Fuckboy Hall of Fame. I'm sincerely at the point where I'm praying that this timeline is entirely fabricated by Mona because the tragedy that is this love triangle (I don't care how many times Tara screams I can do bad all by myself, all I heard was Jennifer Hudson holler-singing "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going") is almost unbearable. There are just too many suspensions of disbelief required to accept anything else. For Amina to accept that Peter is going to Trinidad to be the face of an energy drink at the vibrant age of 50 without going "who wants your Maury-Povich-warning-story behind to be the brand representative of anything besides abstinence" indicates an absence of reason that supersedes my already subterranean expectations of her. The irony of Tara traveling to Barbados so that she could tell Peter that he's a terrible dad WHILE HIS WIFE IS READY TO POP AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT completely eroded any moral high ground Tara deluded herself into believing she had. Peter throwing every possible argument under the sun on the wall and seeing what could possibly stick was truly hysterical though. Peter admitted to a sex addiction, asked for couples therapy with someone other than his wife, and said that every man cheats in the same breath. He should've gone for the hat trick and said "you knew what it was." Either way, Tara proudly shrieked something about loyalty, ignoring the fact that she is being entirely disrespectful to his marriage , flounced her vacation wig, and an uncomfortable Peter slinked off to another corner of their rented house (which by the way, had zero furniture besides a small dining table, leading me to believe that it doubles as a porn set).

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Speaking of horrible people, you need a microscope to fine the redeeming qualities of Diamond and Cisco. Diamond throws a public fit after Cisco let her know he cheated and got someone else pregnant, which would be understandable if we hadn’t just recovered from PuppyGate. She runs crying to her mom (who I hope didn’t fly in solely to console her trifling daughter), and wails about how she left behind her child to chase love. Now that everything has fallen apart, Diamond could tuck her tail and return home…but alas, what would Mona Scott be doing casting people with half a brain cell? Instead, she’s going to stick around and pursue the King magazine back cover of her dreams, and see her child twice a month (making her earlier statement to Cisco of “you just lost a very good woman” even more laughable), prompting Diamonds mom to want to have a very stern talk with Cisco.

Now I have to say, I really enjoy Diamond’s mom – and by enjoy, I mean, she seems to be the only person on this show that reads more than Zane books. That said, I have no clue why Cisco would accept to meet the mother of someone who just dumped you, but whatever Mona wants, Mona gets. In the midst of Mama Diamond laying into Cisco about how raggedy it is to drag a woman across country without a plan, Senor Cerrado politely informs her that he in fact did not invite Lady Strawberry, she just popped up at JFK on her own accord, eliciting this response: “only a crazy person would do that”. WHY YES, Mama. Your child is indeed the one who flew over the cuckoo’s nest. Accept that and drag her trifling behind back to the West Coast where she belongs.

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In the E,F, and G plots of the show: Erica and Cyn argue about their Instagram shirts that allegedly make 10-30K a month. That's about as believable as Cyn generating enough seed money from tips as a Sin City waitress to be a silent partner in anything. They just need to have an Aventura/Romeo interlude whenever there's a scheduled scene between those two at this point. Also, let us PLEASE leave the frosted pale pink lipsticks in 2014 where they belong, I beg of everyone. Your mouth looks ridiculous and ashy and I don't know who's convincing you otherwise.

Yandy went out to a public basketball court in Harlem to let Mendecees know that she was with child, because apparently that announcement couldn't wait until the privacy of their home. On a related note: handing people things you've peed on as a present needs to be left in 2014 as well.

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Oh, and Chrissy (it seriously took a while to remember her name) goes to her man Chinks studio to complain that he's never home and argue with the female artist he's currently working with who got pissed that they were wasting her studio time. I don't blame her - she paid for a studio session, not to watch Lisa Lampanelli argue with her man. Ever since her escort accusation, I’ve only paid attention to this alabaster bean bag to play a drinking game that corresponds with her wig collection. Take a sip every time her wig changes. Chug for X amount of seconds, where X equals how tragic it looks plastered on top of her cone shaped head from 1-10. Stay alive long enough to read my recap next week.