The Fist Fight Heard ‘Round the Shore
Season 3, episode 2
No time to waste, we’re jumping right in with a left hook to JWoww’s ear by Sammi “Sweetheart.” I think that nickname is like how you call a fat guy “Tiny.” The girls start flinging their arms back and forth, shoving each other’s faces away as Vinny and some of the camera crew step in to break them up. Deena leans back against the kitchen island, watching it all in amazement and saying, “You stupid bitch” over and over.
I mean, yeah, JWoww has that street-tough thing in her favor, but Sammi has a “nothing matters in life once my hair is jacked up, so I might as well go full balls” attitude in her favor. They’re pretty evenly matched, which is shocking, huh? Never underestimate the rage from potential split ends, folks.
Everyone is in their neutral corners now, Jenni with a big rip in her shirt and Sammi winking away a blooming black eye, and Snooki, ever the opportunist, opines that she still can’t believe Sammi would stay with ‘Roids when he treated her so shamefully. (Cheating on her nightly, then climbing into her bed when done. Gross.)
Sammi, because she never really listens to the others, and that’s because to hear what they’re saying is to acknowledge that she’s been wrong and bull-headed, and that is not how this girl operates, is shocked. Shocked! “So now he treats me bad?”
No, I’m sure this happens all the time with fairy-tale romances, a princess getting cheated on by her prince with some horse-faced woman, lying to everyone about it along the way. And the princess is so beloved, is so sweet and charming that no one could believe that unattractive prince she’s saddled with could ever not want to be with her. And like, oh my gosh, can you imagine, that prince has secret phone calls with the horse-face woman about wishing he was a tampon! That would never happen. Wait…
During all of this, Ronnie is just texting away, whatever is happening on his phone infinitely more interesting than the same ol’ “my girlfriend is a psychotic numb-nuts and I live in a house of loud people that have the same fight every day.” Ha, I’m just kidding, he’s just playing Tetris on his iPhone, he’s not thinking of anything beyond matching up shapes and it is so hard, you guys, ahh, a flat one!
This is all too much attention at things that Sammi is not ready to look at for herself, so she finds her way out to the patio off her room, waiting patiently albeit grudgingly for Ronnie to realize she’s not hovering over him so he’ll come looking for her. Then she’ll know she means something to him. After she asks a series of baited questions to elicit just the right response from him so she’ll know she means something to him. After he admits that she is the Queen of the shore house, unprompted, or it doesn’t count. Then she’ll really know she means something to him. For that day.
‘Roids doesn’t realize she’s gone and instead talks to the camera about how he likes that she sticks up for herself. He is completely oblivious to the irony of that statement in relation to his treatment of her. He has a moment of phantom limb ache and realizes that Sammi isn’t lurking behind his meaty shoulder, so off he goes searching in the one place he knows she’ll be. He holds her chin, turning her face this way and that, looking for bruises, which is his way of showing he cares.
“Why didn’t you stick up for me?”
NEEDLE ON THE RECORD SCREECH. Sammi. SAMMI. Can you not remember five minutes ago when you demanded that Ronnie repeat after you, “I do not like these people. Whatever you feel about them, I feel too. I do not need my balls in this life or the next. Sam is Queen.” Did JWoww ring your bell that hard? You didn’t even bring your hair straightener out on the patio, I think you may have been hit harder than you are letting on.
Snooki and Deena are already over the drama; that bottle of tequila won’t drink itself! Snooki sees an open suitcase and lays down inside of it, curled up like a snail. Maybe she’s hoping if someone closes it she’ll wake up in a Jersey-version of Narnia. Instead of a lamp post in a woods it’s a neon palm tree in KARMA, the dance club. Instead of kind Mr. Tumnus and a spot of Earl Grey, it’s Sylvester Stallone and a roofie-laced Long Island Iced Tea. But it’s not, Snooki, it’s a world of Persian Mafia dudes pointing at their crotch and calling it “Turkish Delight” and shitty-ass tapas and and hairy apes with flash gold chains listening to lame house music and oh, I’m sorry, that’s what you’re into. Apologies.
Mike is the first up the next day, and because he’s crowned himself Daddy Sitch, he goes to everyone’s room and wakes them up. The girls get kisses on the forehead and a “Time to get up, ladies,” and the guys get kisses on their nipples and a “You’re still asleep, just let this happen.” No, they get bro shouts of “GTL time!” That’s gym, tanning, and laundry.
The guys bug out to hit the weights with Sammi in tow. Of course. She’s that girl that thinks she is so independent, that her man can’t do anything without her say so, yet she can’t let him be away from her side for longer than a #2 break, and he better not have taken a book in there to read. The girls notice that Sammi went to the gym and muse that she’s there just to watch ‘Roids lift.
Editor’s cut to the gym with Ron benching and Sammi tripping on her elliptical while watching. Jump cut to Ron doing pull ups and Sammi sitting on a shoulder press bench, watching. She’s, as Snooki calls it, a female backpack. Nah, it’s more like a fanny pack since she’s constantly up his ass. Those are Ron’s words, verbatim.
Vinny and Pauly, tossing balls in their room and it’s not as hot as it reads, wonder out loud if Deena’s boobs are real. So being the guys they are, they ask. They also ask her what boobs are “made of.”
She thinks about it for a second and replies in a thoughtful tone, “So, like, it’s a mass of glandular, fatty, and fibrous tissues situated, ha ha, over the pecs in ya chest wall and attached there by fibrous strands called Cooper’s ligaments, I dunno who the hell Cooper is, probably some dude that was into cans. A layer of fatty tissue surrounds the boob glands and extends throughout the tit. The fatty tissue gives the knockers a soft feel.” Don’t forget, she’s a dental hygienist, she knows things.
The guys blink for a second, they’re still staring at her double Es. “So, what, there’s no milk in there?”
Deena smacks her gum and pulls on a lock of her hair, “Nah, you only get milk in there when you’s preggers. I think.”
So… do guys really think we have freaking milk in our jugs all the time? That’s sad.
They get over their sorrow – I mean milk is super good for muscle recovery, these gym rats would know that – because it is T-Shirt Time. Cabs are on their way, and Sammi and Ron couldn’t care less. Well, who knows what ‘Roids is thinking. Sammi is not going out, she is going to lie on her bed and rub moisturizer into her corns and Ron is going to lay next to her and watch. And maybe hold the bottle of lotion, if he’s even freaking capable, god, she cannot count on him for anything.
Jump cut to a montage of everyone else spraying shellac into their hair. If you look closely, you can see little stalactites of condensed and drying hairspray on the light fixtures. JWoww blinks the fog from her corneas. “Thank God none of us has asthma.”
Cabs are here, everyone (minus Fric and Frac) waits for the Situation, who seriously takes longer than the girls to get ready. He has his head buzzed except for a bizarre plot on the top of his head which he carefully arranges like it’s god damned Ikebana, makes sure he has an ass in his jeans and didn’t leave it upstairs, looks over his shades at his reflection and starts making out with the mirror. It’s all he really wants, anyway, a clone of himself to fondle and love. He whispers to himself, “Tonight I will not be a douche-a-saurus that skirts the line of flirtation and rape. Tonight I will be a gentleman that does not frighten the ladies with the ferocity of my desperation and need. Tonight, I will be chill and the ladies will flock to me.”
He sighs, puts on a second necklace, checks his breath, and pats his pocket, making sure the Rohypnol is still there, secreted away. Just in case.
Right away there’s a code 11 Stalker Alert issued. A young woman, the kind from the Midwest that never really dated, never really listened to anything that wasn’t on the radio, never had anything but a few stolen sips of Bud Light from her daddy’s garage refrigerator, has spotted her first celebrity, Vinny. The gravitational pull of his awesomeness (he’s on her TV back in Omaha every Thursday night!) is too much for her, and she orbits him in the club all night long, grazing his atmosphere with every rotation.
Vinny is noticeably freaked out because he didn’t realize that being “famous” means that ordinary people like you. They’re not like me, Vinny. I’m special. You and I could be special together. My intellect would help mask your… lack of, and the love you have for your mother will balance out my not having one. WE WOULD BE PERFECT TOGETHER. Here, breathe into this napkin, doesn’t it smell sickly sweet?
Vinny, with the help of his main squeeze Pauly, navigates the club, weaving through crowds, hiding behind walls, ducking into groups of prettier girls and hiding his face in their cleavage. Every time he turns around Normal Norma is there, a sadly dopey expression on her face. She just wants to reach out and touch him, make sure he’s real. If she could just get close enough, she could show him the story she wrote about the two of them, how he fell in love with her, how he moved back to Topeka with her, they raised four strapping young boys and vacationed at the world’s biggest ball of twine. She tries to show him a picture of Mr. Delvecchio, her black and white kitty cat, he’s so dapper and sweet, just like Vinny. You’re just like him, I bet you like to eat pot roast off her lip, too.
Vinny says something to her, but she can’t hear what he’s saying, she can only hear a rush of wind in her ears, a pulsing beat by DJ Shadow, and the sound of her own heart’s beating. “I LOVE YOU” she shouts but he’s gone, his orbit breaking with hers, the energy of his sun no longer lighting up the contrail of her desire. The Situation swoops in and convinces her to give him a blow job in the guy’s bathroom, her tears will be lube enough.
Stalker girl disappears in the night sans incident, but the Sitch does convince two girls to make out. One of them seems into him and Vinny, and makes it obvious that a Devil’s Threeway is on the horizon. Mike will never admit that he is really into the idea of sharing a girl with Vinny. It could only be made more perfect if it was with Pauly, but that’s a dirty little secret he keeps locked way down in the darkest places inside himself. They all head back to the house, and Mike, because he can’t help himself, goes to check his appearance in the mirror of his room. This is the perfect chance for Vinny to perform a robbery, and lock himself in the guest room with Willing Wanda.
Mike is shocked. SHOCKED. How could Vinny not want to share a girl with him? He even spritzed on a new layer of Christian Audigier for Ed Hardy cologne. He pounds on the door and begs and pleads to be let in, god, he was so close, but nothing doing. Nothing left for him but to go downstairs for a conciliatory PB&J. Deena, who incidentally spritzed on a new layer of Love and Luck by Ed Hardy for women, says casually, “You can have me.”
The Situation laughs softly, she’s no Vinny, I mean, she’s no Willing Wanda. “Nah, I’m good.”
Damn girl, take the hint.
JWoww, a little drunk (she’s the type that is sneaky drunk. Girlfriend can maintain.) calls her boyfriend Tom to check in. Does she get credit for this? No, instead, because Snooki needs her off the phone because she needs to use it, Tom gets all huffy and says in an icy tone, “Happy Anniversary to you, too,” and hangs up on her. Yeah, he’s that guy. He didn’t have a gift or a card or anything, but probably is calculating enough to see that because Jenni didn’t mention it, he can use it over her because he’s the type that likes to make women feel bad so they’re more complaint. And he picked JWoww?
She looks shocked, then sheepish. Yeah, she missed it, but eh. He’ll get over it. Good fa you, toots. Nothing to do but shrug and fall face down into her bed.
Everyone wakes up Sunday to find that ‘Roids and Sammi have bolted, no note or anything. They’re off to church, they claim. Is that… code for something? No? Actual church with the kneeling and the prayer and the Jesus stuff? Okay, then. Ah, there’s probably some dry humping in the car until Sammi gets bored because Ron pulled her hair again and it doesn’t even feel good because she keeps thinking of that weeping Jesus statue and it makes her uncomfortable knowing she was checking out her Lord and Savior’s totally hot abs (sweet swimmer’s body, all muscled up and toned, Body of Christ!) Eh, she’ll make Ronnie buy her something, that’s always worth it.
The group back home go get their GTL on because that’s what you do on the day of rest. The editors make sure to show Jenni working on a punching bag. They all leave to get groceries because these kids know the value of a Family Dinner. I so love that about them, too. They really do see themselves as a family (except for the assholes in the house) and use Sunday Dinner as a day to get all of their problems out and move on from it. That’s the power of a pasta and salad course, people.
Except hold up, Pauly D is really concerned about Sam and ‘Roids, because will they be there for Sunday Dinner? Surely they realize the importance of that, and wouldn’t miss it? Cut to a shot of the two of them sitting at some outdoor diner. Daddy Sitch states that if they do miss dinner, they are going to be put in the Time Out Corner.
Vinny makes a point of saying that there has never in three seasons been an incident where someone has missed Sunday Dinner and that this moment is “very profound.” How can you not love these kids for this? And oh my god, are those chicken cutlets with a reduced cream sauce? I love these boys.
Deena ingratiates herself to the guys by offering to cook. She’s clearly never cooked actual food before (microwaving Lean Cuisines at the dentist office on your lunch break doesn’t count) but the guys are happy that someone is helping them cook for once. They all sit down for a big, noisy, Italian family meal, laughing and joking and stuffing their faces.
Crickets as Sammi, not looking at anything or anyone, picks the crust off her hamburger bun with her pinkies out and puts minuscule bits of bread in her mouth. Snooki jams a huge wad of cheesy pasta in her maw, Vinny laughs at something Jenni says. Utter silence as Ron, looking off in the middle distance, slurps at the last bits of moisture in his to go cup. Do these two know how to have a romantic dinner date or what?
The two dorks roll back to the crib and Pauly gives them a very stern look, with undertones of hurt in his watery eyes. He playfully (but not really) states, “Uh, you missed Family Dinner.”
Sammi, after giving the room a quick once-over to make sure the girls aren’t there, laughs nervously, “I could care less.” Yeah, it’s easy to sound above it all and aloof when you know no one in the room is going to get in your face.
Awkward…. None of the guys know what to do with this icy presence in the room.
They head out to the t-shirt shop where they’re all forced to work for their room and board, to get their upcoming work schedules. Sammi immediately goes behind the counter to rewrite hers, she is the master and commander of her shift. Whatever, the group just collectively eye roll, and get on with the night of kick ball and shots on the rooftop.
Sammi, because she’s set a precedent for herself, sits on her bed in her vortex of lame, and picks at her fingernail polish. Ronnie (you didn’t think he wouldn’t be planted at her side, did you?) sits obediently on the edge of her bed. She stares him in the eye. “You coming to bed.”
Not a question. There are no more questions in this relationship, it’s all been decided long ago. Sammi tells Ron what to do, when to do it, how he did it wrong, and what he can do next time to improve.
Ronnie lays on his bed, wishing he could at least masturbate, but Sammi won’t let that happen, because what the hell is she there for? And Ronnie would say, if he only had the balls (steroids destroy them, you know,) but you won’t even let me get it in because you say it’s dirty, but he can’t say that because last time he did that, she took her hair straightener to his pubic hair, the hot sizzle a threat to his tender ball skin. He never realized how long pubes were, and it made everything down there even more shrunken and shriveled in appearance.
The first work group of Vinny, Deena, and Sitch head out the next day, and Vinny and Deena have proper work ethic. No matter what their job is, they do the best they can at it. Take note, kids. The Situation, who actually has a job in real life of personal trainer and assistant (to the) manager of a gym, wanders off while on the clock and gets himself a sammich. Yeah, you’re cool, dude.
Deena, filled with virtue from a day well spent, gets Snooki to play kickball on the roof. They accidentally kick the ball to the neighbor’s roof, and spend way too long with a hose trying to slap it within reach. They’re both midgets (no, really) and this is ridiculous. In comes Vinny to save the day McGuyver style with the detached pieces of a beer bong that they have (of course they do.) My first thought was they they’d stick the cone part down to the ball and let the girls suction that mother right on up, but they instead whack it around with the cone until it’s close enough to grab.
My way would have saved a good ten minutes, I’m just saying. Those girls have the skill set, don’t front.
Mike has a heart to heart with Ronnie about not being a dick, but being a dude, and maybe all the guys should go out that night and hit the boardwalk for some fun? Sounds great to Ronnie, who almost forgot what fun was. Sammi pops up like a god damned jack in the box and asks, “When are we going?”
It’s decided that everyone in the house will go, which naturally pisses Sammi off. If she’s not going to have fun, no one else should, either. Well screw you, Sunshine, because everyone else has a blast. They ride the coasters, play the carny games, eat the cotton candy, and laugh their asses off, enjoying themselves. Sammi stomps around behind them, waiting for Ronnie to notice her absence and realize that he wasn’t really having fun, and that he should go home with her and hand wash her PedEgg.
‘Roids, however, is having a blast. A little part of him that was almost dead starts to come alive. This is… laughter? I remember this, way back in the Long Ago… Sammi huffs loudly at his elbow and he tells her to cram it and have a good time.
“Ron. I’m feeling complete alone here.”
That’s because you are, dear. She is getting angrier, and angrier, you can practically see the heat waves pouring off her body. That weird sensation that just ran down your back was from that high pitched noise of her grinding her teeth together.
“Ron. I need to towk to you, but I can’t. Everyone’s ignoring me.”
Oh, you don’t say? Why on earth would anyone miss out on your rays of sunshine and joy that you can’t help but radiate? They’re the losers, Sammi Sweetheart, you are clearly being maltreated and are wonderful.
But Ronnie for once doesn’t comply with her script. She sneaks away and sits by herself on her Woe Patio, again waiting for her boyfriend to realize she’s not there and make obeisance at her feet. Maybe give them a wash, too, and rub some olive oil into her bunions. She sits and waits. Miss Havisham and her rat-infested cakes, waiting for her love to remember her, and all the while plotting her revenge.
Hours, maybe days go by. Ron slides the patio door open, his shoulders already stooped forward with the weight of this relationship. “What is it.” Huge sigh.
Well that wasn’t the reaction she’d been waiting for. Sammi “Estella” Sweetheart begins to cry, knowing that Finn, aka ‘Roids Rage Ronnie, is helpless before them. No one can know her pain, the pain of being unfairly ostracized because of her incessant douchebaggery.
A leftover spark of joy that wasn’t extinguished by her crocodile tears, apparently, prompts Ronnie to ask the first sensible question I’ve heard from him: “Why are you the only one allowed to hurt?”
Shocked by his audacity, she goes to the only trump in her hand, the cheater card. He storms off, because he has apologized profusely for it. Honestly, the chick should have left a year ago. But that’s admitting defeat, and if there’s one thing that striker from her soccer team had beat into her, there is no such thing as losing.
She follows him, insisting they need to “towk” and he has questions he needs to “ax.” Something clicks in her head. Maybe a random Christina Aguillera lyric gets stuck on repeat in her head, maybe it’s just the equivalent of a psychic burp, but she finally gets something right. “I’m sick. I’m sick.”
Well, Miss Havisham saw to the error of her ways, too, in the end. We’ll see how this all plays out in the next episode, with bonus drunken and disorderly Snooki as a palate cleanser.
Watch the Jersey Shore on MTV, check local listings.