Jersey Shore, Season 3, ep. 3
Last week’s teaser promised us an epiphany, apology, and a drunken beach orgy. And they delivered on all three, thank you MTV Gods for wasting 20 years on the Real World so that you could figure out just how to make the greatest one yet, The Real World: Oompah Loompahs.
Sammi, if you remember, was freaking out about Ronnie, because the only things she knows how to do is sucking, straightening, and slapping the life out of a man, and she’d already done two of those that day. ‘Roids is sleeping on a chair outside, and she cuddles up next to him, not really saying anything just yet, just waiting for him to swim to consciousness and realize that he wasn’t doting on her, even while she slept, and to stop being so awful to her and get with the praise already.
The solid metal safety door that blocks reason from the rest of her brain has cracked slightly, and the little bit of light shining through is truly a work and a wonder.
“I think I’m going mental. I’m sick in the head.”
‘Roids almost knee jerked, “Your hair is perfect,” but does a double take at the deviation from his trained script. The hamster wakes up and spins on his wheel and Ronnie slowly realizes that for once, she’s not mad at him.
Sammi smooths a lock of hair, and has a rare moment of self reflection. I mean the kind that doesn’t involve her mirror. “Like, I owe Snooki an apology.”
Up is down! Right is left! Wet is dry! You better right yourself, because I know your world just got rocked. Sammi “Sweetheart” has finally accepted that her boyfriend was a douche nipple and cheated on her, lied to her face about it, and boned her after nailing some beach skeeze. Doing the math, she realizes that Snooki and Jenni, well, Jenni never comes into the equation, but Snooki was trying to help a sister out by writing that stupid-ass anonymous letter detailing all of this.
Good for you, Sammi for recognizing that you were wrong. It’s not easy for anyone, and I imagine that for you it’s akin to teaching a dog to walk on their hind legs. Now let’s see if you can go that extra step and say it to Nicole and not your ‘roided out cheerleader.
Not that Nicole would understand anything said to her as she’s in the kitchen eating a raw potato. That’s not hyperbole, she grabs a raw potato and eats it like it’s an apple. Oh, did I need to mention that she’s drunk? Snooki is always drunk, it seems, and it’s starting to be a sore spot (there’s that herpes again, Snooki, you should have brought the cannoli) in the house.
Sweet, sweet Vinny, a concerned look on his face, rubs her back gently and tries to pull the potato out of her gnashing maw without losing a finger.
“That’s not how you eat a potato.” No, you drill a hole in one end, stuff it with a pickle, wrap it in bacon and deep fry it. And don’t forget the ranch dressing and wing sauce to dip it in. It’s what makes this country so great.
So what on earth is causing Snooki to kick up her drinking a notch to the point where she’s drunk 24/7? As she slips into a coma she whispers out a strangled, “Rosebud… I mean, Seabiscuit…”
Seabiscuit is the pet name that has been given to Vinny’s ginormous dong. Everyone wants a ride on a champ, let’s face it. Snooki is hoping for another bareback gallop on her resident thoroughbred, but Vinny drags her out of his room and plops her on the sofa. Vinny is a smart (and good) guy that won’t have sex with a chick that’s practically incapacitated. Morality aside, where’s the fun in banging a sack of oats? Wait, this is Snooki. Where’s the fun in banging a leather bag full of pickles?
Deena isn’t paying any attention to this because Mike is in the room, and since Day One she’s tried to create a situation between the two of them. Mike is making a sandwich to avoid conversation, and Deena offers him a free gum scraping, even tossing in a complimentary Zoom® tooth whitening session, just for coming in, hurr hurr.
Maybe the funniest (albeit unintentionally) thing ever in the history of this show is Snooki’s voice over, “I know she likes Mike, but she doesn’t want to be too forward.” I mean, come on, she didn’t switch on the neon “Free Mustache Rides” sign hanging over her labia, she’s a lady, fa chrissakes. Demure and shy. She only would expose half a nipple, the whole areola is what Rhode Island sluts do.
And because Snooki always has her girl’s back, she proposes a three-way between she, Mike, and Deena. Am I that old that I don’t get that this is just what the kids are into these days? When I was in school we ratted our bangs and shoplifted Sweet Valley High books and dreamed of boys touching over the bra but under the sweater, so what the hell do I know?
It’s enticing enough for Mike, who claims that he’s in it for the bragging rights of having a three-way, all while secretly being disappointed that it’s not with the two that have alluded his seduction snare, Vinny and Pauly. They all troop into the guest room, and Snooki, because she’s a wily midget, slips out of the room, leaving the two of them to get acquainted. She sees this as the perfect opportunity to take the stallion out of the paddock for a gallop.
I’m telling you, Vinny is my forever love. Snooki climbs under his blanket and gives the microphone a check, hem hem, and he smells the booze, extricates himself and sends her away to sleep it off. I wonder if he knows his mother is watching. No, I think he’s just a good boy.
Mike, meanwhile, is realizing that he is no longer having the fantasy but is now embroiled in a ménage à ugh. Time to divert the kink to some easy to digest snuggling, but Deena won’t shut up. “How many girls have you been with? What’s your favorite movie? What kind of meat do you like on your sandwich? Do you floss after every meal? You should see the gingivitis that walks in my office every day, it would put you off your food for a week. Wanna get it in? Your penis, I mean.”
Situation is FUBAR, and he knows it. He convinces her to go to the bathroom (Listerine for a full 60 seconds!) and sneaks out to make another sandwich. This guy can pack away the lunch loaf, I’m telling you. He’s coined the phrase “Kitch-n-Ditch” and that’s awesome. Deena, bewildered, slowly figures out that it’s not happening tonight, this love affair she’s been thinking about nonstop, and they fall asleep in their own beds, tragedy avoided for the Sitch, itch left unscratched for Deena. (A little ointment will help with that.)
It’s GTL in the morning with Pauly D and Snooki, who’s still a little drunk from the night before. And I’m not a germaphobe, but she reveals that she’s not wearing underwear, and she’s going to the gym, and I know that I will never sit on a public bench again. They go get their tan on, because they’re competing with who can get darker, and I flash back to my Ban-de-Soleil days. Did y’all hear that she died of cancer and her ovaries were like two raisins because of the sun tanning? Or was that just something we said to scare the girls who laid out with Baby Oil? Good lord, I use to lay out with baby oil slathered on. It’s a wonder I don’t look like an old boot.
Snooki, in her attempt to get “black,” burns her ass in the tanning booth. Like an alley cat in heat rubbing their ass over everything, she’s rubbing her butt looking for someone to “cool it off” for her. You know how your cat just always wants their banana chip (you know what I’m talking about) near your face? And you so do not need that pucker in your face? Someone needs to explain this to Snooki. But no worries, there’s a mini-fridge in one of the bedrooms, she’ll just sit her bare ass on the cooling element in there. Where there are still drinks and edible things in the fridge. I love this girl, but damn, she is nasty. Who ever thought that a house rule should be to not put your naked ass inside the fridge where we keep the snacks?
True story, when I was in Vegas back in 1993 there was a woman that was dressed to the nines walking along the strip. She was clearly drunk. She made her friends stop as she hiked her skirt up and took a dump. On the strip. Not the grass by the sidewalk, the strip, aka the sidewalk. This was back when Treasure Island had just opened, so this patch of the strip was packed with people. I can’t confirm it, but I think that might have been Snooki’s mom. The pieces of the puzzle just fit.
Meanwhile, Sammi and ‘Roids are having an argument (what? Those two?) and Ronnie is quickly reaching his limit. Anyone else would have reached their limit about twenty million arguments ago, but whatever, this guy is the master of tuning things out. Sammi is now convincing herself that Ronnie is cheating on her now. She must have found a curly hair on his jacket, because she wants him to confess. To what? Well, she’s not sure, but he should just go ahead and confess.
Don Sammi is handling this inquisition, and if he doesn’t admit to whatever trumped up charges she’s imagined he’s going to get the straightener to the pubes again. She does enjoy a good auto de fé on a Sunday morning. But what’s this? Ronnie again strays from the script and leaves her there to stew after a good “fuck off” and a stomp about. He and Mike are off to work out, the Situation telling him to “take it out on the Jim” who is the very handsome and buff Italian Stallion that hands out towels in the men’s shower. He’s totally ripped, bro.
Sammi must have spent some time thinking things through as a few minutes into her work shift with Snooki and Pauly, she pulls them aside and offers Nicole an apology. Nicole, being big hearted, takes it at face value. She throws in a few “you were such a stupid whore!”s in for good measure, because this opportunity doesn’t come around often, and she was right to twist the knife a bit. But really, good for you again, Sammi. It couldn’t have been easy, especially when she’d been so bull-headed for so long. I might have to change how I feel about this girl if she keeps having these moments of personal growth.
After the shift is over, Sammi thinks to herself, “Apologizing to Nicole felt good, maybe apologizing to the one person in the house that really deserves one would feel even better?”
Naturally that means she has a heart to heart with Deena about being mean on her first day. JWoww is upstairs waxing her bikini line, feels a shiver, and shrugs it off to a goose walking over Sammi’s grave.
And let’s be real here. Sammi could apologize for being a butt-faced giant all day long and it won’t change the fact that she is who she is, an insecure, angry young woman who takes her frustration out on everyone around her, and Jenni is (mostly) an adult who doesn’t have time for that shit. But it would be entertaining television to watch Sammi try, I won’t lie to you.
Deena and Sammi decide to toast their new friendship with Patron that night. Let’s get pissed! At the club JWoww sees an old flame and starts to replay the “why am I with my asshole boyfriend again?” record over in her head. They spend the evening having fun catching up, and it appears that nothing sexual happened between the two. Because really, if she had gotten with that guy and didn’t break up with her ex, that would be a massive case of the pot calling the kettle a dirty-ass liar.
Speaking of asses, Deena is happily making one of herself by not being able to stand upright while dancing on a stage. Some kind soul stands near her, grabbing her every time she topples, which is every time she breathes in or out. I don’t make it a habit to get drunk, and rare is the time I’ve ever been falling down drunk. Watching someone that shit-faced is upsetting, because you can remember the times you’ve been drunk, sitting in the bathroom of the club or bar, holding on to the wall, waiting for things to stop spinning. You laugh a little because it’s funny and kind of pleasant for a few seconds, and then you tell yourself (probably out loud) that you’re cool, you’re cool, it’s fine, no problem and some girl in the next stall over reaches under the wall and holds hands with you, and you feel sooo good about things, and people are so supportive, you guys, and you turn on the water to wash your hands and get distracted by your face, oh man, my mascara! And you giggle with your new friend who is now puking in the stall and you go back out to the club determined to not look drunk as you list dangerously starboard when the beat hits your sternum like a sledgehammer.
No one likes to see that, it’s a reminder of where you’re headed if you don’t lay off the shots. Deena’s carted out of the club, as Pauly tells us, six minutes and thirty-seven seconds after arrival. Damn, girl. The guys share a communal shrug and get back to what matters, fist-pumping to some sick ass beats. That means that it’s Snooki’s turn to fall all over the place. She’s nowhere near Deena’s level of drunk, she’s only at the wobbling on her heels, would kiss anyone stage. Vinny, because he’s a knight in shining Hardy, tries to help her out, but she’s not having it. No Seabiscuit? No Snooki.
Pauly D, on the other hand, has someone trying to get all over his Man O’War. It’s his stalker from last year, Danielle. Danielle the Gypsy is trying to cast a love spell on him by getting juuuust close enough to collect a little hair, maybe some nail clippings and then he vill be all hers, ja. He tries to tell her to just back off, but you do not tell a Romanian Gypsy when you are done, she vill tell you! And for that, Mr. DJ Pauly, you get a drink in the face. But it’s no ordinary drink, it’s cursed! You’ll be forced to live the rest of your days with buffoons who can barely speak, and who fight all the time, ha ha ha! Vengeance is sweet.
I would love love love for this girl to pop back up, maybe with her hair shorter, some black lipstick and a neck ribbon. She’s not quite Fairuza Balk, but she could get there with a little determination. Don’t give up on your dream, leetle Geepsee.
Mike has also run into an old friend (a girl, too!) who is, I have to say, absolutely adorable. They’re hitting it off and head back to the house to get it on. As Mike says, her DTF is off the charts. (Down to fuck.) And I don’t know about you, but I’m just like Mike when I get someone to leave a dance club with me and go to my house for a little finger in the circle, wink wink. I like to get them to change out of their sexy club clothes and put on some baggy and brightly colored Ed Hardy sweats , get them to stand in the bathroom with me and wash our faces, put on some toner and moisturizer, maybe some special eye cream, then head downstairs and make some god damn sandwiches, because that’s all Mike and I eat. That, my friends, is how you seduce a lover.
Mike and I are doing it right, aren’t we?
Seriously, dude, you’ve been trapped with Deena and your fist for days, you get a gorgeous girl who seems to want to touch you and she’s not been partially raped by your need, she’s not been roofied, she wants to come home with you, and you do everything but fuck her. This is why I think you’re gay. You put on TONER. With a half naked, hot chick. You all but showed her your Justin Beiber tat on your inner wrist, dude, the one with a dancing unicorn in the background. After a few hours (oh my god) of dilly dallying, they head upstairs to “have the sex.” I assume.
During all of this Vinny has not only tapped four chicks, he’s written two chapter of his novel “How I’m Such A Good Dude, And You Can Too!” sterilized his shower caddy, called his mother to tell her he loves her very much, and played the tickle your arm game with Pauly for an hour. Oh, Situation, you’re all talk, dudebro.
In the morning (two hours after we left the guys) it’s time for “work.” Snooki isn’t even hungover yet, she’s not stopped being drunk from the night before. She’s dragged to work, but it’s under her terms: she’s wearing exactly what she passed out in, her clubbing dress and no panties, her frog slippers, and a horse blanket (Seabiscuit is a thoroughbred and requires covering while he sleeps.) Not only is she still drunk at work, but she keeps trying to slip out and down a beer on her shift.
Now, if you lived in say, Australia, having a beer in the work day is pretty normal for a lot of folks. Snooki is trying to down a beer with a BEER BONG. At work. She holds her blanket closed with one hand, and a funnel and tube in the other, while trying to sneak into a closet to “have a beer.” She’s partied so hard for so long she doesn’t realize that you can sip the side of a glass and take in the liquids it holds as an alternative to bonging one.
Her boss, who has the patience of a saint, a saint!, sends her off for a coffee. Which translates into her drunk hearing as “wander the boardwalk sipping a Long Island Iced Tea, have a basket of fried pickles while you’re at it, and pop in a bar for some shots.” Her boss finds her, only kind of freaks out on her (a saint, I’m telling you) and calls it a bad job and for her to just be done “working.”
She immediately heads back to the bar, gets an old dude and his wife to do some body shots off her, which is when Jenni and Deena find her. They’re grossed out and try to get Snooki to just come back home with them. She gives them the slip and wanders the boardwalk looking for the beach. The beach boardwalk is where she’s walking, I don’t know if I even have to mention that, but there it is.
Some sarcastic dude who probably thinks this is his lucky day is sitting next to the fence. The fence that separates the beach from the boardwalk. Snooki asks him, “Where’s the beach?”
The guy, not believing his luck, I mean, he’s been working on some sweet comebacks for his MMORPG group, and really, they’ve gotten kind of full of themselves since they finished that one campaign before he and his band of raiders were able to get there and show that bunch of spell casters how real men take down a band of elves, and now is the perfect time to lay those sweet comebacks out there to the world and get like 200 XPs, booyah!
He takes in a deep breath, telling himself to facebook this later, and says, “It’s-”
But Snooki has left, galumphing down the staircase and landing face first on the beach. Another sarcastic joke ruined by alcohol. I feel you, kid, I feel you. It’s like a vorpol sword to the chest.
Jenni and Deena run past the guy crying into his wizard cape, barely casting a glance his way, and try to corral Snooki. It proves to be impossible; through the forces of drunken bonelessness she’s able to get out of their grasp every time. She runs to the shore and Jenni does the smart thing: grabs Snooki’s purse before it gets wet. It’s the only thing that is of value at this point. A massive crowd is gathering around them, and it’s becoming beyond embarrassing for the girls.
They plead with her to get off the beach and go home, and finally the inevitable happens, the cops show up. Jenni and Deena are mortified and worried for her, trying to calm her down. Snooki is too far gone and cusses the cops out, telling them as her sunglasses slide off her face, “I’m a good person.” Well… usually, honey, just not now. The Beach Cops (and where’s that show?) cuff her and put her under arrest. Deena bursts into tears, this is not what goes on in the life of a respectable dental hygienist/waitress. Pissing yourself in a club is one thing, but this is in daylight.
JWoww, because really, she’s good people, immediately calls Snooki’s father because she “doesn’t want him to hear it from anyone else.” That’s a good friend. She’d totally hide your porn if you died so your parents wouldn’t find it, she’s that friend. The guys all come back from “spotting each other” in the men’s shower at the gym and try to figure out what’s going on.
“Snooki got arrested for public drunken indecency.”
“I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
The gang all troop to the t-shirt shop and promptly made “Free Snooki” shirts, because that is what you do on the shore when your friend goes to jail. Well, that and some Jaeger shots.
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