ROSES. With Pickles In ‘Em. FRIED Pickles!

Jersey Shore, Season 3 episode 6

You know that feeling of euphoria you get when you’ve done a good deed that’s been well received and you know that you’ve earned the right to let your hair down and just relax, and then you do? And that feeling of well being just flows over your whole body and you think to yourself, “What a wonderful world?”

Neither do the kids of the Shore House.

Before it all goes to hell in a “it fell off the back of a truck” handbag (What? Chennel is totally a brand) the kids all think they’re gonna be alright. JWoww and Sammi have kissed and made up, everyone’s shoulders drop a few inches, and they dance the night away. Ronnie, the unknown of ‘life without Sam bossing him around’ now averted, tosses back a celebratory drink or two. Or nine. As you do. And when you have less than 5% body fat and you drink that much…

Sammi looks on with dread, because a drunk Ron automagically means he is going to stick his penis in another person right in front of her, and then she’s going to have to spend the next 36 hours deep conditioning her hair to prepare it for the Brazilian Blowout she’s going to have done in order to cope with all of this. You just can’t know the pain she and her follicles go through, you guys, you just can’t.

They all stumble (literally) back home, and Mike, who’s once again pulled a chick, takes his friend upstairs for the obligatory “sweats, sammiches and smushing” time. Snooki goes to say hello to the dogs, climbs into their pen, and passes out. Sammi heads to the kitchen to heat up some protein for Ron (girlfriend, you better not bring that man pizza, he is a well-tuned machine. Booze don’t count.) And Ron weaves and bobs his way up the stairs to pass out on one of the beds.

Sammi brings him his Mega Whey Protein Liquid Injection (wow, that sounds like a cocktail at the White Swallow or the Manhole) and he starts blowing chunks. Sammi cries out that if she catches a whiff of his spew, she’s gonna hurl, and chances are someone else is gonna honk, alright? And that’s just going to set off a peristaltic reaction in the house, and nobody wants that. Mike and the chick he’s trying to bone are lying right next to this, I should mention. And they stop… whatever they were doing to watch.

Do these guys know how to keep it classy, or what?

Ron wakes up the next day, rubber legs it to the bathroom, and we learn that he’s messed himself up pretty bad. He’s not just hoarking, he’s bleeding out of his compass rose. The ol’ bleedy brown starfish, and unexplained, to boot! I think it showed tremendous restraint on the editor’s part to not jump cut to Sam sterilizing her hair straightener.

Ron and Sam go to the doctor, and the proctologist makes a big deal about telling Ron that he’s not going to do anything Ron’s not had done before, so don’t be coy. SNAP! of the rubber gloves, and Sam, who isn’t in the room with them, does not pop out of Ron’s ah-noose. So, I lost that bet. Doctor Shenanigans asks if it feels a little painful when he does this… or if he does a bit of thi-issss, and ‘Roids grunts and takes it like the side of beef he is. A little ointment should take care of that.

Really, though, the guy drank himself into a bloody butt hole, and who here hasn’t had that happen? All of us? Most of us? Not me, at least. Jesus, learn to maintain, people.

Did someone say keep it classy? Because Deena’s back home and she’s all about keeping it classy. Pauly asks for Deena and Snooki to hurry up and get dressed for their night out, and they offer him a three way. But, like, Deena would keep her pinky out while holding his junk, she’s a friggin’ lady. She’s not into any Dirty Sanchezing or salad tossing, if you remember. Pauly manages to make them think he’s cool with it and is able to slip out without having to do anything. The man’s a maestro.

10 cans of hairspray later, the girls are ready to go out. Deena hits it off with one of Ron’s friends, but she turns her slogan generator on to Ludicrous Speed and let’s us know:

“I don’t go all the way on the first date. It’s not Halloween. I’m not handing out candy fa free. You need a Golden Ticket to get into these drawers.”

One, that just took Willy Wonka into a whole new world, one that’s more frightening than that creepy boat ride from the original movie, and two, hey mixed metaphor, that’s more like a metafive, am I right? Bump it.

Snooks came home with some juiced up gorilla, but she’s on her period, so no heavy foolin’ around, apparently. I’m surprised. It seems Italian dudes ain’t that into red sauce, OH! Bump it again. I said bump it.

Mike sleeps in the next day and skips going in to his job, because he has zero work ethic, and in a house of (mostly) lazy asses, that’s saying something. Snooks takes her man out for an afternoon bar crawl, and he comes off as being really sweet. He’s attentive, seems to like her, is jokey and affable… So this can’t work out. He tells her about how years before when he was going into the army (aw! He served his country, too? Bell’uomo!) he gave a girl a promise ring.

How. Dare. He.

That’s it, he dug his own grave, he had a life before Nicole. She berates him, tells him to fuck off and never call her again. I am absolutely baffled. She has been going on and on about how she wants someone in her life, but she really only wants someone for the night. Be honest, Snooks, you just wanna steady bang and for them not to talk too much. Or is it that two needy people in a relationship is one too many? Mm hmm, I’m looking at you, Snickerdoodle.

I will say that a highlight of this whole afternoon with her and her suitor was her explaining that the ocean is so salty because of whale sperm, and that we all can go google it, it’s a FACT. Like, she read it in a book or heard it on The Sopranos or something, so it’s totally true. I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that Nicole didn’t pay much attention in chemistry class. I know, I’m probably wrong, she just exudes scientific curiosity.

Anyhoodle, this guy can’t take no for an answer and calls the house a few times, and finally ends up in a Jerky Boys sketch with Pauly pretending to be an answering machine and misdirecting him to various “voice mails” and such. Poor Sizzle-tits, he just wants a taste of the Snooki action. Not without sending her roses, dawg, roses! Unless they make Pickle Bouquets, then that would be preferred.

The girls all head out to the sex shop to unwind, because that’s what you do with your girls on a Sunday afternoon. Jenni slips into a bondage outfit and no lie, Deena comes out, takes a look at Jenni’s body, and pulls her bags in front of herself. NO DEENA, NO. Yes, JWoww is aptly named. But curves are welcomed, and – minus the Situation – you seem to be doing okay in the pick up department, so own your curves, toots.

But Snooki and I both got lady boners, I can’t lie. Jenni’s pretty hot. Sammi’s got a rockin’ bod as well, but she’s just the designated driver. (You know she’s the most into bondage and shit, though, the quiet, needy ones always are. I bet she has a ball gag hidden in that house somewhere.) While they’re loading up on porn, the guys are cleaning the kitchen and cooking Sunday Dinner. Tonight is Ron’s turn, and he’s whipping up some vodka sauce for the pasta. I have mentioned they make all the gravy from scratch, right? Pretty impressive, I gotta say.

When the girls get home, the guys let them know they are none to pleased about doing all the work, and of course this sets Sammi off. (I bet she secretly bought a riding crop or a cat-o-nine-tails.) I mean, hello! She took Ron to the ass doctor, that should have gotten her off any kind of chore duty for at least a week.

Ron: “What don’t I do for Sam, except wipe her ass fa her and breathe fa her?”

Dude. Don’t give her any ideas! She might expect to be carried around in a real onyx litter (littah) if you don’t watch your step.

Everyone sits down to eat and purposely comments on how delicious it is, thanking Ron. (I love the manners that sneak out with these kids, I can’t help it, I’m southern.) Sammi, on the other hand, makes the most pissed off, sour expression yet and says, “I guess it’s pretty good.” OH MY GOD, SHE IS JUST HORRID. Seriously, this young lady is just dreadful. Also, way to make Sunday Dinner awkward for everyone. They all jam the food in their faces as fast as they can just so they can get the hell away from the simmering Chernobyl that is ‘Roids and the Sweetheart.

Deena, however, tries to break the tension by telling the table about a dream she had where Vinny and Pauly D made out. WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT Pauly says, and I quote: “You know there’s a lot of truth in dreams, right?”

I have told you so all along, listen to mama. Also, Ho-ot. Oh, I’m sure they’re kidding, but why would you take this away from me? Would you give a starving dog a rubber bone? How cruel.

Ron goes to bed – and before I finish with what transpires, I want to take a minute to talk about the state of these beds the gang uses. These sheets… They don’t look clean, guys. What, percale 200 thread count? You gotta spend a little money to get sheets that don’t immediately look like you’ve been sweating on them for a solid month. Wrinkled, dirty looking, messy. Blech. Or maybe they just never change their sheets, any of them. Wash your sheets, change them weekly, and if you get something on them significant look to those having sex you should wash them immediately.

Thank you, I feel better.

So Ron is sweating out egg yolks and turkey brine and farting in his nasty sheets and Sammi decides that she has to put her make up on in that very dark, poorly lit corner by Ron’s bed instead of in good lighting in a bathroom, which is what God intended. She keeps asking Ron in this very flat, low tone to “tawk to” her and to tell her what she did wrong.

Where to start… Except Ron, of course, doesn’t just answer her directly, that would be too easy and actually be a way towards resolution. He hems and haws, she pleads and whines, and he tells her to just leave him alone, he just wants to be alone for a bit. And as a happily married woman, let me just offer this advice: have your all by yourself time every single day, or you’re going to go crazy.

We are watching people going crazy. Ron tells her a few times to just leave him the hell alone, and as Sammi violently jams the mascara wand back and forth into the tube to maximize the eye crust, she says calmly, “Do you just want to break up?”

Ron puts down his leather-bound copy of Gravity’s Rainbow, looks over his horn-rimmed specs at her and says, “I think this is a logical conclusion for the trajectory we’ve been on. No hard feelings, we’ve shared some amazing experiences together, moments I’ll treasure always.”

Sammi tugs her boyfriend-style cardigan up her shoulder, realizes she’ll have more time to devote to her all-whistling acapella group, and thinks back to something her psychology professor at Goucher said once. “If a measure of a person’s worth are by the company they’ve kept, then I’d say my life was priceless, and I have you to thank for it.”

They shared a cigarette, put on some vintage vinyl, and shared a last sunset together.

Sorry, I was in fantasy break up land again. Ron shouts at her to stop “threatening him” (dude, threats are bad things, she offered you an out. TAKE IT.) and the ball is hit back to Sammi, who volleys it over the net with a wicked back hand.

Mike, sitting downstairs waiting for the guys to gather so they can leave, feels another piece of his soul dying inside. Vinny shakes his head and muses that “this must be what hell is like.” Mike can only shake his head in agreement.

Sammi puts away the mascara and plugs in her 4” ceramic-plate straightener. It’s going to be a long night, and she needs to get things under control, starting with that one piece at her part that just. Won’t. Lay. Down.

Mike hollers up for her to hurry, and she says she’s not going. What? She’s not going. But they’ve been waiting on her all this time! Sorry, she’s not going. Ron needs to be bothered and she can’t very well do that at Karma, now can she?

Denna is the only chick with MVP again, and they’re totally cool with it. She ‘Jersey Turnpikes’ all night, and I was delighted to learn that it’s when you bend over and jam your ass up in the air while dancing. I’m now thinking “Bridge and Tunnel” doesn’t mean what I’ve always thought. Deena likes it face down, butt up, that’s the way she likes to pump, but nevah fahget, she’s friggin’ classy about it. She’s got on some panties, she’s a lady, jeez.

Pauly heads to the bar to get a drink and feels a cold shiver down his back. Somewhere, a wolf howls and he hears the high-pitched scree of a resined up bow sliding down a violin, the sound only devils make as they come to steal your soul. DANIELLE. A.k.a. stalker, a.k.a. the geepsee who tried to take him for her own. He would make beautiful baby together, and Father says is time to marry.

He’s not an asshole, so he goes over to her, says hello, and chats her up a bit. She seems to take this as her love potion (that she threw in his face last time they met) taking effect, and decides to go home with the gang.

Pauly puts on the t-shirt she made him back in Season 1 to prove he didn’t throw it away, and she’s instantly embarrassed. I mean, not enough to leave, just enough to realize that she’s been a bit… intense. Vinny, on the other hand, is completely livid that she’s in his house, eating his snacks, and flirting with his man. He starts a sneak campaign of getting people to say words that sound like “stalker” (What kind of bird brings a baby? What is a single piece of celery?) and then just flat out asks her, “What are you doing here?”

Watch out, Vinny, she’ll steal your nail clippings and put the evil eye on you! I have to say, I’m completely amazed that she won’t leave, she’s clearly not wanted. Girls, some times you have to cut and run. After what seems like several hours, she takes the hint and leaves. Oy.

Sam, in her bed, is staring at Ron’s back, who is in his own bed. This cannot be allowed. “Come back over here.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I don’t give a good god damn what you’re doing, I told you to do something, and if you don’t, I’m going to cry, yell, or call you a cheater, now get over here and validate my existence!”


“Rahn, TAWK to me. Tell me what I did. I can’t do this anymore. TAWK to me.”

She demands over and over that he just look her in the face and say they’re broken up (Jesus Christ, girl) and finally, he does! I’m impressed. Oh, but it doesn’t matter that he did, because now she wants to tawk about why they’re broken up, yadda yadda.

Maybe she bought the crop to use on herself. Someone should check and see if she’s got nipple clamps, too. She seems the type.

Ron does talk to her, tells her he’s sick of her, how she is, etc., and then gets up to leave, and she will not quit, this girl. She wants more, she wants to talk more, and oh my god, I just want her to SHUT UP. She demands “closure, bro. I need closure, bro!”

Honey. Sweetie. Sugar dumpling love chunk. You got closure. You want to get your way. That’s not the same thing.

She marches around the upstairs after him, and he lets her know that he is going to be awful to her. Aw, that’s nice. I mean, I don’t blame him, but for the love of all that’s good in the world, learn to ignore shit you don’t like, you know? They tell each other they’re both satisfied with breaking up (uh, ok?) and then Sammi says she’ll move out of the bedroom in the morning.

Let’s hope. I doubt it, I mean, we’ve all heard it before. These two are like magnets that repel each other, yet inexplicably manage to keep sticking together. I better get some Jenni/Snooki fun times and more Vinny action in the next episode, I mean, I think I’ve earned it.