Jersey Shore
Goin' South

Episode Report Card
Lady Lola: B | 2 USERS: B+
Mamma MIA
erlude will be less memorable. Some random good ol' boy (more emphasis on the "boy" than the "old") and offers them lemon drop shots so he can sit down and pick their brains. Sadly, we don't see all the parts where he probes them for the answers to world peace, global warming, and perfect ratio of double-stick tape to fabric on a braless night out at Karma. MTV has to keep some secrets after all! We do, however, see them rolling their eyes at how he doesn't know how to vibe. "Obviously he fucks his sister for a living," Snooki says. First, I take offense to that as an Alabamian, and second, Snooki hooked up with The Situation for air time... So let's just say people in glass hot tubs shouldn't throw stones, okay? They eventually bait Cleetus into an attempt at fist pumping. He rolls his head around like he's prepping for the friggin' Olympics, then goes to town. Verdict: Too much pump, not enough fist. Snooki and JWoww leave, unimpressed by the South, and even more resolved to get down to Miami for all that sweet, sweet gorilla pounding.

And now MTV's given us some added value by throwing in some Blockbuster-sponsored vignettes. Highlight #1: The Rock is "the ultimate gorilla." I suspect you will not be seeing a Highlight #2. Sorry to disappoint.

Back in the Bronx, "Smush Captain" Ronnie packs up his things for South Beach. Likewise in Jersey, Sammi teeters out to the corner and waits for her pimp... uh, I mean producer to come pick her up. Over in Staten, Angelina delights in the anticlimactic, boner-crushing surprise of her own arrival. How can the girl who left on the principle of "I am too lazy to work in a boardwalk T-shirt shop" be such a legend in her own mind? Speaking of unwarranted self-inflation, Vinnie vows to get with a different hooch every night and double up if he ever misses a night. As Angelina Schmolie heads to her plane, Ronnie and Sammi remind us not to care about their stupid showmance some more.

Snooki and JWoww, Pauly and Sitch hit up Florida simultaneously, serenaded by the ghost of Enrique Iglesias's mole. The boys win the battle of the bedroom selection, arriving at the house first. The hot tub looks semi-classy, and it doesn't stink like thousands of cigarette butts, Drakkar Noir, and discarded dignity (yet), so I'd say these kids are moving up in the world.

Speaking of moving up in the world, trash bag-less Angelina arrives as they scope out the rooms. She admits she's expecting the worst. Which, if I had pink pockets sticking out of my booty shorts, I probably would as well. And she is on them like bianco on risotto, y'all. She gives each a desperately friendly hug like they're besties from forever, and all they can do is grimace behind her back.

Sitch interviews that he doesn't hate on many people, but he is less than thrilled to see Angelina. He advises her to pick a room so she's not stuck with someone she doesn't like. Without a beat, she asks if she can bunk with them. Oh, sweet irony, I'm glad we've gotten this summer share together! Sitch and Pauly consider Angelina's aforementioned history of cock blocking and momentarily humor her anyway.

They mug and curse up a storm as she lugs her stuff into their room. Pauly wastes no time pointing out her legitimate suitcases and mocking that they still have price tags on them. He considers both sides of having Angelina as a roommate. Con: She's a bitch and a game killer. Pro: She has a vagina. More to the point, she reminds them they've all hooked up and assures each she's up for another round. They decide to let her stay on a temporary basis.

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Jersey Shore




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