Jersey Shore

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Sleeping with the Enemy

The next morning, Sammi regrets lashing out at Ronnie for snooping in his phone numbers. She apologizes, and Ronnie, like the colossal prick he is, makes her feel like shit. He tells her that his girlfriend was the only person who didn't advise him to leave Sammi when their whole world blew up at the reunion show. He lays it on thick, saying his only downfall is that he loves her too much. Did I mention that Sammi is weeping through all this? Give me a frickin' break. The two jerks try to put their two orange noggins together to figure out how to make it work, but it's really just Ronnie cursing up a blue streak and hypocritically accusing Sammi of not listening to him. All I'll say is that, if the times you say "shit" and "fuck" outnumbers the times you use actual words during a relationship conversation, you probably shouldn't be together. Short story long, they decide to fuckin' work on their shit. Though they don't have the sort of iconic love of Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski, says Ronnie.

That afternoon, the whole gang reports to their new summer job at a gelato shop. They meet their boss Angelo, who Ronnie characterizes as stern but not a dick. He's enviable in his brevity, I suppose. Amazingly, Angelo does have some concerns with Pauly's hair. He fears that the same tresses Pauly previously claimed to be bullet-proof, fire-proof, and indeed motorcycle-proof will not be gelato-proof. Wouldn't that be amazing? If gelato were the kryptonite to Pauly's Samson-like mane? I'm dying from anticipation.

The burning questions will have to wait, though, because Ronnie decides to get some dumb-ass side-torso tattoo. Sammi joins him for the needling. This act of solidarity apparently seals their bond for the ages. Ah, vapid love!

Elsewhere, Pauly, Sitch, Vinnie, and Angelina head out for sushi. Angelina prides herself on being the only girl hanging out with the guys, not realizing that they're just letting her tag along because they don't care enough to antagonize her openly. They do, however, passive-aggressively remind her that all the girls are gunning for her. Angelina pretends that she doesn't care, giving the age-old "I'm not here to make friends" excuse.

That night, in a further effort to pad the show so it will actually last another 10 episodes, we learn about the guys' pre-game dressing routine. In short, there is a preparatory tank top followed by "T-shirt time" in which the fellas actually put on their finery (a.k.a. whatever Ed Hardy monstrosity they find most aesthetically pleasing) for the night. What this says to me is that these MFers sweat like a whore in church. Who needs two shirts for one night? Also, Pauly D coats himself with at least 20 seconds of Axe body spray. I can't imagine the squiggly lines coming off of that one in person, y'all.

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Jersey Shore

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