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Jersey Shore

Jersey Shore Season 4, Episode 4 Recap: Ronnie Flips Out

Alright, whoever guessed "four episodes" for the big "how long will it take Ronnie and Sammi to have their first furniture-flinging fight of the season?" contest, guess what: You've won! But before we get to the latest in the pair's seemingly endless supply of relationship trainwreck footage, let's back up to the very beginning of this fist-flying installment of Jersey Shore. OK, so after the sex-fest twins eventually dragged themselves away from the villa of shame, the boys went to breakfast to discuss Deena's late-night robbery manoeuvres, and Mike's sexy Snooki secret.

While Mike steadfastly defended his side of the story, Snooki — at a wine-soaked brunch with the girls — flat-out denied smushing with Mike. Talk quickly turned to Deena's girl-on-girl adventures with Erica the night before, and Snooki admitted that she, too, had had a "lesbionic" experience before: "I licked a nipple once." Oh, the things Snooki does for male attention. Or vodka shots. Or both.

Later, at the house, Pauly and Vinny busted Deena's proverbial balls (as they're wont to do) about her foray into same-sex smushing, with Pauly saying, "Come on, lesbi honest." Which, ha!, we have to admit: sometimes Pauly is f-ing hilarious. Unfortunately, Deena didn't find any of the boys' gentle ribbing even remotely funny, and stormed out of the room.

After giving Jionni the 411 about Mike's lying ways (and guess what: Jionni didn't give a shit; problem solved?), Snooki joined the rest of the girls in throwing on the biggest, floppiest hats that they could find. The ladies (now fully immersed in their Yonkers alter-egos: Flo, Nancy, Marge, and Marie) joined the boys for that age-old Sunday tradition, Manson Family Dinner — which, thanks to Snooki's recent screaming match with The Scenario, and the boys' horny-anger about Deena's girl-on-girl robbery, very well may go down in history as the most awkward, silence-filled meal the house has ever endured. But at least there were hats! By God, there were hats.

Later, Deena lamented to her gal-pals that her relationship with the boys isn't what she thought it was. Jenni, channeling her inner guidette psychiatrist, broke it down for D, saying that the boys were threatened by the fact that she hooked up with another girl. Meanwhile Vinny and Pauly, two fellas who never know where the line is until they've not only crossed it, but left it 3,000 miles behind them, decided to move Deena's bed out of their room and into the living room. As a prank!

But because Deena, who was barely holding onto her sanity and sobriety at the best of times, was in an especially sensitive meatball place that night, the "prank" evoked not cries of hysterical laughter, but the wails of a keening Sicilian widow. A sobbing Deena was quickly rushed over to the girls' bedroom, where Sammi showed her her patented "sweatpants fetal cry", a move she had co-dependently perfected over the past several seasons. Bowwoww, still in guidess matron mode, dragged Deena back into the boys room, and made everybody hash out their problems. The boys accused Deena of acting differently now that they're in the house — overly emotional, and unable to take their jokes. Surprisingly, Deena agreed with their allegations, and shockingly made what in various 12-step programs is commonly referred to an admission that she's powerless against the almighty bottle.

But of course, since this is Jersey Shore — and since Bowwoww's psychiatric advice doesn't stretch much farther than "guys, don't fight no mowah" — the group gleefully laughed off Deena's serious admission, and all was once again well in the house. Except, of course, for Deena, who was most likely battling a crippling bout of alcoholism. But anyway!

The next morning, Deena, Pauly, and Snooki awoke for their first official day working for Marco at his tourist-trap pizza parlor. After blindly following Deena — the same young woman who rarely manages four complete steps without toppling over — the merry band of pizza-makers miraculously stumbled upon their new place of employment. Pauly was tasked with the arduous, but in no means foreign, job of sexually harassing female passers-by in the street: shouting, shoving, and otherwise intimidating them into buying slices of pie. Meanwhile, Snooki and Deena were given the much less glamorous chore of scrubbing congealed cheese off of plates.

Unable to surrender herself to the grimness of her new job, Snooki hatched a plan: she and Deena bribed a customer to buy them each a bottle of white wine (they even let her keep the change!), which they then chugged in the employee break room. Which, you know, probably wasn't the most responsible idea Snooki could have had, considering her BFF's recent admission THAT SHE'S A RAGING ALCOHOLIC — but, you know, at least it made for good TV? Anyway, Marco, noticing that a sudden quietness had fallen over the restaurant (the girls had, after all, spent most of their work shift noisily having a potato-sack race in jumbo-sized garbage bags), tracked the girls to their boozey hideout; and after making excuses from behind their locked door ("I have my perioso," Deena tried to explain in her best pidgin Italian), the girls eventually returned to their work stations.

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While the meatballs carelessly drank their work shift away, Bowwoww and Ron spent the afternoon buying $2 dresses for Sam from street vendors. Earlier, Bow had caught Ron on the phone with that chick back home in the States, Hannah; and although she tried to confront him about him possibly igniting another World War with the always up-for-a-fight Sam, Ron mumbled off her accusations. Seriously, there wasn't like a "Oh, don't worry about anything, nothing's happening" kind of thing — unless I missed something, he literally mumbled a few lines of guido-speak nothingness, and then the pair went shopping.

Anyway, the clothes that Ron bought — and we're talking some serious, street-walker polyester duds here — delighted Sammi to no end, and the lovestruck guidette quickly hopped out of her worn-out sweatpants and into her fancy new hooker clothes. After going out for a romantic dinner, where they toasted to finally not being the center of all the dramz, Ron and Sammi Sweatpants headed over to the club to join their housemates. Obviously, it was only a matter of time (time fueled by alcohol, natch) before Ron and Sam erupted into their first fight of the season — thereby negating their previous toast and making themselves, once again, the epicenter of all drama in the history of ever. And the fight itself? Oh, it was that usual thing that happens when Ron innocently stands in the proximity of another female (which invariably always happens in a packed club), which sends Sam into irrational rage. It's adorable, and really is one of their most endearing qualities as a couple.

Anyway, other stuff happened (Mike and Pauly picked up two girls who, as it turned out, were aggressively not DTF; a local girl, in broken English, hilariously said "I don't want to screw you" to Vinny); but the main point is, the gang eventually migrated back home from the club. Sam, of course, wanted to hash things out ("I wanna tawwwk," she whispered in her most seductive baby-talk voice). After Ron pointed out the sheer ridiculousness of Sam's earlier accusations (and FYI, you know a situation's jacked when Ron's the voice of reason), Sweatpants admitted that she was wrong; but she also pointed out that Ron had also been wrong in the past — like a few weeks ago, when Mike told her that Ron was bragging about bringing home a fleet of DTF girls.

Well! If ever there was a wrong thing to say, it was the words that baby-talk-fell out of Sweatpant's miserable mouth. Something about her accusation ignited in Ron a roid-rage so epic, it threatened to eclipse even the fabled flip-out of Season 3 (you know, the one where he destroyed an entire bedroom worth of Ikea furniture). Ron tore off his t-shirt, removed all of his various bangles and pieces of man-jewelry, and stormed into the living room. There, he muscled over to chaise lounge where Mike was sitting (and yes, I couldn't even make up the fact that Mike was sitting in a chaise lounge if I wanted to, the entire situation was that F-ing ridiculous), and flipped it up into the air like it was a piece of paper.

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Mike, understandably, asked Ron what the hell was going on (Ron had reverted back to his indecipherable mumbling — but this time at a very loud, violent decibel); and to prove his point, Ron dragged Sammi Sweatpants out of the bedroom and pushed her — yes, forcibly shoved her! — towards Mike, scream-shouting "TELL HIM WHAT YOU TOLD ME!" As Sam baby-whisper tried to remind Mike of that piece of 6-in-a-bed rumor mongering he had spread earlier, Ron ran into Mike's bedroom and started destroying his bed. It was at this point that I began to wonder "what the hell is it with this kid destroying his frenemies' beds, anyway?!" when it dawned on me: stereotypically, Italian-Americans in movies attack their enemies' most prized possessions — like when Vito Corleone chops off Jack Woltz's beloved horse's head in The Godfather (spoiler!). Suddenly, Ron's bed-smashing behavior made perfect sense. For our rag-tag bunch of sex fiends, beds are the very epicenter of their nocturnal emissions; beds are where their magic happens. Destroy the bed, destroy the guido. It makes perfect sense!

Anyway, the bed smashing erupted into all-out pandemonium; and as the credits began to roll, Mike began hopping around the room like deranged monkey extra from that recent Planet of Apes movie. Just as the violence truly started to escalate, with bare-chested, roid-raging Ronnie lunging in to decimate the much smaller Mike, the cameras cut. Fortunately, there's a new episode on Sunday, before the VMAs! And if this recapper hasn't been thoroughly beaten up by Hurricane Irene, he'll gladly describe all of the ways in which Ron beats Mike's greasy face to a pulp. Ciao for now!

Catch a new episode of Jersey Shore at a special time on Sunday, 7 pm ET/PT on MTV.