The show opened with two of our favorite muscle-y guidos locked in what looked like nothing more than an aggressive bear hug. After the two slipped around on the floor for several seconds, three giant mysterious bodyguards swooped in to break up the fight — at which point Mike, who, thanks to his twelve months of reality television training, can never let an argument end un-dramatically — slammed his head into a sponge-painted wall. The bodyguards disappeared into some secret corner of the house, never to be seen or spoken of again, as The Sitch writhed around on the floor in half-pain, gripping onto a self-tanner stained foam pillow.
After the spittle, flying Ikea bed planks and drugstore cologne settled, it become clear to the rest of our merry band of Italian tourists that the major damage was all The Situation’s doing. Was it a stroke of genius to create drama for the show, or was it — as Pauly D theorized — a desperate call for help on Mike’s part to escape the never-ending drama that is the SamRon relationship? No one is really sure, but within two seconds it becomes clear that the rest of the cast is thisclose to slamming their own heads into the walls of their Italian abode to escape the anxiety-causing drama. Jeez, Sam and Ronnie, you’d think that when someone SLAMS THEIR OWN HEAD INTO A WALL TO ESCAPE YOUR FIGHTING that you’d realize that maybe your relationship is not only not healthy for you, but for everyone within a boom mic’s distance from you.
Well, this dramatic scene was surprisingly not lost on Ronnie who, as he watched Mike get carted off to an Italian hospital in a stretcher with two green foam yoga blocks strapped to his head, decided to have a talk with pretty much the only reasonable person in the house: JWOWW. Ronnie ushered the sleepy JWOWW into his gorilla playpen of a room for a chat about what it all means. Sammi, in a fit of misguided jealousy, lunged at the pair in mixture of screaming and ugly-crying, her mascara dripping down the very mall cart-chic polyester dress that Ronnie had bought off the street for her a few hours earlier. Jenni, channeling the frustration of pretty much everyone watching the fight, started beggingSam to leave Ron alone for two seconds so that he could calm down. Seriously Sammi, just let the pointless Ron drama go for two seconds! JWOWW is a professional reality show house matron, she knows what she is doing!
After talking to JWOWW, Ronnie realized, once again, that maybe his relationship with Sammi isn’t really that healthy. (Um, DUH.) Ron asked Sam to talk with him in the smush room and, after she removed half — but not all —of her fake eyelashes, Sam eventually joined him. What’s the point of even going over what they talked about this point? It is the same situation every time: Ron and Sam are just not great together. They fight, they have irrational jealousy issues and being followed around by cameras 24/7 probably isn’t helping their already-on-thin-ice romance. Maybe back in the pre-fame days of getting drunk on the Jersey Shore these two were a good fit, but it is becoming painfully obvious to literally every person in America that these two have the definition of a toxic relationship.
Anyway, Ron told Sam that he wants to break up and Sam eerily stared at the ceiling before storming out of the room in a screaming fit of rage. Yeah, getting dumped on national TV isn’t the funnest thing in the world, but these two have broken up and gotten back together on-screen so many times that it seems silly at this point to get mad about it. SamRon are pros at breaking up on TV, just like Pauly D is a pro at dishing out bon mots and The Situation is a pro at cocking his plastic sunglasses half way down his face and flashing his abs. Can we focus on something else now?
Oh God, but we can’t. After breaking up with Sam, Ron decided that he needs to leave the house, stormed back into his playpen and began half-heartedly packing up his little bottles of steroids. Vinny, who is now visibly showing signs of SamRon fatigue, came into Ron’s room and told him to relax. After mumbling for a few seconds, Ron declares that he is “here for a reason” and decides (shocker) that he won’t be leaving the house. Sure, this constant cycle of perfect-for-TV drama may end up killing him, but he is doing God’s work — if God’s work was showing America’s young people what an unhealthy relationship looks like.
Luckily, Pauly D returned home from the hospital to distract us away from SamRon and inform the rest of the house that The Situation is basically fine. Sure, he took a self-inflicted beating to his head but this is The Sitch we are talking about and his brain is clearly not as valuable as, say, his abs. The rest of the house shrugs and goes on with their lives: Pauly, JWOWW, Deena and Snooks go off to fill in the “L” of GTL while Ronnie heads to Florence’s only sad little gym to sweat out his problems.
Oh, there was one hilarious break in the tiresome SamRon drama when a hapless Italian florist called the house asking for “Nooki” and “Sally-Jenny” to deliver flowers from their non-roid-raging normal boyfriends. Vinny, clearly confused by the idea of someone having a normal relationship in the house, hangs up on the florist and slinks off back to his teeny-tiny plywood bed to get at least 30 minutes of un-interrupted sleep. Sally-Jenny? We will be using that in the future.
Back to the drama: Mike arriveed home (showing off what has to be a practiced backwards-exiting-car move) to announce that he has “head trauma” and a “neck sprain.” However, no 1 curr, and Mike goes off to bed to slyly slip on a neck brace, perhaps in a bold move to make his injuries look more real but, still, no one is biting. Mike begins to realize that, hey, maybe people in this house don’t really like him, and slips on a pair of sunglasses to cry into his pillow. It would be kind of pitiable if you don’t factor into account that Mike just attempted to tear the house apart by claiming that he hooked up with Snooki. Yes, the life of a reality show villain is a lonely one, and The Sitch is beginning to realize that sometimes what is good for TV might not actually be good for forming actual human connections with people. Sure, Mike has dozens of dollars coming in thanks to his lucrative tuxedo rental endorsements, but he doesn’t have a single friend in the house. In the words of Snooki, “Wah!”
Oh, but just when the cameras were focusing in on Mike, Sammi swooped into frame to remind us that the SamRon drama is far from over. After half-heartedly checking in on Mike (“Are you OK? Here are some half-eaten strawberry Pop Tarts.” Plop!) Sam announces she is pulling the ultimate guidette diss on Ron and is giving back all of the gifts that he has given her. The horror! Sammi begins piling up the fake plastic Chanel bag that Ron had bought her and —oddly enough — a single dirty man-sized shoe on Ron’s bed while she waits for him to return from gorilla playcamp.
Of course Sam, being well-trained in the world of guido drama-stirring, hits a nerve with Ron by daring to return the cheap trinkets he had scraped up for her on the streets of Flo-town. Ronnie returns home and begins throwing a tantrum, taking all the items and furiously dumping them into a trash can. Instead of letting the cheap items go into the waste bin where they belong, Sam swoops in to fish out her cheap dress and plastic earring from the trash. “These are diamond earrings,” Sam attempts to convince no one in particular. Oh girl.
Meanwhile, can we take a break to comment on how amazingly beautiful Sam looked at the VMAs on Sunday night? Seriously, Sam, you looked A-MA-ZING. Please ditch the flat iron-fried hair and start wearing your hair in soft curls from now on. You looked phenomenal!
Anyway, back to Italy. Our macaroni rascals decided to smooth over the tension from the previous night by splitting up amongst gender lines and drinking their problems away. Perfect! This won’t end badly or anything.... The gals put on their fanciest banana clips and toddle off to some disgusting-looking Mexican restaurant for what passes for nachos and margaritas in Florence. Meanwhile, the men, sans poor-baby Mike, decide to thump off to some closet of a club to find a new girl for Ronnie. Oy.
At the tiny club, the boys begin dancing and vibrating with a mixture of local and American grenades, which angers some of the Italian men. See, the men who frequent the tourist trap clubs of Florence aren’t used to having bona fide celebrities around to swoop in and distract all the half-pretty female students away from them. In fact, these men are a little mad that these orange-skinned guidos are stealing their one night stands away from them. These girls are supposed to be regretting hooking up with sweaty Italian dudes, not our Shore friends!
Apparently, one local had had enough of our favorite boys coming in and stealing all their womenfolk. Pauly was innocently grinding with a maybe-of-age Italian lass when a local male swooped in to deliver the ultimate threat to any man’s masculinity: the words “che cosa.” What is “che cosa”? Well, according to Google translate, it basically means “What” and, according to Pauly’s Italian female dancer partner, it basically means that the man is a “dusshe beg.” However, Pauly will not stand for some man mildly disrupting his seduction game by speaking to him in gibberish, and —perhaps inspired by the Ron-Sitch drama from the day before — attempts to engage the Italian pest in a fight. You know, for someone who is part of a reality show that is the butt of every late night show host’s jokes, Pauly has some unusually thin skin. Anyway, Pauly goes off on the guy and the pest and his rag-tag gang of deep-V wearing playboys threaten Mr. D by telling him that he is “in the streets of Florence.” This threat is hilarious for a number of reasons, but mostly because it is about as fear-inducing as telling someone that they are “in the streets of Portland.” Yes, maybe there are some street toughs in Florence who could threaten our favorite band of reality stars, but these 90-pound boys sipping white wine in the VIP section of Florence’s hottest 250-square-foot studio apartment are probably not those street toughs.
After the fight is diffused, Pauly attempted to get Ronnie to take a random woman home but our Ron Ron quickly broke out into a sweat when the woman in question makes it clear she is DTF. (You know, maybe Sam and Ronnie don’t stay together because they are masochists, maybe they stay together because neither of them has enough self-esteem to be with anyone else. Yikes!) Ron decided that the best thing — literally the BEST THING HE COULD THINK TO DO IN A DRUNK SWEAT HAZE — would be to go home and bring a fistfull of roses to Sam. UGHHHHH.
Once Ron returned home and drunkenly waved the roses around, Sam took the romantic-ish gesture as a sign that the two can start reengaging in meaningless, bitter arguments. Ron, finally too drunk to start up all the drama again, collapsed from the weight of all the never-ending, migraine-inducing drama on his toy bed, perhaps hoping, like the rest of us, that he will wake up and not have to hear about these problems ever again. Oh well, he can dream, right?