We're here to tell you, faithful readers, that yes — dreams really do come true. After almost a year of waiting — of wishing! — our prayers were finally answered. Finally — finally! — we were treated to a Jersey Shore episode (Season 3, Episode 8) almost entirely devoid of the horrible, sulky Sammi Sweatpants, and it was every bit as cathartic as we dreamed it would be.
Oh, sure — we had to put up with about three minutes of sweatpants-filled sorrow, as Sammi fled from the house of broken dreams and broken beds, and ventured home to Misery, NJ, to her family's modest raised ranch. And really, it was quite fitting to learn that Sammi Sweatpants (the most awful person in the world) grew up in a raised ranch (the most awful style of house ever designed). Truthfully, it was like another piece of the puzzle magically fell into place.
Anyway, back at Casa di Guido, Ron was inconsolable. See, this is what separates Ron and Sam from the rest of the human species. If you, or I, or any rational person were punched, screamed at, and almost thrown out the window, we'd leave, right? We'd pick ourselves up, muster whatever remaining shred of dignity we could manage, and move on. But not Sam, and not Ron. No, Ron (the very same Ron who, several hours before, had meticulously destroyed each and every one of his girlfriend's earthly possessions) was irrationally, illogically despondent in Sam's absence. He meekly tried to seek some comforting words of advice from Snooki & Co. — but the girls, who were clearly on Team Sweatpants — put up a frosty wall of impenetrable ice. And after finding little in the way of support from the guys (because, really, what words of advice can a man offer his homicidal, bedroom-destroying friend?), Ron retreated to his room and, for the 27th time that day, wept like a baby.
Meanwhile Deena and Snooki, depressed by the unshakable melancholy that had descended over the house, decided to lighten the mood with a good old-fashioned prank-fest. Remembering one of their favorite capers from back home at the Shire, the crafty pair of hobbits sneaked a slice of a cake from the kitchen, and smashed it into Vinny's unsuspecting face. Naturally this led to an all-out prank war between the human boys and the hobbit girls — the highlight of which, disgustingly, involved a Claire's Accessories bag full of Pomeranian poo.
The next day Ron awoke with a case of the sads, and an even bigger case of colonic distress. After gently sobbing in bed for an hour, and after successfully clogging all three of the house's toilets, Ron slowly moped off to work — leaving the house a teary, blocked-up mess. After his shift at the T-shirt shop (the entirety of which was spent crying in the bathroom), Ron returned home and ordered a dozen roses, a box of chocolates, and a stuffed teddy bear — all of which was to be delivered as an apology to Sam. Because, you know, nothing says "I'm sorry for destroying all of your things, telling you I hate you, and trying to throw you and your bed out the window" like a $5 stuffed animal. Afterward, in a vain attempt to boost their friend's morale, the boys dragged Ron out of the house for a trip to the barbers. But nothing — not a haircut, or a unibrow threading, or even a back-sack-and-crack wax — could cure Ron's sweatpants-induced malaise.
Later, back at the house, Deena was constipated. Which, sorry! — call us a prude, but we would never — never! — go on national television and talk about our bathroom habits. NEVER! But not Deena, and definitely not Snooki. No, those dirty little hobbits chatted ad nauseum about their regulatory habits, with Snooki offering sage advice ("Have a coffee — then it'll flow out of your butt hole like...a frickin' rain storm.") as Deena held her distended stomach, howling in pain.
But oh, the classy bathroom banter didn't end there. No — Pauly D was in the downstairs bathroom, carefully applying an industrial-sized can of Crisco to the front of his hair, when he stumbled upon a pair of panties — panties so foul, so disturbingly soiled, that when Pauly lifted them off the floor with a spork, and proudly paraded them through the house, the Jersey Shore producers actually had to blur the image. And rather than discreetly disposing of the begrimed undergarment like a gentleman, Pauly flung the mucky undies onto the living room couch. Both Deena and Bowwoww quickly denied owning the stained panties, claiming that they must have belonged to one of Vinny or Pauly's one-night stands; but it was obvious that the blighted bottoms belonged to one of the female housemates.
Talk quickly turned from the nasty knickers back to Deena's irregularity. Because, instead of discussing books, or movies, or even sex, all these dirty little hamsters know how to do is talk about is poop. They hide dog crap in each others' beds. They mercilessly clog toilets. They incessantly discuss nonsensical remedies for relieving constipation (an aggressive round of Jersey Turnpiking is Bowwoww's preferred method). There were so many scatological goings on in this episode that we nearly wished, in a brief moment of insanity, that Sammi would return, if only to break up the foul monotony (notice how we said "nearly").
After a few more minutes of diagnosing Deena's bathroom habits, the guidos piled into cabs and headed over to Karma. And while the rest of the housemates drunkenly pumped their fists, and while Ron hysterically wept in a corner, Snooki, like a hungry hamster, made her move. Overly randy from a four-month drought, Snooki grabbed the first unsuspecting gorilla she could get her horny little hobbit hands on; and, lifting the confused fellow above her head, Snooki carried him out of the club, down the street, and back to her fen lair. "But...you don't even know my name, Miss!" the hapless chap pleaded as his captor tore off his clothes. But Snooki didn't care. She was only after one thing that night, and there wasn't anything — especially formalities like first names, clean sheets, or consent — that was going to stop her.
Several hours later, after a booze-fueled night of hearty fist pumping, the other housemates drunkenly stumbled back to the house. And while the others laughed, and playfully pulled bedroom pranks, Ron remained stoic, an island. Nothing, not even the site of Mike hand-feeding Vinny a pickle, could penetrate Ronnie's insurmountable wall of sadness. And as the credits began to roll, Deena — who, all kidding aside, most likely pooped behind a taxi on her walk home — tried her darndest to break through to Ron — to show him that, despite all of the heartache, and pain, and embarrassment he'd endured, that the world was still a place full of endless beauty, and joy, and inappropriate bathroom talk. But alas, his mind was already made up. Ron confessed that he was thinking about leaving Seaside Heights; and as a single, salty tear rolled down his puffy cheek, the camera slowly, slowly faded to black.