Wow. So, that happened. Wow. So, yes: there are run-of-the-mill Jersey Shore episodes filled with the usual drunkenly debaucherous fare; and then there are mind-numbingly memorable installment's like last night's — a chapter of our saga filled with so much Snooki mayhem and foolishness (seaside lesbian romps; dumpster dives into recycling bins; literal run-ins with foreign police officers) that it stands alone as a truly remarkable episode of televisual greatness. And by "a truly remarkable episode of televisual greatness", I clearly mean "an appalling, cringe-worthy example of why America is a dying nation". So let's see what happened, shall we?
This week's Snook-fest picked up where last week's left off: on the way to their pizza parlor shift, Ron and Jenni played pleather armchair psychiatrist for Snooki and her fledgling bad romance with the more-than-slightly unhinged Jionni. Snooki took all of her friends' advice with a grain of salt — which is to say, she ignored it completely. At the restaurant, Ron spent the majority of his shift on a bullhorn, screaming at female passers-by to "work it" (classy strategy, bud!); and after several gruelling hours of non-work, the three stooges took an elongated break to go shopping. For you see, that weekend, the gang was going to the coastal resort town of Riccione, which is sort of like Northern Italy's answer to Seaside Heights. And after shopping around for cooka-concealing beachwear, the girls (plus Ron) were eventually herded back to pizza hell by their boss — who, by the way, truly has the patience of a saint.
After work, Snooki called Jionni, who informed her that she was rude the night before. Snooki replied that she heard from her roommates that he was rude (because, you know, she was black-out drunk and couldn't remember anything that happened, natch). Jionni, fed up with all of the meatball-related dramz, declared that he was no longer planning on coming over to Italy to visit, and hung up the phone. And really, I suppose, if anything set in motion the catastrophic chain events that followed, it was probably that single, damning hang-up. But I'm getting ahead of myself!
The next day, the gang desperately tried to load their luggage into their two tiny rental buggies (with Pauly wisely quipping "Eight pieces of luggage, two Fiats: you do the math." So smaht sometimes, that Pauly!), and ended up having to strap their ridiculously over-packed suitcases to the tops of the cars. Oh, except for Ronnie! Our forever roid-raging Ron, who'd recently been making a surprising bid for "most rational housemate", had packed only a plastic shopping bag full of condoms, bananas, and Xenadrine. Not even a toothbrush! — that's how economical a traveller our guy is.
And after zipping east along Italy's highways and byways — with Snooki's stumpy, trunkish legs barely reaching the car's pedals — the gang eventually reached Riccione, and their hotel. Not wanting to miss an opportunity for binge-drinking hilarity, the crew's hotel room was generously stocked with mountains of hooch, most likely by the show's bear-baiting producer.
After a few practice drinks at the hotel, the girls hit the beach, where Deena and Snooki started pounding shots like two off-the-wagon drunks on a suicide drinking mission. Before long, they were asking their dreadlocked bartender if he knew what "cooka" meant, which quickly devolved into the pair screaming "vagina" (in cartoon Italian accents!) at the top of their lungs. An older Italian gentleman in a sweater (a sweater at the beach — god bless Europeans!) eventually approached the Tourette-sian twosome, and essentially informed them that they were behaving like poorly dressed, rabid gutter-rats, all of which was true. (The girls' response? "We don't care, we're from Jersey," which is just...perfect.)
After staggering away from their sweater-clad hater, all four of the girls decided to go shopping. Which, after an afternoon spent binge drinking, wasn't exactly the safest idea. Mortified by their companions' behavior (Snooki spilling drinks all over on-the-rack clothes, Deena shouting obscenity-laced nonsense at the top of her foghorn voice), Sammi Sweatpants and Jenni Bowwoww ran screaming back to their hotel room, leaving the two meatballs to fend for themselves.
Stumbling through the streets (in broad daylight, mind you), Deena and Snooki heard the intoxicating, faraway pulsing of club music; and with their fist-pump-loving, guidette antennae perked all the way up, the girls, like moths to a flame, were drawn all the way to an outdoor dance floor. And guess what — the boys were there, too! And oh, how the fellas watched Deena and Snooki tear up the dance floor! They were mildly amused during the girls' exotic, simulated matador dance, in which Snooki charged Deena — only to overshoot her mark, and wind up face-first in a decorative hedge. But shortly after Deena danced her bikini bottom off (no, you read that right: Deena danced so hard, and so intensely, that the underwear portion of her bathing suit literally flew off of her body), the heartily mortified boys, led by The Scenario, decided to pack up and socialize elsewhere.
The gruesome twosome continued raging their war against sobriety while the rest of the gang enjoyed a last supper-esque dinner (seriously, the seating arrangement looked like the head table at an Elk's lodge wedding), eventually rejoining the group just in time to hit the club. On the cab ride over, Snooki booze-burped into everyone's faces; and when Deena slurred that she had no shame, all Sammi Sweatpants could do was nod in terrified acknowledgement.
At the club it quickly became apparent that Deena, who was erotically dancing in between a hot tub and a pane of perspex glass, hadn't put on fresh underwear since the last pair exploded off of her body earlier in the evening. (It's also worth noting as well, dear readers, that throughout the episode, Deena was incapable of pronouncing the word "underwear" in its singular form — constantly saying things like "So what if I fuh-got to put my undah-wears on!" As I watched, I couldn't help but imagine Deena getting dressed, slowly pulling on layer after layer of underwear, just in case a pair should spontaneously burst from her body in the middle of Jersey Turnpiking on a crowded dance floor.) And as the rest of the club-goers gasped in horror at the sight of D's cooka, Bowwoww bravely tried to talk her pal off her makeshift stripper podium. Intoxicated beyond the point of no return, Deena shrugged off Bowwoww's warnings and took her sideshow act to another section of the club, where she and Snooki mindlessly gnawed at each others' mouths, like under-fed lipstick lesbian zombies. That's right: bi-curious Deena was back, and she wasn't alone.
This, of course, cued the usual barrage of Sapphic puns from Vinny and Pauly ("Lez be honest", etc); but after seeing a very knicker-less Deena hover in close proximity to Snooki's face, it quickly dawned on the rest of the group that, if they didn't intervene and bring the meatballs home soon, they'd all be knee-deep in the midst of a seriously public strap-on session.
Undeterred, however, Snooki and Deena made out for the entire cab ride home; on the balcony of their hotel; and, later, in the bed that they shared for the rest of the evening — the blanket, a writhing, fleece accomplice in their nocturnal mischief.
The next morning, after talk of Ron jacking Pauly's swack (whatever; after the booze-a-thon from the night before, seeing Ron stealing Pauly's annoying "Get outta bed, YEAH!" thing was beyond uninteresting), and after some Sweatpants and Bowwoww retail therapy, the gang returned to the hotel room to rouse the slumbering meatballs, who were undoubtedly struggling through what must have been the most epic hangovers in the history of ever. "It smells like hot sweat and regret in here," Vinny opined — and as a mere TV spectator, I had to agree. Gray and disheveled, Deena eventually awoke, declaring "I need a food." And again, one can't help but wonder: is English this girl's first language? Because seriously — seriously, now — if Deena isn't a secret immigrant from a land where grammar is just a seven-letter word, then our education system has failed in a major way. Not just failed in an "oh my god, I danced so drunkenly hard that my panties self-propelled from my booze-soaked body!" kind of way — but failed in an "oh my god, the semi-literate future of our country is totally f**ked!" kind of way.
Anyway! Snooki and Deena eventually compared notes about the night before; and although there were vague, hazily nauseous memories of same-sex tomfoolery, Bowwoww and Sweatpants had to shade in the rest of the shady details. And after packing up to leave (this was, after all, a blow-in visit with one mission — namely, drunkenly lesbianic ratings gold), the gang left for the two-hour drive back to Florence. Snooki drove the girls' car, which...probably wasn't safe? I mean, if my friend was black-out drunk a few hours ago, I probably wouldn't let her get behind the wheel in a foreign country — but that's just silly ole, safety-crazy me!
Back at the ranch, Snooki called Jionni to confess her adulterous crimes. With her housemates gathered round to watch the expected fireworks, Snooki told her hysterics-prone boyf about how she and Deena had wishboned around Riccione the night before; and, shockingly, Jionni didn't seem to mind! — further proof that J is one unstable MFer. And later that night, Vinny gave the episode — nay, the show! — one of the best zings in the history of zingdom. As Sam and Ron slinked off to the smush room for one of their depressing, baby-talk sex sessions, Deena said "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" — to which Vinny quickly replied "We know — there's a girl and a guy in that room." Le burn!
The next day, after a work shift filled with Wookie-fur boots and hiding in up-turned recycling bins (both of which were as revolting as they sound), Snooki and Deena decided to drive to the gym. The pair spent the bulk of the trip complaining about Italian drivers, and flipping off pedestrians and motorists; and after a particularly egregious bit of OTT BS editing on MTV's part, we saw Snooki sideswipe an Italian police cruiser. Or, at least I think she sideswiped him — it all happened so fast, and was buried under 10,000 layers of truly woegeous editing, that it was completely impossible to discern what really happened.
Of course, none of this really mattered, because we all heard about the infamous Florentine crash when it happened months ago. I'm sure the President held a press conference about it at the time, that's how important and newsworthy it was. Anyway, brainiac Snooki had left her license back at the villa; and as the Italian po-po were carted off in neck braces on stretchers, Deena rang the boys to fetch Snook's ID. The uninjured police then tested Snooki's blood-alcohol level, before asking her to get into the back of their car. Snooki, still wearing her infamous granny sunglasses, begged for mercy, screaming "I never want to go in the back of a cop car ever again!" And as the credits began to roll, the boys arrived on the scene with Snooki's long-lost license. But at that point, Snooki was already being carted away, speeding off to a most uncertain fate. Which, of course, isn't uncertain at all, since we learned (in real-time!) months ago that her reckless driving went unpunished. But still! — end of episode drama! What will happen! Etc.