This latest installment of Jersey Shore opened with Snooki — like some starving, nineteenth-century Irish famine victim — eating a raw potato, for no reason other than the fact that she was hopelessly, haplessly intoxicated. Ultimately unsatisfied with her half-eaten, uncooked tuber, Snooki decided that her unearthly appetite would only be satiated by a game of hide-n-seek with "Sea Biscuit," her affectionate, albeit misguided, pet name for Vinny's oft-discussed manhood. Always a gentleman, Vinny urged Snooki (who was, at this point, humping his leg like a frisky Pomeranian) to sleep off her inebriation in the luxury of her own bedchambers.
Rejected, Snooki impishly hatched a plan to secure a little suttin'-suttin' for her best pal, Deena. In a voiceover, Snooki professed that, although she knew Deena liked Mike, she thought that her friend was far too coy and ladylike to ever make a first move (apparently showing The Scenario her nah-nah and begging him to roger her are examples of Deena's coquettishness?). Snooki therefore lured Mike and Deena to the Smoosh Room under the false pretense of a threesome. Once there, our crafty cupid quickly cut the lights and, under a cloak of darkness, quietly slipped away from the room. When The Scenario realized that he'd been given the slip, he pulled the aptly named "kitchen switchin" manoeuvre, trading an over-zealous Deena for the comforts of a fully-stocked refrigerator.
Meanwhile, Snooki made another valiant attempt to mount that ever-illusive thoroughbred, Sea Biscuit — and actually made great strides, until one whiff of Snooki's beer-slop breath sent Sea Biscuit retreating back into the stables. Later, Bowwoww tried to comfort Snooki, telling her that Vinny's performance problems were the result of his deep, complicated feelings for her. "Well stop caring and f**k me," she wisely responded.
The next day, Sammi's reign of sweatpants sadness spiraled to a new, humiliating low. Gripped with paranoia, and swaddled in the layers of poorly manufactured fleece blankets that always seem to surround her, Sweatpants accused Ron of once again cheating. Except, because she's awful, and incapable of any form of direct communication, Sammi's demeaning accusations played out mostly like this: "Rawn, I know yaw doin' suttin, so tell me wha' it is." "I have no idea what yaw talkin' about, Sam — you tell me." "No, you tell me." And round and round they went, in an endless circle of demoralizing banality, until something in Sammi's head snapped. As if she had somehow read the minds of the millions and millions of people who, week after week, watch her insipid awfulness, screaming "Dump your horror-show boyfriend and apologize to your friends already, you monumental waste of space!" at their television sets, Sammi finally decided to beg forgiveness from Snooki and Deena; and, graciously, they accepted. Bowwoww, who would have responded to such an apology with a unrepentant headbutt, was noticeably left off of Sweatpant's "make amends" list — which assuredly guarantees at least some amount of drama and violence in the episodes to come.
That night's outing to Karma was nothing if not epic. It took approximately 13.62 seconds for a drunk and very disorderly Deena to get bounced from the club, and almost that long for an increasingly randy Bowwoww to reunite with, grind with, and then break up with, an old flame named Snake, or Dagger, or something like that. Dejected, Bowser and Snooks retreated to Karma's closed-off second floor. Alone, the two friends danced and fist-pumped until their much-abused hearts were content; and by "until their hearts were content," we obviously mean "until Bowwoww went behind the closed bar, pissed on the floor like a feral dog, then sprayed down the foul mess with a Wunder-Bar soda dispenser." Meanwhile, Pauly had a drink thrown in his face, The Scenario hooked up with a former conquest, and — shocker! — Ron and Sam tested our patience with yet another dull make-up session. It truly was a night to remember.
The next morning, faced with a hangover as large as she is small, Snooki embraced her work shift like any seasoned alcoholic would: by stealing beer from her boss's mini-fridge, and downing Long Island iced teas during her allotted coffee breaks. Somehow Snooki muscled her way through the grueling work day and, by mid-afternoon, was firmly planted in one of Seaside Heights' fine drinking establishments, lapping shots of Patron out of the mouths of sex-crazed Baby Boomers.
After intoxicating herself almost to the point of paralysis, Snooki scrambled onto the beach, with a worried Deena and Bowwoww in tow. Because our society recognizes and praises the wretched lives of people like Snooki (instead of, say, middle school history teachers, or under-paid social workers), it took no time at all for a crowd of several hundred fans to watch as Snooki repeatedly collapsed onto the scorching sand, her already browned skin blistering under the midday sun. The police were inevitably summoned, and it took the hard work of three strapping officers to remove the over-seasoned guidette from the beach, kicking and screaming. Had she not belligerently told the kindly officers to "get the f**k off" of her, Snooki most likely would have avoided incarceration; unfortunately, Snooki couldn't refrain from swearing like a sailor, and was promptly read her rights.
And as the arresting officers lowered Snooki's enormous bouffant into the back of their police cruiser, Bowwoww and Deena were left alone, devastated, and with the monumental task of trying to pronounce "drunk and disorderly." And just as Snooki had failed at a life of respectable sobriety, so, too, did they fail.