Jersey Shore Watch: GIRLFIGHT!

Previously on The Jersey Shore: Ronnie hooked up with 537 different women at a club, and denied everything to Sammi. JWoww and Snooki wrote an "anonymous" letter to Sammi explaining the situation, which is anonymous in the same way that tomatoes are fruits. All hell broke loose, and Sammi and Ronnie broke up for the ninth time this season.

This week: We open with Snooki and JWoww doing shots, wearing large sombreros. Or maybe their normal size, given Snooki's lawn-gnominess. Snooki also inexplicably drinks a cigarette. Then, she wants to snuggle. So, she hunts down Vinny and mounts him like a...oh, forget the metaphor. They snog under night vision and it's gross...ridiculous. Grossdiculous. Vinny talking-heads that no one has any idea. Hey, it's CLEVER EDITOR, out to prove you wrong, V! Cut to Snooki telling JWoww in her loudest voice that his penis is watermelon sized (dude, get that looked at) and it was "like sticking [said watermelon] in a pinhole." I'd say I don't believe you re: the pinhole size comparison, but I was too busy vomiting, Linda Blair-style, all over my apartment. Let's move on. The girls are sunbathing on the beach, or, as I like to call it, "orangeifying." Much more discussion over the letter. Yawn. Sammi and the Situation have a brief conversation about Ronnie, and what an awful human being he is. The Situation goes all moral-center and tells her she deserves a better guy. He's right, but it's still sort of like Mel Gibson giving you tips on how to throw a bar mitzvah, you know?

The three witches conspire. Angelina tries to back out, and is all "I didn't write the letter!" Snooki and JWoww tell her she's a part of this anyway. There's a lot of shrugging and sighing. I worry they're in a low-oxygen zone. It'd be a shame if these poor girls suffocated. Or, maybe not. JWoww breaks off and picks a fight with Sammi and is all "IT WASN'T ME!" Then we get another yellfest (hey! First one tonight and we're almost halfway in!). The entire house comes at the siren call of JWoww's dulcet water-buffalo screams. Sammi demands to know who did it, and it's pretty much EXACTLY the last scene of an Agatha Christie story. Sammi points some fingers. Ronnie is all "uh, it's JWoww." Then everyone scatters to the four winds from whence they came.

Ronnie lumbers over to Sammi's room. Sammi tells her gorilla she wants to be alone. Her gorilla lumbers off, drooping his hindquarters in abject sadness. Sammi approaches JWoww and Snooki, and tells the girls of her feelings of betrayal. Snooki makes her sad face, which sort of looks like when someone has a happyface tattoo on their stomach and then gains a lot of weight. Snooki and Ronnie finally have a quiet chat. Sammi says she feels like an idiot (you are what you feel, girlfriend) and Ronnie talking-heads that if he gives her space, "time will bring them together." Yes, Ronnie. Time. And also, you figuring out a way to not hump a new woman every thirty-six seconds. But mostly, time. Meanwhile, Vinny's got some eye-pain. That's what happens when you put your eye in places it doesn't belong, Vinny. You got Snooki'ed, my friend. He thinks it's Pink Eye. I like my theory better. The boys go to the doctor and flirt with a cute young female doctor. I think this may be the first thirty seconds of an adult film we fortunately aren't allowed to finish.

CLUB TIME. Angelina wrangles a gentleman named Jose, and The Situation apparently finds a girl with his mental prowess and coerces her into coming home with him. He tells us she's smart. Uh, she went home with you, Sitch. I'm passing judgment. Angelina decides to not smush with Jose tonight, which is like that time Fat Albert looked at that donut and said, "Nah, I'm good." The Situation...situates his lady-friend and sends her home. He does a victory dance. Or maybe his gonaherpasyphilis is acting up. Unsure.

The girls decide to cook. Snooki calls a friend and asks for the recipe for Penne a la Vodka. It's easy, Snook: 1 box penne, 1 can tomato sauce, and then breathe on it six times. Boom. Penne a la Vodka. She doesn't listen to me, so we're treated to a scene of the girls shopping. They lose the shopping list in the store, but CLEVER EDITOR spots it on a shelf. He doesn't tell them, though, because Clever Editor? Kind of a d-bag. So, the girls are lost. They return home to cook. It's a lot like Intervention meets Rachel Ray. They set the counter on fire. I cry quietly into a pillow.

JWoww expresses fitful, passive-aggressive fury that Sammi only contributed a paltry salad to their sumptuous meal. God, in a fit of outrage, assaults the house with a monsoon. Everyone shrugs and looks out the window. Sammi goes all Nancy Drew and attempts to pry Angelina open (...figuratively...) and asks her a bunch of questions about the note. Angelina infers what she knows, and Sammi has enough proof to go after the prime suspects. If this was an episode of Law & Order, they'd all be dead by now.

The boys chat. We're reminded that Vinny hooked up with The Situation's sister, which I suppose is one way to get as close to his actual, unrealized desires as possible (think about it). We watch someone shave the back his neck. He purrs like a walrus, as is customary. Everyone gets dressed up and we're back the club. Vinny vibes with his young friend Melissa, and surmises that they'll probably sleep together because she doesn't have anywhere to go in Miami. Hi Melissa! Welcome to the Hotel Crabtacular!

The Situation drinks himself sick (Hm. Must be Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or...). Everyone goes home, and Pauly is so drunk that Vinny bets he'd probably make out with him (those desires, again, Vinny...). Then, a rare miracle happens. Try to keep track: Angelina gossips to Sammi about JWoww talking about Pauly and Vinny hears it and goes to JWoww and she turns into Dolph Lundgren and gets into a speech-slurring hurricane of a fight with Angelina. Sammi jumps in and is all "you wrote the letter!" Then, JWoww gives Sammi a hair-pully-face-punch SHOVE-THING and IT'S ON! Primal screams abound and the ladies gird their loins for war...and it's over for this week. Whew. I think I'm drunk by osmosis.

Next week's haiku:
Much talking about
The letter and Oh who cares
These people are sick.

After that, I'm going to go find myself a copy of Beaches and have a good cry, friends. I suggest you do the same. Ciao!