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Previously:We watched Snooki pee up and down Seaside, on so many, many things. She said she had a UTI...I choose to believe that this is how her species expresses anxiety. Oh well.
This Week: Mike calls his "boy" the Unit to tell the whole story of Snooki's cheating, but the Unit is in Miami, and there's something about Deena's sister sleeping with Mike's brother, and it's really gross. Mike is pretty much Joan Rivers at this point. I keep expecting his lips to fall off. Which would be interesting, y'know, and save us a lot of trouble. So then he hangs up and the duck phone begins weeping in shame. I would, too.
We watch everyone groom, and Deena threatens to poop in the shower. I'm telling you, she and Snooki are like a pair of untrained, non-housebroken puggles I used to know. Well, almost. When one of them develops a seizure disorder, someone call me. I miss those dogs, and if I could watch them every week here, it would make me hate this show, and myself, a lot less. The gang goes out to a club called "Aztec," which Vinny informs us is full of sweat and BO. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he mmm ssss mmm sss mmm sss's hiis way through the dance floor. Oh, and JWOWW is all "where's Roger?" and I've forgotten who Roger is, but her Adam's Apple quivers with misunderstanding as she flexes her biceps and twirls her chest hair in simmering rage.
Vinny wrangles two girls, while Deena keeps a third girl at bay. I don't understand. Do these women...WANT herpes? Is this like that pregnancy pact special I saw on Lifetime? This is like a slightly-orange version of that movie Contagion. Oh, and one of Vinny's attempted conquests is a lesbian. Well, if you squint, he sort of looks like Portia De Rossi. I can see it. Deena refers to her as "The Lesbioness," which I would very much like to be someone's superhero name. Like, if Rosie O'Donnell got bitten by a radioactive lion, that's what we'd call her.
Anyway, Vinny does not bed his sapphic target, and Deena's "backburnered" girl becomes his lay o' the day. I am ashamed of myself and of all of these people. JWOWW calls Roger and it's super passive-aggressive. Oh, then there's Snooki, who wakes up after a day of drunken slumber. She's all "I need AA," as a joke. NO. IT IS NOT A JOKE. YOU NEED TO BE TAKEN AWAY AND DRIED OUT AND YOU NEED TO STOP DRINKING. IT IS NOT CUTE. PEOPLE DIE DOING THIS, YOU LEATHERY LITTLE HOCKEY PUCK. JWOWW and Roger fight again, something about going or not going to the beach, and she yells at him, her voice a manly erection of righteous rage.
There's a lot of boring stuff at the t-shirt shop. Let's skip that. There's a scene where the meatballs dance in a hallway wearing fuzzy boots and it goes on for like 11 minutes. When I was very young, I was on the "It's a Small World" ride at Disney World, and it broke, and we were stuck on it with the same eight notes playing over and over again for like five minutes. This is exactly what that feels like.
Later on, everyone has chinese food, and Mike brings up that his brother has banged her sister, and there's a whole "you're my sister-in-law" thing that goes on and on, and I am pretty sure that is not how marriage works for you heterosexuals. He pulls the Unit (I just wrote that...) into the conversation, and I lose interest. Oh, then the boys run into Roger at the gym, and somehow Vinny makes it all ok between JWOWW and Roger. I don't understand. I don't care. This is proof, America--if two men like JWOWW and Roger can fight just like anyone else, gay marriage should be legal. Love knows no gender...but here, it definitely knows some skankitude. Then they break up again via duck-phone.
Annnnnd we're done. See you back here next week, when we get back to wondering why we do this to ourselves. Ciao!