I'd rather have a doctor stick his thumb in my butt than have to watch this episode again.

For last night’s delightful mid-season, “let’s just show 15 minutes of party footage and a few gratuitous shots of JWoww’s body” episode, I decided to consult my most brilliant pop-culture dude friend to get some input from the male perspective on the whole matter (think Joel McHale, and that’s basically him). From Deenasaurus to Sam and Ron’s dysfunction, we cover it all.

With a heaping serving of haterade. Read More »

Well, it looks like the Shnookster (thanks Ron Ron) is hearing techno jams wedding bells in her future.  Yep, that’s right – a nice juicehead gentleman has proposed to the pouf-queen in Steppin’ Out Magazine. He is featured on the cover, kneeling suggestively on one knee sporting military fatigues and a guido pout.  Wow, proposing on a magazine is quite the excuse to show off your pipes and chest tattoos, Mr. Jeff Miranda…can’t you start your own clothing line like JWWOW did or something?

Anyone who’s anyone a true Jersey Shore fanatic can tell this cannot be Snooki’s ideal proposal technique.  So here it is, in tanned and totally juicehead form:

First, he gives her a coupon to bask in a tanning bed sesh (sans tax, of course) and there, in the tanning bed – is a (typed) letter. It reads, “I promise to never bury my face into a bartenders breasts. . .or have a three way make out sesh with a cluster of grenades.” Following this, Mr. Miranda takes her to B.E.D.(the club, sillies) and buys her a pouf-sized margarita and spends hours talking with her about smushing on that stone dog (or was it a horse) outside of the Miami ice cream shop.

Prior to proposal time, they visit the gym to beast (after all, Jeff has to get perfectly juiced before flexing his muscles and officially proposing shirtless). After bench pressing Snooki herself, (in rhythm to “Get Crazy” by LMFAO) he scoops her up and carries her to that store Sammi said had cool t-shirts and buys her new $300 crystalled out stunna shades made out of diamonds and a jar of pickles.

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Tonight is the season finale of the Jersey Shore.

Let’s all take a moment of silence.

In preparation for this tragic ending I am beginning to practice the coping skills I learned from my therapist to use when dealing with a break-up.  Because this is a break-up. A really painful one.

You see my relationship with The Jersey Shore began like any other meaningful relationship.  I saw a preview and was interested.  I didn’t know exactly what it would offer me, but it seemed attractive enough for me to find out.  I committed to the first episode and was anxious to see how things would go, just like any first date.  By the end…I was hooked.

I am the first to admit my own psychosis…I became a stage five clinger.  I stalked The Jersey Shore by watching YouTube clips, looking for trailers, anything I could.  Our relationship blossomed as I became more and more intrigued with each character and I felt as if I actually lived in the house and could call the Duck Phone my own.  I found myself referring to the characters and constantly contributing my input to their lives.  “Did you SEE that girl The Situation brought home? Even he could do better than that!”

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Beefy.

MTV is really getting their ass handed to them after the controversial premiere of the new reality series “Jersey Shore.” Not only has Dominos pulled out as an advertiser for the show, but MTV has also apparently received death threats from unhappy viewers.

Seriously?

Italian-Americans have their leopard panties in a twist because this show is giving their heritage a bad name. But since when do eight guidos represent an entire culture? Their hair gelling, giant poofing, fake boobing ways may be an embarrassment to themselves and their families, but has that ever stopped the rest of us from rubbernecking a train wreck such as this? I mean, isn’t that was every MTV show is about? Read More »