Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: On How Absence Truly Does Make the Heart Grow Fonder
April 23, 2010

I didn’t wake up this morning expecting to miss any of the cast members of Jersey Shore the way Snooki misses pickles during a cucumber blight, but then I saw this picture of Snooki and JWOWW film the second season of Jersey Shore down in Miami, and that’s when I was reminded of the guidette-shaped hole in my heart:

I mean, you’ve got Snooki drinking a giant frozen margarita with not one but TWO upturned Coronas in it, which is enough booze to give me a bitch of a hangover just looking at it.  Seriously, I feel like one of those could put me damn close to being under the table, two could fell a baby rhinoceros, and three will have Snooki doing backflips all over South Beach.  Added to that, you’ve got JWOWW doing something that requires looking down at her plate while a cigarette dangles deftly from her lip.  Maybe this picture’s just giving me an acid flashback from all the classiness and Aquanet that goes into a single episode of Jersey Shore, but hot damn do I miss watching these two broads in action.  Personally speaking, MTV should just drop the rest of the cast and focus entirely on Jersey Shore‘s two best besties.  Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater” could be their theme song, and it’d be all about Snooki and JWOWW’s friendship and fierceness.  JWOWW could bring her killer tops and her epic fists of fury, and Snooki can bring the FACE:

I’m not quite sure what’s happening up there except that I love it, but I think this next one’s pretty obvious:

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Jersey Shore: Don’t Ask Questions. Just Enjoy the (Train Wreck) Ride
December 9, 2009

Sorry for the timeliness, y’all, but I’ve been stuck in deep contemplation over our most recent pop culture phenomenon that will surely be swept under the rug of irrelevancy as soon at something more stupefyingly trashtastic comes our way.  Naturally I’m referring Jersey Shore:

And, while as much as I love the duck phone and the multiple references to puke breath and the guidos’ cartoonish hyper-masculinity and the simple fact that Pauly D owns a tanning bed IN HIS OWN HOME BEDROOM (!?!?!), I’ve also come to the decision that it is nearly impossible to talk about this show because it’s profoundly stupid.  It’s basically a documentary that was rejected by PBS because PBS decided that it would be disingenuous to air a series that treats its subject matter like a comically exhibitionistic alien race as opposed to real people that are part of an actual cultural minority but was then saved when MTV came along and was like, “Standards, shmandards!  TAKE US TO YOUR ARTIFICIALLY TANNED LEADER!!!”  Really, attempting to apply any sort of critical thought to this show is like like begging for a brain aneurysm.

For example, I know that enjoying this show as a study in human train wrecks makes us all slightly worse people than we were before Jersey Shore was in our lives, but even acknowledging that makes my head hurt when I consider that these people are so confident in how they see themselves that they clearly could care less what the rest of us think.  It can only explain this:

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