Jersey Shore Fresh-to-Death Report Card: 'Dirty Pad'

Last night's episode of Jersey Shore was called "Dirty Pad." I wouldn't make up that gruesome a title. Really. So before we crawl under a smush-couch cushion and curse the evil archangel who made Angelina the person she is, it's time for our weekly exercise in guido evaluation, the Fresh-to-Death report card. Marks are posted after the jump, undergrads!

A+ in Zoology and Angelina Classification for The Situation: Professor Sitch floored the faculty when he declared Angelina a member of the family rodentia, somewhere between a kangaroo rat and a guinea pig, or more specifically, "a dirty little hamster." Jane Goodall and Doctor Doolittle weep at this mastery. Angelina continues to turn somersaults in woodchips.

A in Stain Biology for Ronnie: When Ronnie found an old bouquet of flowers on the smush bed, he said it probably had "my children, Mike's children, and Snooki juice" on them. Most botanists dislike flora that drips with Guido genetics. Ew. Luckily, Ronnie gave the bouquet to Sammi, and it's funny to watch her humorless hands hold spermy longstems. Sometimes Ronnie and I see eye to eye on Sammi. Go to the head of the class, you hyperventilating smush bandit!

A- in Becoming the New Ethel Merman for DJ Pauly D: When the gents started singing about "t-shirt time" -- the occasion preceding a club outing when they don sparkly tees and feel valorous about it -- Pauly D's warble rose to showstopping heights. "Ev'rybody knows it's teeeee-shirt timeeeeeee!" he trilled. Would I cast him in a revival of Gypsy and kick Patti LuPone's ass to summer stock in the burbs? Of course. For a five-week engagement at least.

B+ in Grenade Launch Survival for Snooki: Schnookers had a tough night at Cirque du Fuggo, or whatever that club's name is, fending off grenades of all shapes, sizes, and one color (topaz). But she seemed undaunted by the parade of wonky smiles, crinkled cheeks, and IMAX foreheads. That's as much as we can expect from a troubadour of love like Snooki, even if she's schnookin' for affection in all the wrong places.

B in Poetic Comparisons and Angelina Classification for Vinny: Guido Gaudagnino took one glance at ghastly muse Angelina, who took home a gorilla she met at the beach in the middle of the day, and called her "a matinee," or, if you like, a daytime ho. Cleverness will earn Vinny a passing grade, but in terms of cineplex comparisons, Angelina is really more of a skanky drive-in theater cluttered with the litter, fluids, and Icee residue of young and old alike. Still, a B.

B- in "Situation" Brand Placement for The Situation: After he discovered hamster sorceress Angelina's dirty pad on the floor of the bathroom, The Situation unleashed the following call to the Guidette community, "Listen girls, I know sh*t happens. I know there's a situation every month." You know, "situation" is to The Situation what "moment" is to Rachel Zoe. It's a term that can mean anything. It's an evergreen. It's meaninglessly meaningful. He can never fail! B- to the Koopa Troopa guido.

C+ in Snooki Toting for DJ Pauly D: Snooki didn't wake up for her manicure appointment with JWOWW, so Pauly picked her up from bed and dumped her on a beanbag in the living room. And that's it. He didn't hide her in a kitchen cabinet, sweep her under a rug, or roll her in breading and spices. I'm underwhelmed. Try mixing up my disappointment on the ones and twos, Pauly. You can't. You have to just live with it.

C in Poetic Comparisons for Ronnie: Ronnie's turn at articulating Angelina's grenade-itude turned up less-than-honor-roll results. "She's definitely playing Jose. Like a piano." Like a piano, that cliche is definitely played. I award a C for cogency alone, which Ronnie has a passing relationship with. Get out of my classroom and become some other teacher's problem.

C- in Payback Execution for The Situation: I shrieked like a B-movie arachnid when Angelina's used pad turned up on the floor of the smush room. But when Mike picked up the soiled thing and stuffed it under her pillow? I only cackled harder -- in pain. Disposal of Angelina residue requires, at the very least, a hazmat suit coated in kevlar and adamantium. The Situation subjected himself to major Silkwood downfall here, and we're lucky he's still around to relay his tales.

D+ in Triumphant Exit Monologues for Tom: Tom discovered a naughty phone number in JWOWW's phonebook and promptly stormed out of Guido Manor, declaring, "I'm done. I wanna leave. I'm leaving. I'm done. I gotta get out of here. You f*cked up royally. I gotta go." Much of that, as you might have noticed, is redundant. Worse, you can tell he was expecting JWOWW (my #1 girl 'til the end) to clamor for his affection. Sorry, Tom. JWOWW will not be awaiting your return to the five-and-dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean. Just leave.

D in General Existence for Sammi: We'd almost lived through 30 minutes of Jersey Shore without any "romantic" stupidity between Ronnie and Sammi. Shame on us for suspecting we could tackle the whole hour. Before long, Sammi was back to cooing like an animated stuffed animal at him, claiming she was "in love." Genghis Ron grumbled back. Sammi, stop sucking. You'll never get the grades you need to make it into Bratty Aloofness 202 at this rate.

D- in Hygiene for JWOWW: JWOWW and her almost-hot-for-real-which-never-happens-on-this-show boyfriend Tom shared a tender moment in bed when they picked each other's noses for about four minutes. Here at the FTD Institute of Flair and Fistpump, we don't recommend such forms of "intimacy." Particularly when -- hey! -- it's going to be on TV. Particularly when I have to see it. Particularly when grades are at stake. But I did think JWOWW was really cute during their boogerdly exchange, so I, too, earn this D-. Along with society.

F in Smush Room Hospitality for Angelina: Yeah, it's lame that Angelina gets called a whore while the gents blithely bed all sorts of eyesores. But no one can deny that Angelina separates herself from MVP by actively leading on Jose and pretending she fancies him. Fancies! The way she led him to Smush Gardens, curled up next to him, and fell asleep -- sans smushery? I mean, that's the opposite of what Jersey Shore is about. This isn't the smush room at Camp Rock, Angelina. You actually smush genitals in this one, not cuddle parts. Never mess this up again, please.



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