As if on cue, Emilio calls to apologize for being a drunken prick earlier. Not working for his case is the fact that he doesn't even recognize Snooki's voice when she answers the phone. With that rocky start, he barrels right into the meat of the matter (pun intended): He banged another bitch that night. Snooki switches from denial to anger in a split-second, telling him to eff off. It sounds like he tries to tell her he's just kidding as she hangs up, but it's hard to tell through the stream of expletives and Snooki roaring that crowds my ears. This is the sound of a gorilla juicehead losing its mate. Seriously, that was some Nell shit up in there.
Emilio calls back a second later. JWOWW answers and threatens to fly up to Poughkeepsie to beat his ass. He asks if he's on the voicemail system. Which, albeit a stupid question because how is a voicemail greeting going to answer your question? And yet I wouldn't be surprised if that were the house's outgoing greeting. JWOWW hangs up, so persistent Emilio rings again. This time, she pretends to be a voicemail box, which confuses Emilio, who screams "Hellllloooo?" into the phone for about a minute. After she finishes laughing, The WOWW tells Emilio that there are dozens of sexy guidos outside the girls' door at that very minute and that Snooki doesn't need to waste any time on "a drunk skank with no job." Click. The girls revel in their feminist frenzy as they laugh and cuddle pajama party-style, hit up the confessional to scream "Fuck guys!!!" in a chorus, and, for the thrilling climax, throw plates on the ground. For no good reason at all. We get more confessional ramblings from Snooki, who says she's done crying and ready to chop off some balls. There was probably more, but I couldn't register it because a headless JWOWW walks into the frame, hands on hips and titties a-poppin'. Man those things are like pink spandex-wrapped bowling balls. They head to bed, exhausted from the thrill of hating men, and cattily laugh that it's Angelina's job to pick up all the dishes they broke. And your 15 minutes of feminism ends now.
Elsewhere, the guys return home to a yard full of broken plates. Snooki briefs them on her "worst night ever." While Angelina takes it upon herself to be Snooki's pepper upper, Ronnie makes a beeline for his own bedroom. Sammi immediately starts bitching about how he couldn't be bothered to say goodnight after hitting up the club without her until six in the morning. She takes her traveling rage show to his bedroom to passive-aggressively prod him in hopes of an argument. He doesn't respond, so she says she was testing him and that he failed. He couldn't care less. She asks why he's even with her. All she gets is a surly non-response, so she tells him she's over it and not to talk to her again for the rest of the time they're in Miami.