Previously: Angelina's a bitch. From Staten Island. And everyone hates her. Sammi and Ronnie continue to strive for B-plot relevance.
We pick back up in the middle of last week's post-club fracas between Angelina, Pauly D and The Situation. Angelina drunkenly smacks Pauly not once, not twice, but thrice -- though, to be fair it looks more like a missed smack followed by two uncoordinated nudges. Nonetheless, Pauly is mad as Hell and he's not gonna take it any longer! So, like a Jet Blue flight attendant, he screams a few angry words and quits that bitch. Except Angelina won't let it lie. She follows Pauly and Sitch out to the blue-Astroturfed patio to keep on stirring the pot. Enough to wake up JWoww, in fact, who concludes that it takes a serious wench to anger Pauly, the nicest guy in the house.
The guys update JWoww that Angelina Schmolie puts the "smack" in smack-talking. Ms. Angelina takes it to the next level when she insists numerous times that she didn't actually smack Pauly. They start to question whether she exists in reality. And when a guy who names himself after his abs, one who has "CADILLAC" tattooed on his torso, and a girl who christens her fashion line "Filthy Couture" question your grip on reality... well then I must say, Angelina, you in danger, girl. At any rate, it all comes down to jealousy, because Angelina doesn't like Pauly hooking up with some random girl at da club that she considers her best friend because they met, like, five minutes before. Pauly says it's none of her business, and Sitch chimes in on an interview that she's a crazypants ingrate who didn't even chip in on the night's bill. Oooooh, burn! What's really rich, though, is that she tries to re-appropriate the power in the argument by calling them instigators. Now that's some Danielle Staub shit up in there. Pure brass. The guys dismiss Angelina and her blackout-induced antics. As they walk inside, Angelina tries to curry favor with JWoww, who quickly reminds her that she actually likes Pauly and Sitch and is happy to do the bitch-punching for them.
The next morning, Vinny, Ronnie and JWoww report to their first day at the gelato shop, run by Enzo, the most Italian man ever. Seriously, all I heard was, "Calamari! Fagiol'! Oregano! Straciatella! Basta così!" And JWoww hears nothing at all, because she's too concerned about the too-tight T-shirt suffocating her overinflated knockers. The nonsense continues on for a while, yadda, yadda, yadda... I will probably miss Enzo and his funny Old World ways, but I really hope that this is the last we see of the gelato shop. And for the same reason we didn't see much of the T-shirt shop last year: These people are not meant to work. It betrays their very essence.