Speaking of! Paffrath welcomes perhaps the greatest non-entity of this season to the couch: SamRo 2.0. Don't get me wrong. For many, many reasons, I would rather see these two not factor into the equation than have to deal with their epistolary entanglements and the fights that made me wonder if I should call the cops. That's too much responsibility for a recapper. We are frivolous people. Frivolous! Also frivolous: A package led off by the revelation that Sammi can decorate cakes and cook omelets. Riveting stuff, you guys. Long story short, Sammi is happy for maybe the first time in three years, and good for her. I'll just ignore the joke Pauly made about Ronnie "rearranging the furniture" -- a.k.a. throwing shit around like a damn maniac -- and deeming it "all in good fun." There was nothing fun about their psychologically, and nearly physically, abusive relationship of past seasons.
In what I suspect will be the only bit of actual news to emerge from this time-suck of a reunion, we learn that Sammi and Ronnie are no longer together. They both claim to have ended it, but it's not a fight and therefore useless to everyone concerned -- even as Pauly and Vinny say, "Ohhhhhhhhh," in the background like junior high schoolers relishing their first brush with social dynamics. Sammi insists they are just friends now, but you know they'll get back together next season out of sheer boredom and sexual frustration. There's hope (or horror) for a Ronantha spawn yet!
And in case you thought the packages couldn't get any worse than "The One in Which Sammi Cooks(ish)," the next montage is all about urination and, by extension, Snooki's UTI, plus her anger that Jionni chose wasted-faced vomiting over banging her. Because nothing is sexier than a man retching while he humps you. According to Snooki, the cure to a hangover is an orgasm. So that's what I've been doing wrong! You thought that package was done, didn't you? Nope! We also need to hear about how Ronnie is "The Shitmaster." Annnnnnnd... scene. Then there's a segment in which Deena defends her hand-washing habits. She does wash them! (When she's sober.)
In what I can only hope is the final package of the night, we have: Lola the Bunny! And there she was, folks, in all her guido-humping, crotch-grabbing glory. Vinny sums it up best: "Another day at the Shore." And what better way to go out than that crystal-clear encapsulation of how warped this whole process makes anyone who comes into contact with it? I wasn't the first, and I won't be the last. You see, my fair readers, the Shore will go on (take that, alcohol-intolerant fetus!), but I will not. After 4.5 years of snarking the bejesus out of all of you, this was my last recap for TWoP -- at least until my video poker addiction gets really bad. To quote every unimaginative high school (super)senior ever, "What a long, strange trip it's been."