Dear Shore…

I once had a girlfriend, who, when I changed our weekend plans or had to work late, would decry aloud to the universe in general, “how can one man be so endlessly disappointing?” Overrated movies — yes, I just called Closer overrated, but only because it is — aside, eventually she was tragically struck by a city bus and died could endure no more such disappointments and left my janky ass. Likewise, I have reached a similar breaking point with “Jersey Shore,” (alternate title: “Well…Fuck”) in that, despite my best efforts at being patient, I don’t know if I can withstand any more disappointment in this relationship. That’s how bad the finale was. The finale was so bad, in fact, that I will do something I rarely do in this space and recap the entire episode…in the style of Brian Griffin as a seeing-eye dog (it was shockingly difficult to find a clip for that scene…so difficult, in fact, that I didn’t succeed):

They’re on the porch. Ronald and Sammitch are arguing. Sammitch and Situation are arguing. Nothing’s happening, nothing’s happening…something about making out…there’s a commercial. Now some of them are at work…something about T-shirts, I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. Nothing’s happening…Vinny and D Rex are arguing…there’s a commercial. Ronald and Sammitch are arguing again, I think about something else. They’re back home now, D Rex yells at Viper, there’s a commercial. Something about Pauly wanting to bang a dude…now it’s morning. Situation apologizes to Sammitch…nothing’s happening…nothing’s happening…CABSAREHERE, commercial. D Rex falls down, Snooki’s banging a dude, Ron’s being a biggity bitch…nothing’s happening…Ron and Sam are fighting…D Rex falls down. Nothing’s happening, Ron and Sam are arguing, commercial. Ron and Sam are still fighting, something about a tree, it’s morning again. A dog poops on the floor, Ron and Sam have their first civil conversation in history…everybody’s leaving. It’s over. Everyone in my living room looks pissed.

WHAT. THE. FUCK? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? By my unofficial tally, that leaves us these scant offerings: 4 Ron/Sam collisions, 2 D Rex faceplants, and 1 “CABSAREHERE,” and some dog poop. Not gonna cut it, Shore. All that possibility for drama, and you deliver nothing other than the same old bullshit between the crash test dummies? Situation feuds with Sammitch…and then apologizes? D Rex cock blocks Vinny…and then makes him a sandwich? Not even Roidhead Ron could muster a punched wall or some strewn belongings.The whole thing was more disappointing than seeing the “N” for nudity rating at the beginning of an episode of “The Sopranos,” then having it turn out to be James Gandolfini’s side boob. Ugh.

Well, I’m sorry, Shore, but this just isn’t working for me. I tried to make it work with you; I really did. For two seasons, I watched every week without fail, no matter what. Once I even watched on a flight to L.A. That’s right, I was exhausted, bummed out due to a flight delay, and in public; and yet, I still remained true to you. I stuck with you through Angelina’s awfulness, JWoww’s cosmetic surgeries, and Situation’s Eternal Grenade Parade (yes, I just gave that term proper noun status). I loved you, Shore. We could have been together forever, but now…the spark is gone. Even D Rex’s lustre has worn off. It’s time for us to take a break. Let’s give each other some space, take some time to focus on ourselves, and see how we feel in Italy. I’m not saying we can’t give this another shot, but it’s going to take some work.

Hey, hey…don’t be like that. Remember all the good times we had — Snooki’s arrest, Sam snuffing Ron in the face, and every single triumphant “CABSAREHERE!” This may be the end of us, but it can also be a new beginning for you. Maybe you’ll finally have time to get your motorcycle license or take that cooking class you’ve been talking about. See? It’s not all bad. Dry your eyes. (Incidentally, that is the single best/worst breakup song ever. I do not recommend listening to it if you’ve recently ended a relationship, however, and neither Tiles in a Mosaic nor nosleeptil can be held responsible for any consequences of said aural intake. Listen at your own risk.)

I’ll see you in Italy, Shore. Maybe there things will be different, but in the mean time, remember: it’s not me, it’s you.


1 Comment

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One response to “Dear Shore…

  1. He tastes like you but sweeter!

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