After all my bitching about it, I never thought I’d actually be sad to see Jersey go.
And no, I didn’t cry buckets for them. Because my tear ducts are actually laced with cobra venom (long story) and it would be terribly dangerous to let that stuff slip.
But yeah, seeing these 8 alcoholic, untalented losers leave the place that made them famous was truly heart-rending.
Also, scrotum cake.
Credit to one of my friends (every time I say that and you have the same look of bewliderment. Are you that predictable? I am) for pointing this out, but Jersey is quickly becoming The Ron and Deena Show.
And I am completely okay with that.
Who would have thought that little grenade rat whose first action in season 3 was stripping in front of Mike would become the only thing about this show worth watching?