Admit it, you’ve been counting down the days until the return of The Situation, Snooki, and the gang. With the second season of the Jersey Shore premiering tonight, we can expect the same tanned, gelled, and drunk Guidos we know and love to entertain us with their outrageous antics. But instead of running wild on the Jersey shore boardwalk, they’ll be running wild on the beaches of Miami. They might trade in the rum and cokes for mojitos and switch the Marlboro Lights for hand-rolled Cuban stogies, but we can bet the second season will be hotter all the way around.
New Jersey is proud of its large Italian-American population, but does South Beach know how to handle Guidos and Guidettes? They might need to brush up on what it means to be a real Guido. Hey Miami, here’s what you’re in for:
A Little Dance Called “The Fist Pump”
In Miami, you’re likely to see people dance the salsa or merengue. But if the Guidos are in town, get ready to be introduced to “The Fist Pump.” Guidos claim to have invented this barbaric form of dance and they will kick ass to prove it. On any given night you’ll see these juiceheads pumping their fists in the air like they’re trying to punch a hole in the roof. They don’t realize that they look like a bunch of cavemen. If you’re trying to enjoy your mango martini at the bar and you see some tanned schmuck fist-pumping his way to a cardiac arrest, just let him go about his business.
Even More Ed Hardy Shirts
Miami has their fair share of Hardy lovers but prepare to see even more loud colors, ridiculous designs. Guidos think there is no better way to show that they’re a top peacock than to wear a skin-tight T-shirt with sparkling gold skulls and rainbow lettering. They balance their glowing skull-laden tee with a pair of prefaded and pretorn dark blue jeans, which features a dragon running from the back pockets all the way down to the ankles—but they don’t stop there. Their banana yellow hat features the words “love,” “believe,” and “kill,” and thirty-two snakes, seventeen tiger faces, and eight hearts can be counted on their sick gear. Keep your eyes peeled for other members of their “crew.” You’ll find them in the exact same outfit…in different colors, of course.
Drunk Guidos in Church
Even though they might stay up Saturday night committing every sin in the book, the next morning you will see the same Guidos and Guidettes at Sunday mass—like the good Catholics they are. They’ll be desperately chugging Gatorade but, the amazing thing is, as rough as they look at the moment, with their clothes in shambles and the booze seeping through their pores, the blowout or Snooki-inspired bump they spent a half an hour creating in the mirror last night is still in immaculate condition. Miraculously, they’ll make it through mass without blowing chunks and even manage to receive communion without falling over. However, you might notice something’s up when Father O’Flanagan says, “The Body of Christ” and they opened their mouth and said “Jägerbomb.”
Dogs Named After Italian Delicacies
Yes you will see guidos and guidettes on South Beach roasting like pieces of proscuitto and they will be carrying their ultimate accessory—a very tiny dog. They love their pooches more than anything in the world—except maybe a sausage and pepper sangweech. Ask them what their little fur ball’s name is and you’ll hear an array of Italian delicacies like, “Meatball,” “Cannoli,” or “Pannetone.” If they have a larger, butch dog, it will be “Rigatoni” or “Manicotti.” Only certain Italian foods will work. Calling a dog “Broccoli Rabe” or “Veal Parmesan” just isn’t going to fly.
Nothing can fully prepare Miami for what’s in store once the crazy crew tears up South Beach. Surely, there will be debates on which location was better, but while Miami might have the Latin heat, hot models, and sophistication that the Jersey Shore dreams of, nothing can compare to boardwalk fights, drunken hot tub hookups, and unwavering Italian pride of the shore.
For more information, check out Fuhgeddaboudit! From Fist-Pumping to the Family Restaurant–101 Ways to Tell You’re a Real Guido.
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